He said it in the cadence of a joke, as if the answer didn't matter, but with all that had come before, I thought that his tone of voice was nothing more than armor. We always tell ourselves rejection can't hurt if we can play something off as a joke, instead of something we long for. We're wrong, but we do like to pretend.

"Yeah, of course," I said, smiling to lighten my voice, pulling it away from sorrow and towards the memory of snarkily teasing him in the woods. "Your hair looks like silk, and I'd like to find out if it's as soft as it looks. Plus, I give a mean head massage."

Dain nodded, still not looking up at me, then took his hand out of mine. "Don't tell anyone," he whispered, and laid down on the bench, settling himself with his head resting in my lap. His wing-arms came up higher than his shoulders, and he moved them with hesitant care so that they hooked around my back, giving me access to his head.

I slid the fingers of both my hands into his loose hair and started to rub his scalp in long strokes. His hair did feel like silk, smooth and slippery, not even tangling on my fingers. Maybe it should have felt strange, not like hair at all, but it was Dain's hair, and it felt perfect. I'd always liked giving head rubs and playing with people's hair, but I was now going to be spoiled for the rest of eternity, because I didn't have to worry about tangles with him. I could twist my fingers through his beautiful wolf-gray hair and run the length out, and never yank on his scalp.

Dain started making small noises of pleasure, relaxing into the contact. He even stopped holding his wing-arms so that they barely brushed my back, and let them sink against me in a warm embrace, his hands resting against me. It felt... nice. Really nice. I liked feeling him relax, and I really did want him to be able to just... be comfortable, and move his body in whatever ways felt most natural.

He might really, really piss me off sometimes, but I couldn't convince myself that opposition was in the cards on my end. I wanted to give him a better life, and the chance to untwist himself—to turn himself into a better man. And Dain seemed to be rising to the challenge, working hard to lower his defenses and to be somewhat less of an aggressive asshole. I didn't know if I could do this yet; being Dain's soulmated friend meant I could never go home. It gave a whole new meaning to best friends forever, and I wanted to go home far more than I wanted to take care of him.