Page 37 of Tender Wild

“Sorry, my phone died.” He kept his voice low, trying not to wake Miguel. “Told you I had car trouble.”

“That was hours ago! You could’ve been dead in a ditch somewhere! I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all night!”

Jared rubbed sleep from his eyes, checking the notifications. His stomach dropped. Twelve missed calls. Five text messages, each progressively more panicked than the last. The final message, The last one, sent at 3:47 AM, threatened to mobilize the entire coalition to track him down.

“Jesus, Mom,” he whispered. “I’m fine. Just crashed at a friend’s place.”

She really needed to learn to cut the apron strings before he strangled himself with them.

“Car and phone died at the same time, that’s all.”

“I told your father that thing needs to be replaced, not patched together with... whatever that mechanic uses. Duct tape and prayers, probably.”

She was starting to calm down now that she knew her son wasn’t taking a dirt nap in a ditch. That only made him think of the hyenas. Jared ran his fingers over his throat. His bruises weren’t going to heal by the time he went home. His mom would see them and flip out all over again.

“Where are you now? Do you need us to come get you?”

Hell no! That was the last thing he needed, his parents showing up at a wolf tavern to find their son in bed with his new mate. A mate who happened to be a wolf. A wolf with scars and a motorcycle and a history Jared was just beginning to learn.

“I’ll get a ride,” he said, glancing at Miguel’s sleeping form. “Car’s at a garage getting fixed.”

“Which garage? Your father can—”

“Mom, seriously, I’ve got it handled.”

Miguel stirred beside him, the sheets rustling as he rolled over. Without warning, a muscular arm snaked around Jared’s waist, yanking him back down to the mattress with unexpected force.

“Mph,” Miguel mumbled against his neck, his voice thick with sleep as he nuzzled closer. “Stay.”

“Ack!” The sound escaped before Jared could stop it, phone nearly tumbling from his fingers as his back collided with Miguel’s chest. His arm locked around him like a vise, heavy and immovable.

“Jared? What happened?” His mother’s voice sharpened with concern. “What was that?”

“Nothing! Just—” Heat flooded his face as he struggled against Miguel’s iron grip, but the wolf only tightened his hold, apparently determined to keep Jared pinned against him. For someone half-asleep, his mate had remarkable strength. “My friend’s cat jumped on me. Psycho little thing.”

Prying at Miguel’s forearm proved useless. The man was built like reinforced concrete and apparently slept like the dead. Jared poked at the tattooed bicep wrapped around his middle. Miguel responded by draping one heavy leg over Jared’s, effectively trapping him in a cocoon of warm limbs and rumpled sheets.

“Since when are you afraid of cats?” His mother’s suspicion radiated through the phone. “You’re a cheetah. The cat should be practically purring at your feet.”

He needed to introduce her to Psycho.

“Just caught me off guard.” He frantically jabbed his elbow backward, connecting with solid muscle that didn’t budge. Jesus.

Miguel’s lips found the sensitive spot behind his ear, stubble scraping against Jared’s skin as he murmured something that sounded suspiciously like “mine.”

“Is someone there with you?” His mother’s voice rose an octave. “Jared Anthony, if you’re in trouble—”

“The only trouble I’m in is with this stupid cat!” Jared hissed, wedging his fingers between Miguel’s arm and his ribs, trying to pry himself free. “Seriously, it needs intensive therapy.”

Miguel grunted, his breath warm against Jared’s neck as he shifted, pulling him impossibly closer.

“A cat doesn’t grunt, Jared.”

“This one does. Very vocal. Real chatterbox.” He frantically tapped Miguel’s wrist, trying to wake him fully. “Mom, I gotta go. The cat needs... neutered.”

“Jared, if you spent the night with a special friend, that was all you had to say,” she huffed. “I know a man’s grunt when I hear one.”

“Love you, bye!” Jared ended the call and tossed his phone onto the nightstand, where it clattered against the wood.

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