Sunlight penetrated the darkness behind my eyelids. I no longer sprawled sideways on the bed on top the comforter but underneath it, snugly tucked in. Clay sat up in the space next to me, pillows stacked behind him as he read a book. His posture didn’t fool me. He really sat there to watch over me while I slept. I knew with an unexplainable certainty that he would never leave me again.

“Good morning,” I said, pulling the covers up to my chin. Thanks to Rachel-the-heat-miser, the room felt cool, but I enjoyed lower rent.

Clay closed his book as soon as I woke and turned to examine me.

“I want to talk to you but keep falling asleep. If I do it again, wake me up.” I smiled at him when he pulled me close to snuggle against him. It was much warmer that way.

“During the Introduction when I said my head hurt, I saw a man step away from the line. I know how your kind view Introductions. It didn’t seem right so I peeked at his spark. It hurt like hell, but I saw he had the same color light as Elder Joshua and the wolf that’d attacked us. I thought maybe it could be the same guy, that he needed to leave because you’d recognize his scent. Then I saw three more, further away. Something’s going on, but I can’t figure out what.

“I know you didn’t stay with the pack full-time, but did you ever notice any of them acting different?”

He shook his head, actually giving me a direct answer. It should have made me happy. Instead, I sighed. I still didn’t have a clue.

He gently stroked my hair as I thought it through. “If only I could trust Sam. If I could ask him questions about Elder Joshua without him repeating them, I might be able to figure this thing out.”

My head started to hurt again. Maybe if I stopped thinking about it so much, the answer would just come to me.

Sam called my cell the following weekend. I’d expected to hear from him much sooner. He surprised me by asking if I’d come back to the Compound over the long holiday weekend. I hedged. Did he want me to return so he could arrange another Introduction?

When I didn’t give a definitive answer, he launched into a long speech about how he knew he’d disappointed me and how he really did worry about me, not just the pack. I tried to be understanding but didn’t bend much.

Finally, he came right out and asked what had happened to me during the last visit. I answered vaguely, claiming ignorance. Werewolves couldn’t recognize lies as well over the phone. A long moment of silence passed. When he spoke, he didn’t comment on my answer but again asked that I consider coming home over holiday break. I knew he meant the Compound and told him I’d think about it.

After that, he continued to call me daily just to talk. Most of our brief conversations touched on weather, school, or investments. Anything pack related stayed off limits. I could tell he was concerned, but trust, once lost, took longer to earn back. I wouldn’t tell him any of my suspicions until I could confirm some of them.

For the next few weeks, the challenges stopped, and I pushed the pack, strange colored sparks, and my pull from my head. Instead, I focused on my studies.

Clay worked at Dale’s while I stayed on campus. I hadn’t given up trying to figure out why he’d picked Dale to be his employer. However, whenever I asked, he responded with a shrug. I never asked him if he followed me to school as Luke had suggested. Some things I preferred to remain a mystery.

I thought Clay’s expectations would change after our kiss, but he never pushed for more. He continued to stay in his fur most of the time, except for Tuesday nights when he had dinner waiting for me. I looked forward to our nights together and not just because he cooked exceptionally well.

Rachel knew I was spending more time with him, and on one of our quiet nights together, she asked about Clay-the-man while Clay-the-dog lay curled on the floor next to me.

“You are so weird about him. What is it about the guy that keeps you coming back?” She sat on the couch, folding her summer clothes and packing them into a tote.

Smiling slightly, I turned the page of the book in my lap before I answered.

“You don’t know him like I do.”

“How can you know him at all when you two don’t talk?”

“You don’t need to talk to get to know someone. You just need to listen,” I said absently, trying to concentrate on my reading. My words rattled in my head for a moment before what I said clicked into place. I froze and looked at Clay. His brown eyes met mine steadily.

Damn the patient, clever dog. A smile twitched my lips. I never had a chance...and I didn’t mind.

“But that’s what I’m saying. He doesn’t talk. What are you listening to?”

I laughed at her and myself. “Actions speak louder than words,” I quoted, finally looking up at Rachel. “He’s there when I need him, he’s kind and caring, he keeps me safe, and as you’ve seen, he cooks and cleans. What’s not to like, Rachel?”

She grumbled under her breath but didn’t have anything else to add.

Clay walked over to her and lay on some of her dresses, ending her mutterings that I should get out and meet other people. She laughed at him then tried to move him. He laid his head on his paws and winked at me. He wasn’t mad but enjoyed giving Rachel some grief.

Shaking my head, I went to the fridge and left Rachel to tug her dresses out from under his bulk on her own. In the fridge, I saw a new carton of orange juice along with a double-chocolate cake. Two layers of chocolate frosted goodness. My mouth watered. I usually ignored the food Rachel bought, but that one begged my attention.

“Can I have a piece of your cake?”

“I thought it was yours. It was here when I got home,” she called back.

I stood staring at the cake a long time. How could I be so blind? He’d shrugged when I’d asked why he’d gotten his job, but the answer, wrapped in layers of sinful chocolate mousse frosting, sat before my eyes.

Thinking back, I identified several of the little things I’d previously overlooked. Things I’d assumed Rachel had purchased, like movies I’d mentioned I wanted to see. He’d gotten his job for me because of my speech the day after we’d met. My heart melted a little as I thought of all the effort he’d put into trying to be what I needed, and I knew I fought a losing battle.

The air grew colder and snow started to fall the week before Thanksgiving. The wind howled outside, still finding a way past the new windows. Despite the low-set thermostat, the heat kicked in often, and I worried about the bill. Even with Clay warming my feet, I’d added another quilt to the bed.

Broke and out of quilts, I lay under the covers, shivering. I wore two pairs of lounge pants, a t-shirt, and a sweatshirt. If I could just fall asleep, I knew I’d warm eventually. During the night, I usually stripped to one layer. But warming the bed took forever...on my own.

“Screw this,” I said, sitting up. I started pulling off my sweatshirt. The streetlight filtered through the curtains, so I could make out the shapes in my room. I tossed the sweatshirt toward the closet.

Clay lifted his head, tilting it just so.

I ignored him for the moment and shimmied out of my second layer of pants while trying to stay under the covers. The pants soared through the air and landed next to the shirt.

“Clay, will you keep me warm tonight?” I’d barely whispered the words when he jumped off the bed.

A moment later, he pulled back the covers and joined me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest. Bare chest. I sighed, pressed my face against his skin, warming my cold nose, and wrapped my free arm around his waist. Then, I tucked my feet under his calves. He grunted slightly but didn’t loosen his hold.