Page 7 of Wolfgang

They wanted their mate. And they would have him, soon enough. But first, some reconnaissance.

Wolfe would not be caught unprepared.

Wolfe’s future partner was frustratingly hard to get a read on, even after days of watching him from the shadows.

A few things made perfect sense. His being a doctor, for one. Of course Wolfe’s fated companion would be intelligent; that was a given. He was physically appealing as well. Tall and sturdily built, with a surprisingly boyish face for a man pushing forty, topped by a wonderfully golden head of hair, one that would suit him even better if it were allowed to grow out just a touch longer.

He was also, Wolfe had surmised, a bit of a slut. Or at the very least, tried to be.

Despite his long shifts at the hospital, the good doctor had gone out three of the five nights Wolfe had been keeping an eye on him, clearly trying to pick up a good time for the evening. Although he didn’t seem too terribly disappointed when he failed, always smiling congenially at whoever had just turned him down, buying them another drink even as he left them to their own devices.

Whythey always seemed to turn him down was a bit of a mystery to Wolfe. Perhaps Dr. Monroe had developed a reputation in such a relatively small town. Perhaps they all simply preferred brunettes. Or perhaps it was due to a certain…air of desperation about him. One that Wolfe, muted as his own empathetic tendencies may have been, could sense even from afar. One that was incongruent with the doctor’s good looks and superficial charm.

Although, to be honest, Wolfe personally found that sort of neediness appealing, at least in this instance. It would make the act of bonding that much easier, if the doctor was desperate for connection.

But even so, Dr. Monroe attempting to sleep with half the town didn’t necessarily preclude a neglected partner waiting in the wings, so Wolfe had left a little present: a single rose. To see who, if anyone, the good doctor would call to thank.

It was a bit silly and perhaps dramatic, as far as fishing for information went, but that didn’t negate the delicious symbolism of his offering. And his future mate deserved a gift, whether or not he was aware of its origins.

But in the end, the doctor hadn’t called anyone. Which was lucky for his apparently nonexistent, hypothetical partner, as Wolfe would hate to jeopardize his standing in the town by killing one of its humans right off the bat.

It was odd though. In the absence of a partner, Wolfe had expected his human to be intrigued, possibly amused by the flower. But Dr. Monroe had looked not only confused but almostfrightenedby the gift.

Yes, Wolfe mused, after picking the lock on the good doctor’s front door for the fifth time in as many days (and really, would it kill the man to invest in some semblance of a security system?).Very hard to get a read on.

He felt it was even truer after making his way into the doctor’s bedroom. Because there, on the bedside table, sitting in a sad little smudged glass, was the second rose. Wolfe’s chest surged with some unfamiliar emotion to see it standing there. He’d left this second one as a lark, really. The poor human had seemed so absolutely confused by the first one that Wolfe had been compelled to offer another. He hadn’t expected him to keep it, not after trashing the first.

Perhaps Wolfe should have left a proper bouquet, then. That little singular rose was hardly a fitting courting gift.

Not here, Wolfe’s beast grumbled, interrupting his musings.Our mate is nothere.

“Well, you knew he wouldn’t be, you foolish creature,” Wolfe reasoned, opening the bedside table drawer to find—not surprising in the least—a mess of condoms and a half-empty bottle of lubricant.

Want him.

“In time.” Wolfe meandered over to the dresser, on which the offensive bottle of sandalwood aftershave was sitting. He considered for a brief moment tossing it in the trash. But such an act, if noticed, would surely scare the human more than anything. Best to tackle the topic of suitable colognes later, really.

Frightened.

Wolfe froze, fingers just brushing the glass bottle. “Excuse me?”

You’re frightened.

Wolfe scoffed, turning on his heel to inspect the contents of the doctor’s closet. He wasn’t frightened. He wasneverfrightened; it wasn’t an emotion with which he was even remotely familiar. Lack of fear was one of the defining characteristics of his…special condition, in point of fact.

He was simply being cautious, getting the lay of the land before he approached.

And he was right to be concerned, wasn’t he? It was a complicated matter, how best to approach someone to offer immortality when it came with the condition of being bonded forever to someone who didn’t quite feel things the way others did. Someone who was possibly unable to offer true love and affection.

He could lie, of course. Easy enough to do. But there would eventually be a fallout, and that would be annoying to deal with. A bonded pair was supposed to be able to feel each other’s emotions, or lack thereof. Wolfe wouldn’t be able to fake it, not with his future mate.

And really, it was good he was doing a little digging first, wasn’t it? Because this humble abode simply would notdo.The two-bedroom hovel might be enough for the doctor on his own, but the closet size alone was reason enough to invest in something grander.

He stood in the dismal closet, toying with the neckline of one of the button-downs hanging there, indulging himself by brushing his nose against the fabric. There it was, that wonderful scent: wisteria.

Wolfe’s cock twitched as he inhaled deeply. It was a new, strange side effect, ever since he’d first laid eyes on his mate in the flesh. He was always on the edge of arousal, like some foolhardy teen.

It was surprisingly irritating. Lust had always been easy enough for him to ignore before, when it didn’t suit his purposes. He could be celibate for long stretches of time without feeling like he was missing anything. But here he was considering unzipping his suit pants and stroking himself to completion, layering his own scent all over the good doctor’s clothes.

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