Page 53 of Ronan

“Wow…” He stretches the word out with so much sarcasm, my eyes roll up to the sky as I pray for patience. “Big, tough Ronan was going to change the tides of the world. Alter the future of the planet with nothing more than his bare hands and iron will…”

“Enough,” I groan, but of course he isn’t done.

His voice drops, low and dramatic. “Alone, he wanders the earth, single-handedly solving crime and fighting bad guys, kissing babies and catching swooning women, waiting for the day he achieves his status… as… a…god.”

“Alright, you asked for it,” I mutter as I stand, swooping low to throw him over my shoulder as he falls into a fit of laughter. Boomerang bounces around beside us, leaping into the air as she tries to figure out what game we’re playing, and Cameron laughs even louder as I run towards the house.

“What are you doing with me?!” he cries, laughing harder when I swat him in the ass. “You fiend! You mongrel!” I push my fingers into his side as he shrieks, wiggling and squirming as he tries to get loose. “I’m ticklish, you asshole!”

“I know,” I tease as we make it inside and I plop him onto the couch, his face red and his smile magnificent. “We’ve spent the entire day working, and it’s time for you to rest.”

“The solar panels aren’t functioning yet,” he points out, and I shrug.

“There’s always tomorrow, Cam.”

“I like it when you call me that,” he says, voice small, and I preen internally as I pass him his book and a bottle of water. He peers at me over the top of his glasses as he accepts them.

“Relax while Isingle-handedlymake you dinner. Although... there are no babies for me to shower with myaffections, so you’ll have to do. Maybe if you’re good, we’ll explore those kisses later.” His earlier reaction replays in my mind, the way he scrambled off my lap like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I hesitate, worrying my bottom lip as I meet his eyes. “Only if that’s what you want.”

“I do,” he rushes to say, his cheeks burning red as he glances away. “Can you just trust me when I say it’s nothing you’ve done?”

“Is this the human’s ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech I’ve heard rumor of?” I ask, but he doesn’t laugh, only stares at the ground as the tips of his ears flush to match his face. I frown, kneeling between his knees and waiting for his eyes to find mine.

“Cam,” I whisper, and his lips attempt a smile that doesn’t fully form. “We’re both learning as we go, and we’ll make mistakes. I hope you know you can talk to me, even if we’re being idiots.”

“Did you just call me an idiot?” he asks, his voice a little shaky, and I smile as I press a soft kiss to his lips.

“It’s not an insult if it’s true.” He laughs, a quiet, breathy one, as I grin.

Some of his stress is gone when he finds my eyes again, and I squeeze his leg, pushing myself to stand when he stops me. “I promise, I’ll tell you. Just… give me some time.”

He could ask me for my heart on a silver platter, and I’d carve it out with my own two hands and serve it to him, even as I lie dying.

Time?

I’ll give him as much of that as he needs.

Chapter 17

Cameron

Over the next few days, we establish a pattern.

Well,weestablish a pattern, yes, but I also develop a special one for myself. It’s great fun, really… goes like this…

Wake up horny and desperate to touch Ronan, but hold back because, as he’s mentioned plenty of times, I am an idiot. Fight myself until I fall asleep, only to find him cooking breakfast when I get out of bed. It’s at that point in my schedule that guilt forms a ball in my stomach for not justtellinghim, but then he turns and smiles, and knowing those smiles are only mine makes it a little easier to handle.

We pick a new building to search every day, spending a few hours scavenging before lunch, then I tackle the solar panels while Ronan sorts through our findings. Compared to my chaos, he’s incredibly structured, using the garage as a workspace. There are types and categories, and items sorted by size, condition, and usefulness.

If I wasn’t convinced he was another species before now, this would be what did it. Forget the tails and fangs, no one is this organized. No humans, in any case.

Mountains of belongings are accumulating in the garage—food, clothing, tools, soaps, and a lifetime’s accumulation of junk. We can’t possibly carry it all, yet he insists on meticulously searching every corner and drawer.

Ronan has trouble sitting still, much like I do, but our need to move stems from different reasons. His is born from a lifetime in the military. Without the structured schedules and defined rules to direct his life, he needs to keep himself busy.

Mine is different.

My desire to run is a necessity—from the times I’ve had to pick up and sprint away from danger.

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