They sat drinking their beers, rocking chairs squeaking. Mac broke the silence. “A month is almost up.”
Slade squeezed the beer can tightly in his fist. “Yes.”
“You gonna tell him?”
Slade flinched. Talking about his impending departure made leaving much more real. “He knows.”
“You wouldn’t be our only human if you wanted to stay. The pack already voted in your favor.”
At least they didn’t hate all humans like Slade thought they might. He wouldn’t fault them if they did. “Mighty nice of them. I still can’t.”
“I know. The witches are our allies. Have been for years. Maybe if we manage a truce with the hunters, we can approach the sorcerers, vampires, or other supernatural beings out there.”
Slade stared out at the trees, feeling the wind on his face. Maybe he’d go far from here. Florida, maybe. “It’ll be too late for me. I’ll be long gone by then.”
“Maybe you could come back.”
“Maybe. I’m not getting my hopes up.” When he’d emptied his beer, Slade tossed his can in the trash. “I need to get home.”
For one of the last times.
Slade woke in the early hours before dawn a few days later, his stomach twisting into knots. How long had he been here? His heart plunged off a cliff. Twenty-nine days. Soon the curse would either kill him or force him back on the road. He tightened his arm around Noah, who murmured sleepily, backing up, little spoon, fitting perfectly with the big.
Perfectly. Noah fit perfectly into Slade’s arms.
And his heart. After all these years, he’d finally found someone he didn’t want to walk away from. His heart ached at the mere thought. So, this was what Vern meant—finding someone to love and having to walk away.
If he walked away, would the curse break so he could return?
No. No doubt the sonofabitch sorcerer’s curse would somehow figure out his intentions. He couldn’t stay here, not without risking his life.
You could take Noah with you,a little voice whispered into his mind. Yes. Yes, he could. But keeping his lover didn’t fulfill the necessary sacrifice to break the curse. Life on the road wouldn’t be fair to Noah, who wanted a home, a place to belong. Safety. Safety Paul gave his life to provide.
At least Noah would be safe in the wolves’ enclave, surrounded by others of his kind. Maybe one day, he’d meet a wolf, fall in love. Maybe take in a foundling of his own to raise.
The best thing for all concerned would be for Slade to leave, never looking back. Maybe break the curse so he could have a home of his own one day—or return to his family.
Realistically, though, with his father gone and his brothers scattered to the winds, except for Chuck, where was home?
Where could he go?
Anywhere he wanted, with the curse gone. Maybe he could find the quiet place in the woods he’d wanted with Noah. His mind went to Noah’s home, the stream where Slade found him. His heart gave another painful twist. He had to leave.
If he told Noah, Noah would undoubtedly offer to sacrifice security here for a life of rambling with a man who couldn’t settle down. Slade could never wish a nomad’s life on him. He also couldn’t openly reject Noah. Coward Slade may be. Still, he couldn’t lie about his feelings.
He’d told Noah about the curse. Noah likely did the math and knew their days were numbered. If he had any sense at all, Slade would get up now, throw his things in the SUV—or leave them behind—and hit the road.
The warm body in his grasp turned, all too perceptive blue-eyed gaze scrutinizing his face. In hindsight, though Slade hadn’t known about werewolves when he’d first met Noah, the otherworldlysomethingin Noah’s eyes should have tipped Slade off to there being more to his lover than met the eye.
Slade held Noah’s gaze, feeling gut-punched and stripped bare. He recognized the flaring nostrils, a slight widening of the eyes, the way Noah brought their lips together—hard—that Slade hadn’t hidden the truth well: Noah knew.
He pulled back, connecting their gazes once more. So many emotions, so much unsaid, shone in Noah’s eyes. Sadness, resignation.
Above all, understanding.
Noah eased the covers down, lithely straddling Slade. He remained silent, running gentle fingers over the tiger tattoo, bending for a kiss that threatened to break Slade’s heart. How the hell could he walk away from this man?
Sacrifice. Though he doubted the sorcerer cared for his mate anywhere close to Slade’s feelings for Noah. Slade might as well cut himself open and leave his heart behind too.