Page 36 of Midnight Mate
The pain in Bayne’s head started to settle, replaced by the rush of memories that might actually belong to him. They were ugly, but they were his.
Bayne refused to let go of the porch rail, but he could feel the adrenaline leeching out of his body, leaving him empty and maybe a little pissed off at himself.
A quiet fell in the yard. Far off, a lawnmower droned. Zeppelin looked like maybe he’d stay here all night if that’s what it took.
Finally, Bayne straightened and squared his shoulders. “I don’t need you here. You did your job, Zeppelin. I’m safe. You can leave now.”
Zeppelin studied him hard, as if reading every flick of pain behind Bayne’s eyes. “You’re a stubborn ass, Bayne Farina. Always have been.” He took a step back, giving Bayne space as if that might fix anything. “You may run, but you’re not lost. You’re just on pause.”
If the moment hadn’t sucked so completely, Bayne might’ve laughed. Instead, he wiped sweat from his brow and drew in the scent of his mate behind him. Lavender. Bayne’s anchor.
“Leave,” he said to Zeppelin. “I’m where I belong.”
Bayne laced his fingers with Clint’s and walked his mate inside the house, closing the door on a life he no longer wanted.
Now that he knew the truth, knew how he’d ended up in Clint’s yard, he felt something inside him settle for the first time in years.
Bayne was perfectly content right where he was. With his mate and a judgmental cat.
* * * *
Zeppelin stood motionless on the porch, teeth worrying his bottom lip. The door’s slam still echoed in his ears. He’d run through a dozen scenarios for this reunion, but Bayne’s cold dismissal hadn’t been among them.
A knot formed in his chest. He deserved it. He’d been the one who’d signed off on sending Bayne undercover, despite knowing the guy’s history with addiction. Bayne had insisted he could handle it—could wear the junkie mask without becoming one again—and Zeppelin had believed him.
His mistake. His responsibility.
Pack meant protection, but it also meant respecting choices. If Bayne had found his place with his vet, Zeppelin wouldn’t force him back into a life he’d rejected. Time might heal the rift, or it might not. Either way, the bond remained. Silent, invisible, but unbreakable. If trouble came, Zeppelin and the others would be there, whether Bayne acknowledged them or not.
That light in Bayne’s honey-colored eyes, though… Even through the anger, Zeppelin had seen it. A contentment he’d never witnessed before in Bayne.
Something real and precious.
His exhale felt like sandpaper against his lungs. He crossed to his motorcycle, swung his leg over the seat, and kicked up the stand with more force than necessary. The metallic clang split the afternoon quiet. The engine roared to life beneath him, and Zeppelin let its rumble drown his thoughts as he pointed the bike toward home.
Chapter Ten
Bayne cleared his throat. “I think we need a truce here. Things happened that I’m sure we both regret. I promise I'm not here to cause trouble. No hard feelings?”
Clint dangled the thick handling gloves between them, one eyebrow raised in silent judgment.
“It's just a damn hamster,” Bayne muttered. “I don't need armor.”
“Your funeral.” Clint tossed the gloves onto the counter. “I told you before, Mr. Whiskers is Satan incarnate. He’s already bitten you once. But if having sharp teeth sink into your flesh is your kink, by all means, take him out of his cage.”
The smug certainty in Clint’s brown eyes made Bayne’s competitive streak flare. A hamster. A goddamn hamster that weighed less than a cell phone. He’d faced down actual predators. No goddamn furball was going to intimidate him.
Yet as Bayne eased his hand into the bowels of hell, a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. His wolf, the traitor, simply lifted its head with what felt suspiciously like amusement.
The lack of faith in the room warmed the cockles of Bayne’s fucking heart.
Pinching the scruff of Mr. Whiskers’ neck, Bayne lifted him out triumphantly. “See? It’s all about technique—”
The hamster twisted like a furry contortionist, slipping from his grasp and landing on the floor with a barely audible thump.
“Shit!” Bayne watched in shock as the tiny escapee darted beneath the exam table and streaked across the floor.
“Block the door!” Clint slammed it shut, though Bayne noted the generous gap underneath. There was plenty of space for a determined hamster.
