Devin sniffed the air to take in her scent. Aromas didn’t come to him naturally anymore. He had to work at achieving their knowledge. But this time he didn’t mind having taken the time. She smelled like woman, Wolf, and cherries—a heady combination to say the least.
“I’m Lena Knox.” She pointed at his house. “You live there.”
Lena didn’t phrase her statement as a question, and he suspected that had been purposeful. She was a Werewolf. She would have been able to scent him in his parents’ house from all the way across the street.
Lena. He searched his memory. No, he hadn’t known Lena. He’d known some of the girls but she hadn’t been one of them. Probably too young to remember him….
“I know you speak because you said you wanted to talk about the swing.” She smiled again.
He had to say something. “I’m Devin Owen. I guess I do live across the street.”
For ten years he’d lived wherever the war sent him, and then for five years he’d lived in a Dragon prison. Now? Yes, he supposed he lived in his parent’s house. As pathetic as that was at forty years old.
“You guess? Are you not sure where you live?” Her tone was teasing. He tried to remember how he was supposed to act when someone did that.
“Um.” He scratched his head. “No, I’m sure I live there.”
Her face fell. “Are you okay?”
“What? Oh, yes, I’m fine.” He took a step back from her. Between the beard, the leg, and his general lack of social skills, she must be wondering if he was deranged. “Sorry to bother you. It’s just that your swing…it squeaks.” He took another step back. This had been a bad idea. Why had he come over here? Two more steps away. “So does your door.”
“Yes, everything squeaks, and I have no idea what to do about it.” She turned her head slightly to give the house a forlorn look. “Did it wake you? I know you were sleeping over there on your porch.”
She did? How did she know? Oh, right. Her senses still worked, unlike his own. Two more steps away. Damn, if he wasn’t running away from a woman who was too young to have to have known him before he’d gone away to war.
“Sorry to bother you,” he called over his shoulder as he rushed as fast as his leg would let him back into his parents’ house.
Getting inside, he closed the door behind him. He. Had. Just. Run. From. A. Female. They should have just left him in prison to rot.
***
Lena sighed as she walked quietly back into the house. The squeaking swing had worked. It had annoyed him to death, as it should have, since it made her crazy. She couldn’t believe ten minutes had gone by before he’d woken up. Another minute and she would have stopped before it frayed her nerves.
Her mate. Devin Owen. She’d managed to get his attention, which was the only reason she’d squeaked the swing for so long and worn the stupid outfit. He’d taken one look at her and run away. She pushed out the old battered kitchen chair and sat down. It wobbled. Nearly everything in the house was almost broken. Her father was too sick to mend anything and the money was all gone.
But she’d been so relieved her mate had come home. Even if he had no idea they were, in fact, mated. At seven years old she had known he was hers. He had, unfortunately, not known the same about her. Of course, she’d been seven and it might have been a little sick if he had known.
But now he was home, which was unbelievably wonderful. She’d worried he was dead for five years when the report had come in that his unit had gone missing. So many units disappeared, and only a few were ever heard from again. She had prayed and prayed to the gods that sustained them to bring him home. Her prayers had been answered. He seemed battered and confused, but home.
Whatever had happened, she could help him. She knew she could. As his mate, it was her duty and pleasure. They could start out by going for a run together. She would let him get used to her scent in her Wolf form. It would make him less nervous…
How had he not known immediately she belonged to him now that she wasn’t a child and not forbidden to notice?
Lena tapped her fingers on the table. Embarrassment warred with determination. He was over there—right across the street—and she needed him to be over here. It wasn’t proper for her to go to his house, at least for longer than a brief visit with family present, and she doubted she could draw him back over with a squeaky swing.
No, she was a modern Werewolf. She’d fetch him and bring him back to her house. Her parents were too unaware these days to know which end was up, but their presence would make her plan acceptable.