Masen’s gentle with me while we play. His bedroom still looks like a bomb went off when we’re done. I pant hard, hungry and thirsty from our rough housing. My wolf is content to have met her Mate and expel some energy. I need to eat, I send to Masen.

We are lying on his floor bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight from a window. I don’t know what it is about being in a cool house laying in the heat of the sun that’s so appealing. I do it all the time in my other form, usually, I’m on the couch. I snicker, I’ve never changed indoors before, never felt safe enough to.

Okay, Little One, let’s shower and get some food. Masen watches me change back. It’s just as uneventful as before. I watch him in turn. He stretches, then in seconds, he’s my Masen again. We both smile at my thought.

All my injuries are healed, my body feels better than it has in ages. Masen is attentive in the shower. Worshiping my body gently as he washes me before trying to wash my long hair. “It felt so good when you washed mine. I wanted to do that for you,” he pouts.

“Masen, have you ever had long hair before?” I ask, knowing the answer.

“Not really,” he huffs.

“Well, it’s a little different, that’s all. You’ll have to watch and learn,” I say sassily.

He grabs me around the waist, squeezing. “You, sassy girl, need to wash mine. That will help teach me,” he states with a nod, proud of his backward logic. I roll my eyes. I’m going to develop a tic at this rate. I finish with my hair and give Masen his lesson, before washing him.

When we get out, he again takes his time drying me. “I don’t know how you want to dry your hair, baby.” He hands me a towel after he’s wrapped me up. He dries himself proficiently and leaves the room to dress. I finish my business then follow him out to dress myself.

Both too hungry to bother making anything, I plate up cold cuts, cheese, and some fresh strawberries. The phone rings when the first morsel of cheese melts in my mouth. We both look at the offending device like it’s a loaded weapon. I’m not close enough to see who’s calling. Blowing out a breath, Masen answers. With his mouth full, he mumbles, “Yeah.” I can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but I can tell by his demeanor it’s not her. He’s quiet for a few moments listening. “Let me know if anything changes,” he says briskly and hangs up. “They didn’t return to your old house last night. No one has reported any sightings. If we haven’t found anything by Monday morning, you’ll have two options,” he raises one finger, “no school” I scoff. He arches one eyebrow challenging me but smiles beautifully then raises the second finger. “Or a bodyguard.” This time he lifts both brows repeatedly.