More Than Words

Chapter 15 - SCURRYFUNGE

SCURRYFUNGE (verb)

1. The act of hastily cleaning before a guest arrives

2. To tidy up quickly, especially when company is on their way over unexpectedly

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Cole

Nerves begin to get the better of me now that I'm standing outside Evan's bedroom door well after sunrise listening for signs of life. Last night she and Gracie were both asleep in the car by the time we arrived at Shadowmoon. I fought with myself on whether to wake them so I could feed them dinner, or let them sleep after such a long and stressful day. Ultimately I chose the latter, not having the strength to wake them from such a peaceful sleep.

So I carried them both inside and laid them in their beds. My wolf purred with contented delight having our mate in our arms, tucking her into bed so she was cocooned in sheets with my scent, and using my heat to warm her room after I felt her shiver when I finally summoned the strength to leave her room for the night.

I left all three girls to sleep; Evan, Gracie, and their puppy Luna. She was excited to see them but Arrow had taken her out for a run through the woods so she was ready for bed, too, when we arrived.

I admit, I was impressed. Arrow did everything I asked in getting our stuff moved over here. You'd have thought that this had always been Gracie's bedroom. Decorated with pictures of her family, drawings she made that he brought from her home, all her toys. It looks perfect.

It's more than I can say for the rest of the house and packlands. This was not how I wanted Evan to see Shadowmoon for the first time. I wanted it to be ready and worthy of her, a place she would immediately associate as home. Not a dilapidated fixer-upper.

From outside Evan's door I can hear the change in her breathing, hear the way her breath hitches just before she whimpers in pain. There's no stopping my wolf now, the door knob is fully twisted before I even think to give her a courtesy knock.

Luna bolts right past me and takes off downstairs. I'm not worried about her, someone will let her outside.

Evan sits upright on the side of the bed, honey brown hair catching the morning sun and shining like gold. I catch a glimpse of Gracie easing into the morning in her toddler bed — another forethought I'll have to thank Arrow for.

"Hello, gorgeous," I walk over to Evan, eager to touch her, kiss her, hear her voice. "How'd you sleep?" I pause, taking in her appearance. "What are you wearing? Is that mine or yours?" There's no mistaking it. She's definitely wearing one of my favorite hoodies. It's large on her so she's swimming in it but, my Gods what a sight. Evan in my clothes, my bed, my scent.

My canines begin to extend and I'm dizzy with desire. Not just the lustful kind of desire, the possessive kind. The desire to claim her, to be claimed by her, to possess and protect and provide for her.

"It's yours. I'm sorry. I got up in the middle of the night looking for one. I get too hot for blankets but too cold to sleep with nothing so I usually wear a hoodie," she explains quickly in one hurried breath before dropping her voice to a whisper. "And it just smells so good."

My eyebrow lifts, intrigued by that last comment. "What does it smell like?"

Evan peers up at me through her long lashes, worrying at her lip. She lifts her hands to the collar of the hoodie and lifts it up over her mouth so it rests under her nose.

"Like you."

"I hope that's a good thing," I chuckle and keep up the facade like I don't know what she's sensing. "What do I smell like?"