Page 22 of Flint's Arrow
A date would be a good start, especially one in a neutral location. Flint needed to see how Arrow would treat him in public. Would he be proud to have Flint on his arm, or would his old shame resurface when faced with other people around?
“One date to start.” Flint crossed his arms over his chest. “Tomorrow night at seven. There’s an Italian place in Big Sky - Angelo’s. I’ll meet you there.”
“I can pick you up…”
“I’ll meet you there,” Flint repeated firmly. “I’m not ready to be in a car with you yet. Our combined scents in an enclosed environment would be difficult for us both. Besides, I always prefer to take my own car anywhere. If the date goes badly, I want my own transportation home.”
Arrow deflated slightly but nodded. “Okay. Seven o’clock at Angelo’s. I’ll be there.”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
“I won’t.” Arrow stood, and Flint noticed how carefully he maintained distance between them. “Thank you. For giving me a chance. I know you didn’t have to.”
“No, I didn’t.” Flint walked to the door and opened it. “Arrow?”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever treat me like you did in that bar again - if youevermake me feel small or worthless or like I’m just a convenient body - we’re done. Mate bond or not, even though I know it will kill us both, I will walk away, and I won’t look back.”
Arrow’s eyes widened. “I understand.”
“Good.”
Arrow moved toward the door, then hesitated. “Can I...is it okay if I scent you? Just for a second? My wolf is going crazy, and it might help calm him down.”
Flint’s snake screamedyes, but Flint forced himself to shake his head. “Not yet. I don’t trust you to be that close to me.”
The hurt on Arrow’s face was like a knife to Flint’s chest, but after a long moment, Arrow nodded and stepped outside. Flint watched him walk away toward Python’s car, shoulders hunched against pain that Flint felt echoing in his own body.
When the door closed, Flint slumped against it.
“Stupid,” he whispered to his empty house. “This is so stupid.”
His snake hissed agreement, but not about giving Arrow a chance. About denying themselves their mate when he was right there, willing and desperate andtheirs.
But Flint had learned the hard way that just because something was fated didn’t mean it was right. He needed more than biology and mystical urges. He needed trust, respect, and a partner who saw him as an equal.
Tomorrow night would be the first test.Please let the sexy wolf pass. Please.And yes, it did strike Flint as ironic that he was praying to the same Fates he believed had made a mistake.I just need to sleep,he thought, stumbling to his bedroom.I just need to sleep.
Chapter Eight
Arrow woke in darkness, disoriented and starving. His phone screen read 2:47 a.m. He’d slept the whole day through and for most of the night.
His body ached from the mate pull, from three days locked in that sawmill, from the torture of being near Flint without being able to touch him. But underneath the pain, something else stirred. Hope…maybe...or the terrifying possibility of it.
One date. He gave us one date.
Arrow’s wolf whined, restless and anxious. One date wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, but it was more than they deserved after what Arrow had done.
He stumbled to the kitchen, yanked open the refrigerator, and stared at the nearly empty shelves. A takeout container from two weeks ago. A bottle of expensive wine. Some fancy cheese he’d bought to impress a date once that had since gone moldy.
Arrow grabbed the wine and drank straight from the bottle. His stomach cramped in protest - alcohol on an empty stomach after days of barely eating was a terrible idea - but he didn’t care. He rummaged through his freezer and found a frozen meal, something with chicken and vegetables that cost twenty dollars and tasted like cardboard.
While the microwave hummed, Arrow walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows that dominated his living room. The city of Helena sprawled below him, a glittering expanse of lights and steel and concrete. At night, all the mess and grime was hidden by darkness and distance, but Arrow knew it was still there.
Arrow’s fancy downtown loft had cost him a fortune. Everything in it screamed money and success, from the designer furniture to the original artwork on the walls, and the windows overlookingthe city. He’d worked his ass off to afford his place, to prove he was better than the pack he’d left behind, better than his brothers who’d never given him the time of day, better than everyone.
The microwave beeped. Arrow retrieved his sad excuse for a meal and returned to the windows, fork in hand.
