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The room felt like a shell, a wooden carapace where conversation was supposed to be. The TV hung like a void against the wall, black and dull with vague shapes where Ayla should have seen herself on the couch. Sunlight slanted through the window, narrow on the floor. The fireplace lay quiet, ashy and cold.

Ayla reached for her phone, but the wolf thought better of it half-way through the motion. Better to wait. The wait was driving her mad, though— she’d called a half-day just to be here, back at home. At the time it had sounded like a good idea: get the place ready, change into something comfy, make a little dinner to share with Koda when he got back. Now it was reality, a fidgety thing buzzing with anticipation.

She looked at her phone again, face-up on the coffee table. There wasn’t a message, no missed call, just the clock counting ever upwards. 5:11. She closed her eyes, let her head loll back. There was no point lounging and doing nothing with her time but she’d already set the oven and there wasn’t a thing on television to watch. Instead, Ayla had to sit there nursing the conversation in her chest.

The couch cushions rustled against the silver of her fur as she shifted, her shorts pulling against her thighs as she kicked her feet up on the table. The feeling in her was like ink in water, black ribbons of thought and emotion stirred up inside her with each anxious jostle against the couch. She could feel it in her stomach, that tightness. It was like the world’s shortest pregnancy, weeks gestating as she watched the tension in Koda’s jaw, the way their evenings spiralled into shorter and shorter talks.

Something about the candle of their relationship had started to sputter and dim like a flame in a vacuum. Just the thought of it made her dig her nails into her palm. Koda wouldn’t talk about it, whatever it was he carried as it began to snuff out the light in his eyes. But Ayla could see the effect; she could feel it as surely as she could feel the chill of the room. Tonight would be different, though, it had to be.

Her ears shot up as she heard the key in the lock, the brassy rasp of the handle turning.

In an instant, she was up. Her pawpads ghosted the hardwood as she slipped around the side of the couch, its springs groaning as it gave up her weight. “Honey?” She called out before she’d reached the corner, her hand resting on the edge of the wall as she stood in the junction between the kitchen and the living room.

Down the end of the hallway opposite her, the open door. Just inside it, Koda.

He was a tall and broad leopard, the spots in his fur black against the steely-blue of his fur. The button-down he wore stretched along the musculature of his chest, his body built like a concrete foundation brought to life. Yet something softened as he saw her— he smiled, but she could see the weight in his eyes.

“How was your day?” Ayla asked.

It was like a wave washed through her mate, a veil falling over his face as he drew his lips tight together.

“Good,” Koda said, hanging up his bag on the hooks by the door.

There it was, the same wall she always got. Only a few months ago he’d have had a story to go on about from the job site, one of his employees getting creative in how they broke the equipment or the latest breakthrough in the contracts his company had procured. Now it was just this. Just ‘good’ or ‘okay’ as if he stepped over the threshold and winked out of existence for eight hours.

“Okay,” Ayla said, arms folded, her brows drawn together. “Did you all make any new progress on the restoration project? Claire have anything to say about City Hall?”

Koda’s face soured, and Ayla felt a twinge in her chest. She hadn’t meant to step on a landmine, she hadn’t even known it was there, but she couldn’t help the feeling that something had just gone click under her heel.

“The Old Statehouse is… coming along,” Koda said, glancing her way. “Claire’s preoccupied.”

Ayla drew her head back. “Preoccupied? She’s your contract admin, what else could she be doing but talking with the council?”

Koda shrugged, leaning in to kiss Ayla’s cheek as he stepped past her towards the kitchen. “Preoccupied. You making dinner?”

Ayla pursed her lips, but let it go with a sigh. “Yeah, been ready for a bit, just been keeping it warm. Hungry?”

“After nine hours on the site? Always.”

She pushed herself from the wall she’d been leaning on, the motion stiff. At least dinner got some interest out of Koda, though if the conversation tonight was anything like the past month, the food would be the only thing warm.

It was an open kitchen, no divider between it and the living room. One of the perks about dating a builder was that he had an eye for architecture, and the granite countertops and floating island proved it. Ayla had never lived in so nice a house until she’d moved in with her mate— the nicest place she’d lived before had been lucky to have HVAC, let alone a working range. A chipped-enamel stove and cracked tile had been the cost of living in the city, a working garbage disposal the height of luxury.

The stainless steel fridge and induction oven would have been a dream to her then, and honestly, they still were now. The faucet was brushed nickel, pots and pans hanging above the island in a neat row like matryoshka dolls of ascending size. The smell of baked chicken savory in the air, thyme and rosemary lingering just beneath as Ayla tapped a speaker and soft piano notes filled the air. She smiled. It should have been perfection, but all she could see was Koda stood there. Quiet. Staring off through the window.

He leaned against the granite edge of the sink, the stone cold against the pads of his hands. Outside, the sun was just beginning to dip over the tops of the trees, their leaves a mosaic silhouette against the light. He felt as though he were looking into an aquarium, like everything out in the world was moving through water.

All day his thoughts had been consumed by a project that was beginning to eat into the red, and a team that knew it. It wasn’t uncommon in construction for a project to go over budget, even though it was less than pleasant, but that meant more arguing with the client—in this case the city council—and more questions from a crew who could see their paychecks on the line.

Koda sighed, running his hand along the inside of the sink without thinking. His finger found the chip on the inside, a piece of granite that had flaked away with the careless knock of some pot or pan. Probably the cast-iron he made breakfast with. He didn’t know when it had broken, only that it had been like that for months. He played with it now, finger toying with the rougher groove as he heard Ayla behind him. She said something as she opened the oven.

For the project, the writing had been on the wall for a month now— if they didn’t get funds from the client, they were going to be insolvent. That meant dipping into the company reserve to pay out James and Claire, potentially putting Tom and his crew on furlough if they really didn’t see any cash rolling through. More delays meant longer timelines, more time keeping lumber and concrete out of the elements, finding space to store the equipment, hoping no one tried to thieve any of their tools for cash and—

Koda blinked, Ayla slipping her arms around his waist as she pressed up against his back.

“I asked if you wanted to join me on the couch,” Ayla said, leaning up to rest her chin on his shoulder. Through the thin cotton of his shirt he could feel the warmth of her fur like a radiator, soaking into him as her fingers played with one of the little plastic buttons over his belly. He closed his eyes, a smile breaking over his lips despite himself.

“The couch?” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Are we back in college?”

“Can be, if you want,” Ayla said, her tail swaying behind her as she pressed into him just a touch more firmly. “Though I’m not sure my liver can keep up with that many drinks any more, or that I’ll make it past midnight before you’ve gotta carry me upstairs.”

Koda laughed, pulling his hand back from the flaw in the granite to rest on her hand. “Maybe we don’t need that part, cute as you are when you’re three sheets to the wind.” Her fingers were delicate compared to his, the blue-grey of her fur melding almost seamlessly with his. “Got an early morning too, have to be ba—”

“Shh,” Ayla closed her eyes, hushing him with a whisper. “That’s tomorrow, this is tonight. You’re going to be a good boy and fill my glass with wine while I hunt you up a plate.”

Koda closed his eyes, nodding as he kept his smile from fading any further. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said, the words wry.

“Good, was worried you’d stopped listening to orders when you started giving them,” Ayla stepped back, patting her mate’s ass. “Now hurry up, something red.”

She heard him chuckle as he turned, but she was already moving back to the meal. While he’d been staring off, she’d already pulled the chicken from the oven, set it down next to the asparagus that she’d broiled. There were few things that tasted better than a home-cooked meal, and some things couldn’t be bought at a restaurant.

Carefully, she carved slices off the bone and onto a ceramic plate, careful to get the juices with it too. It was hard not to drool, those canine senses of hers alight with the smell. There were jokes she’d grown up with at school about scraps and fires and domestication, but the scent of meat had a way of getting right to her stomach and the flare of her nostrils hardly helped.

She glanced at Koda as she plated the greens, watching his shirt stretch against the broader muscles of his shoulders and back. He was just as handsome as the day she’d met him, older and maybe a little less rash, but still the same man she’d fallen in love with. He dusted off a bottle of cabernet with the back of his hand, squinted at the back as if he really understood what all the different motes and flavours were, and nodded. It was cute enough to make her smile, and she didn’t look away as he caught her staring, giving her that little cock of his head.

She shook hers as if to tell him not to worry, already moving to the potatoes she’d mashed. She heaped them onto his plate as he popped the cork out of the bottle, the delicate, sour oaky smell of cabernet tickling at her nose even from here. He sloshed it into a glass as she set the cutlery, tucked the ends into the potatoes so they wouldn’t fall off the plate as she moved. Then, she was stepping around the island and into the living room, setting the plates against the glass top of the table with a light clink.

Koda settled beside her, claiming one of the cushions. She leaned into him a moment, then bent forward to spear a piece of chicken and drag her knife through it. She loved the man, but she wasn’t about to let that keep her from filling her stomach.

“God, did I date you because of the cooking? Or was that just a benefit?” Koda said, the mouthful of potatoes not doing him any services.

“I seem to recall it being a perk,” Ayla said, lifting a brow as she shot him a grin. “Though I’d say it was my wit and charm. Opposites attract.”

Koda shook his head, then furrowed his brow. Ayla laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek again. “I’m playing, sweetheart. I wouldn’t be cooking you dinner if I didn’t love my man.”

Koda smiled, though he glanced away as he took another forkful of potatoes. It made something in Ayla’s chest twinge; maybe anyone else wouldn’t have noticed, but the way his shoulders dropped that fraction, the little fold in his ears… her heart fell against her ribs as she swallowed and took another bite.

They finished their meal like that, Ayla washing it down with wine as she desperately tried to keep from bouncing her leg. It was a nervousness she couldn’t help, the only sound the scraping of forks and the muted piano playing in the kitchen. All she’d wanted to do was make her mate feel better but she couldn’t escape the feeling that she’d just driven a pin into the balloon she’d been trying to inflate.

“I think I’m going to head up to the room,” Koda said, setting his fork down. “It’s… been a long day. I can get the dishes in the morning, if you like.”

“No, honey, I can get them, it’s okay,” she said, a sinking feeling in her stomach as Koda stood. She could feel everything she’d wanted to say all day, all the past few days welling up in her throat just to catch there like fat in a drain. It wasn’t an obvious thing, the way Koda carried the weight, but the fact that she could see it bending him, dragging along as he stepped away and towards the stairs…

“Wait,” she blurted, lifting a hand. It caught Koda by surprise, who turned back to her with his ears alert, his head tilted.

“I…” What could she say? They’d been dancing around this for the past month now, and to bring it all up, to put all of her worries into words… she’d been avoiding it because it felt as though it would make them more real, but now she couldn’t help but feel as though she were losing the man she loved bit by bit.

“I want to talk,” she said, and she could see the way Koda tensed. He didn’t walk away though. Instead, he smoothed out his shirt and turned back, his face a silent, tentative question.

“It’s nothing bad. Well,” she winced, “I don’t think it is? Just… sit. Please?”

It felt as though there were a thousand tiny ball-bearings all rolling inside of Koda’s hands as he looked back at Ayla, swallowing as he nodded. There were no words a mate wanted to hear less than ‘I want to talk,’ and after the day that he’d had he wished he could just brush it all away. But… that wouldn’t be fair. Not to Ayla. Not to his mate and whatever she had to say.

The couch groaned as he settled back down, though he didn’t lounge back. In only a moment, the cushions felt harder than they had when he’d just been sitting, less comfortable.

“I’m worried about you,” Ayla said, and the way she closed her eyes pulled at something in his chest. Her ears folded back, her tail curled around her hip as she pushed her hands into her lap.

The pain on her face made Koda want to scoop her up, hold her tight to his chest. It crushed him to see the smile she’d been putting on break like this, and to know that it was because of him… He opened his mouth, but Ayla held up a hand.

“I’m worried,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “You’ve not been yourself for the past few weeks, and every time I try to bring it up, you,” she curled her claws into her thighs, “well, you shut down. I didn’t want to poke at you because I know that won’t help, but these past few dinners I’ve barely been able to get a word out of you. I’m just concerned that you’re not telling me something.” She glanced at him. “I’m concerned that you’re not you, lately. You’re barely acting like yourself.”

That stung, and it must have been on his face because Ayla winced, putting her hand on his thigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to be harsh. I’m just not sure how to talk about this.”

“I know,” he said, and hesitated. Where to even begin?

He pushed his foot against the hardwood and slipped his toes under the edge of the carpet. He lifted it. Made a cave out of the harsh fabric under the softer piles. A month of drudgery lingered in the dark of his skull, months chewing over each detail of a construction project that was eroding beneath him. It wasn’t anything Ayla would be interested in, not the details of it or the every day, and trying to explain it without any of the boring minutiae wouldn’t make an ounce of sense.

Ayla watched him. She saw how his shoulders slumped like gravity had hooked a chain around his neck and pulled. It was as if he were locked in place: his eyes stared down past the floor, past the concrete foundation, past the dirt to some core truth in the earth that only he knew about. It made something inside of her crack, a fracture that went deeper than her ribs and yet burned just beneath the skin.

She shifted herself closer, slipped her arm around the small of his back. His shoulder was warm against her, the fabric of his shirt thin enough that the heat of his body radiated through fur and cotton alike. She took a slow breath in. Held it. Let it go.

“I know that something is bothering you,” she said, staring at the table. “I can feel it, honey. You spend so much of your life pouring concrete and putting up homes, I just worry you can’t see how easy it is to bring those walls home with you.”

She looked up, rested her chin on the hard, bony bit of his shoulder. “It’s okay to talk about it.”

That was enough. There was a feeling in his throat like wood bending in a storm, something wet and grating just behind his tongue. Small coals kindled behind his eyes as he felt the pinpricks of tears. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes tight.

“I…” He cleared his throat, coughed. “I’m not sure that the project is going to last.”

Ayla pressed her lips into a line, her hand on his back. “Honey…”

“It’s all I can think about. We’re behind schedule, we’re in the red, and Claire spends most of her time at the Bureau trying to drum up cash. Most of her time. I’m… pretty sure the rest of the crew can smell it,” he dug his fingers into his thighs, drawing a breath, “I’ve seen a few of them looking at other job sites, hell, I know I saw Claire updating her resume. It feels like everyone knows something I don’t, that I’m just delaying the inevitable.”

He shook his head as he said it, sweeping his arm across the room.

Ayla wanted to reassure him, something twisting in her gut as she watched her mate choke back the pain and the tears. Everything about the past month clicked into place, the sleepless nights and the lack of energy, the way he’d been chewing a problem through his head over and over. All she wanted was to say those words that would make everything better, wipe this all away. She wished she had them.

Instead, she drew back, closed her eyes. Koda noticed the shift, wiping at his eye as he shot her a puzzled look.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Okay, maybe it goes under. That’ll be awful, but… that happens. Right?”

“Yeah,” he said, brows knit together. “Yeah, but the company would be bankrupt. Hell, it’d scare off work for at least a year, probably keep me out of construction at least that long.”

“And we’ll figure it out if it does,” she said, giving him a tight smile. “Won’t be easy, won’t be fun, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Yes, but the company, Claire and the guys…”

“Will have to find new work, and that’ll be hard too. But they’re smart, and they’ve had a great boss. Hell, I’m sure you can recommend a couple of crews who’d be happy to have ‘em.” She gave him a shrug. “It’ll suck not to have her around for the holiday party, but I’m sure she can bring her ribs to a cookout if you finally use that stupid grill out back.”

Koda looked at her. How could she take this so easily? He was talking about losing it all, watching everything go down the drain if he couldn’t get more money. It was years of work, nearly a decade. Sweat, tears, some blood too. All of it washed away if he couldn’t get through this.

“I’d lose it all,” Koda said, his voice small. “Everything I built in this company, wiped by one stagnant project. It’s… not a little thing.”

Ayla took a breath, nodding as she let it out. “I know, I watched you put every hour in.” She took his hands in hers, leaned herself into him. “I don’t want to sound cavalier, because I’m not. If it happens, it’s awful. It would be awful. But… we don’t know that yet. You could still turn this around, you have the team for it.”

She looked at him, gave him a little nudge with her shoulder.

“Besides, you’d still have me,” she said as she smiled slightly, those bright blue eyes finding his. She slipped one of her hands from Koda’s, gesturing at the fireplace across the room. “We’d still have the house too, wouldn’t we?”

Koda frowned, but he nodded. “We would. I wouldn’t have the job to pay the mortgage, but…”

“Ahem.” Ayla looked up at him, her eyes slits.

“Okay,” he said, pursing his lips. “My darling wife would have to give up a few nights, but she would still have work…”

“Thank you,” she said, bumping him again. “We’d figure it out. If it happens. We can prepare for the future, but we can’t lose ourselves before it comes.”

Koda nodded, taking a shaky breath. He let it out, and the next one was smoother. Calmer. “Yeah. Yeah, it always seems so… so big when it’s in my head. Talking it through, I feel a little silly.’

“It’s not silly, honey,” Ayla said, squeezing his leg. “You were scared, I just wish that you’d brought it up sooner. Avoided all… this.”

“Well,” Koda said, hesitating. “I wanted to, but I know that you find all of this boring. The details, what my crew does, what it’s like to order materials, or all the negotiations up at the Hall.” Koda shifted, leaning back a little. “That, and I didn’t want to burden you with it. It’s not like it’s something that you can control.”

He closed his eyes. “If I talked about it, I wouldn’t stop talking. It’s not a problem that goes away in a day, not in a week, and certainly not this month. It’d… get old. Fast.” He shook his head, pushing the heel of his hand into his knee. “You’d get annoyed with it, or I worry you would. You know, wish I’d talk about something else rather than worry at it like a loose tooth. Better to just… deal with it. You know?”

When he looked over, he saw that Ayla was pinching the bridge of her nose, a grimace on her face.

“What?” Koda blinked.

“Honey…” Her voice was strained. “It’s…”

“Was I right?” Koda’s ears folded half a step, his tail curling into his lap.

“No,” Ayla said, exasperated. “You’re just… such a man.”

“A man?” Koda scrunched his face up, cocking his head.

“Yes, it’s… look, honey. Dearest. Love of my life—sit back.” She pushed his chest gently until he shifted. She moved him so that one foot was on the ground and the other laying along the length of the couch, half lounged against the arm-rest and the cushion. Ayla shuffled up so that she straddled him, sitting in his lap with her hands on both sides of his face. Her face was almost stern as she looked at him, but her eyes were soft. “You are not going to burden me by talking about your problems.”

The words struck him in the chest like a baseball, a sound in his throat. “I’m not—”

She tapped his nose. “You,” she continued, “are not a burden. Listening to my mate is not a burden. Your problems are a burden, yes, but they’re one that we carry together, not alone. You don’t have to be strong like that. You shouldn’t be expected to.”

He could feel it again, that heat behind his eyes. He swallowed, closed them as he tried to keep it back. Ayla paused, gave him a moment as she stroked her thumb along his cheek.

“You’re a builder, honey, and you’re used to thinking of shelter as a house,” she looked around them, taking in the warm light and painted walls. “But it’s not just something that keeps the rain off, it’s somewhere that you’re safe. It’s the arms of a woman who loves you very, very much and wants to hear the things that hurt you. Okay?”

Koda sniffled as he nodded, his eyes screwed shut. “Yeah…”

In every way, Koda was a big man. Taller than his wife, broad from a life spent hauling bags of concrete and pounding beams into place. With hands that could crush granite and a laugh like a bellows, he was someone who took up space. But now, pressed into the couch, he felt small. It was a compression from the weight of a month spent alone, not physically, but alone carrying a load only he could feel.

Only with Ayla in his lap, holding him like she did, did he realize how much weight he’d been carrying. That’s when the tears finally came, seeping under his eyelids like water through stone. With just her hands, just that soft voice, Ayla lifted him. Didn’t take the pressure away, didn’t even bear the brunt of it, but slipped in just enough to let him know that he wasn’t alone. That she was there. That she would be there.

His breath came shuddering as he nuzzled her hand, her voice soft above him. “Honey…” Then she was against his chest, shifting to wrap her arms around him and nestle in. He pulled her closer as he let the weeks fall from him like bark pulled from a tree. There was only sap beneath, an emotion thicker than blood as it oozed free. A tender thing. A vulnerable thing.

And through it all, Ayla held him. An assurance, soft and warm and safe. He didn’t know how long he lay like that, days of worry crumbling from him with each soft sob, brushed away with every gentle rub of Ayla’s hand along his chest. When he finally caught his breath, he smoothed his hands down Ayla’s back, rubbed his eyes. “Okay. Okay, I… yeah.”

“Yeah?” Ayla asked, and as he opened his eyes he saw the concern in her face.

“I’ll work at it,” he nodded again, slower. “I don’t think it’s something that’ll change overnight, but I won’t shut down again. I’ll… bring it up before it gets to be something.”

Ayla smiled, her chin resting on his chest. “That’s all I ask. It doesn’t have to be anything big, just talk to me.”

If only it felt as simple as it sounded. The thought of combing through the snarl of emotion in his guts made Koda want to sink into the couch; the thought of pulling it all free felt herculean. But, looking at his mate, he couldn’t help but feel as though the knot between his ribs was a little less complicated than it had been before. And if it wasn’t, maybe having an extra set of hands would help.

“You know,” Ayla said, not quite meeting his eye as she teased a hand along his arm, “I did have a slight plan for tonight.”

Koda cocked his head, enjoying the way her fingers trailed through his fur. “And that was?”

“Well, you’ve been wrapped up in work, making all these decisions and working around obstacles.”

“Yeah…?” He lifted a brow slightly.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want,” Ayla said, looking up at him. “I’m serious about that. But if you think it would help, I wouldn’t mind taking a few decisions off your mind tonight. You know, keep those idle hands tied up in a different project.”

Her grin was as playful as the slow and easy wag in her tail, but the look in those bright blue eyes was nothing but wolf.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” Koda laughed, mussing her ears with a hand that dwarfed her head. They flopped about as she scrunched up her face, but he didn’t miss the extra wag as Ayla gave a teasing growl.

“I just know what you like, and I know it’s been a second since you’ve gotten it,” she said with a shrug, resting her chin on the backs of her hands. “The fact that I enjoy seeing you whine is secondary.”

That got him. He couldn’t help it, not with the heat of his mate warm on top of him and the memory of how it felt to be snared in her ropes drifting through his mind like lace on the wind. Maybe he was just a bit raw, but the idea of ending up so firmly in the palm of her hand felt comforting.

“I suppose it is a night about vulnerability,” he said, and there wasn’t any keeping the slow purr out of his voice.

“Good boy,” she said, leaning right up to brush a kiss against his lips. “And I’ve changed my mind— you’re going to put away the dishes while I get ready upstairs. Can you do that?”

Koda savoured the velvet feeling of his lips against hers. “If my mate desires.”

“She does,” Ayla said, pushing herself off of him with careful hands. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while, hun. Now go and fetch, I’ll see you in a few.”

Koda watched as she walked away, a slight sashay in her hips— she knew he was watching. And damned if he’d drag his eyes from her, not with how her tail framed every sculpted curve of her ass. God, he’d lucked out. A girl with a figure like that, and the head and heart to take care of him at home. Glancing up at the ceiling, he breathed a silent thank you to whatever gods might be for blessing him like this.

It took him only a few minutes to gather the dishes and rinse them, folding foil over the chicken and scraping the leftovers into tupperware. Yet every second he spent down in the kitchen was another second that the anticipation built in his chest. As he crimped the aluminum foil around the baking tray, he wondered if Ayla would unravel the red lace tonight. The glint in the foil shone like the D-links of leather cuffs, glittering against the black leather that Ayla loved to tighten in his fur.

All of this stress, and he hadn’t thought about their time with silk and rope in months, hadn’t had a moment to sit back and relax and enjoy the simple company of his mate. He knew the importance of it, understood how he’d gotten here, but he couldn’t help but feel silly. Wrapped up in the rush, he’d been blind to the simple enjoyment that had lead him here. What was the working day for if not to have time in the evening to enjoy life? And here he was carrying his work with him like a yoke around his neck.

One look at the dishes in the sink told him they could wait until the morning, or at least soak a while as he took care of more important things. If that earned him a punishment, well… some things were worth it.

Climbing the steps to their room he saw the door ajar at the end of the hall, amber light spilling in a slash. Inside he could hear music, something with guitar and piano. There was myrrh in the air, the scent rolling through him like the breeze from a lavish, desert tent. Ayla had a way of adding an air of mystique to what she did, but he’d be damned if she didn’t build an atmosphere where he could forget the tension of the day.

He pushed open the door, stepped inside, and there she was. On her side in their bed, a red corset hugging the black and white of her fur with all the grace of water over stone. Candle light flickered through the room, spilling across her thighs like slopes of chiseled marble, catching in the valley of her chest as it cast dark and velvet shadows.

“Eyes up here, honey,” she said, her grin more feline than wolfish. “You haven’t earned that treat yet.” She sat up, and only now did he realize she’d slipped into heels as well. They dug into the carpet as if trying to pierce it, every step muted like a knife in its sheath. Her body should have been something sharp, should have had all the glint of steel. Yet when she slipped her hand along his side, it was softer than satin.

“If looks could kill,” he said, his arm looping around her waist.

“I’ve never been one to leave the safety on,” she replied, the light flashing in her eyes. “It wouldn’t be trust if I was harmless, would it?”

Koda gave her a wry smile, but she had already taken him by the wrist. She pulled, and he followed, let her lead him to the bed and push him down onto it til he bounced on his back with a grunt.

“And if tonight’s about trust, I think my mate needs a little help,” she said, standing tall above him with one hip cocked. From around her wrist she unwrapped a red cloth band, the material matte and giving. “Tonight I’m your eyes, dear, and you get to see only what you need to.”

It was soft against his face, the band pulling tight as Ayla’s hand brushed along the side of his head. Some light seeped through, a gentle red glow like the last light of a sunset. A part of him was nervous, a little flutter in his chest as Ayla took his sight from him, the rawness of their conversation still lingering in his head, but in the darkness of the blindfold, all that lingered was her smile. Loving. Genuine. The kind of smile he remembered every time a shift at work lingered too long.

He couldn’t pretend that this was normal, or even something familiar to him. Sure when they were younger they’d fooled around like this, they’d had more time for it. But with the new job and Ayla’s own work, well, the longer and more time consuming play tended to fade into the background. You had more to do. You had more intense shifts. And, frankly, less energy.

“There’s the puppy I remember,” Ayla said, and he could hear the slightest laugh in her voice.

He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her moving, the springs of the bed shifting to follow her weight. She was to his left now, her hand running along his thigh and up his side as she steadied herself. Now that he couldn’t see, something about the feeling was more… present. Like a colour where the hue had been shifted up.

“That pet never ran far,” Koda said. “Sometimes a dog just needs a little rest.”

“Mm,” it sounded like she’d turned away, and the opening of their nightstand drawer confirmed that. There was a rustle. Cloth moving. Little bits of something metal falling against the wood. “Well, I think that pup’s been asleep a little too long. Help me wake him up?”

Koda laughed, a soft sound as he lay there with his head against the sheets. “Of course, hun. And how would I do that?”

Ayla’s hand found his wrist. “By putting this…” She guided his hand up, pulled it up and out to the side. “Here.”

He let it rest there, uncurled slightly. Relaxed. There was still that slight flutter in his chest, the tension in his belly not like a drum pulled taught, but more of a clothesline in the wind. Pliant. Loose. But still almost a vibration every time her fingers teased through his fur.

Which is what they did now, her palm warm through the thinner fur of his wrist. The pads along her fingertips caressed his skin, supple and easy as her thumb ran up the tendon that ran to the heel of his hand, paused for just a moment, then traced along the base of his palm.

Then she pushed her hand into his with all the speed of melting wax, her fingers slipping up just to entwine between his own. She pushed a little harder, put more weight into him, the mattress shifting again. There was nothing to see, but he turned his head anyway just as her lips met his.

It wasn’t the first time he’d kissed his mate, not by a long margin. But it felt like the first. Without his eyes, all he could do was feel the give of her lips, the sensitive skin that felt like velvet against her own. Warm. Wet from where her tongue had run along them. The whisper of fur along her muzzle met his in a slow and melding touch only heightened by the easy push of her snout. Loving, as she opened her mouth that barest bit more. Teased her tongue past.

“Nnnh…” There was no hiding the sound, cousin to a groan. It started in his chest, meandering up to greet her just like his mouth. He brought his hand up to find her head, but a gentle push of her fingers reminded him to leave it be.

Before the kiss could deepen, she pulled back, and he couldn’t help the slow disappointment he felt. It was the kind of thing a dog felt when a car drove off quicker than it could run, the base craving of a spoiled chase. Was that really how he felt? Like he was in college again, adrift in his dorm-room with the hottest girl on campus straddling his lap, wondering just what he’d done to land a catch like her.

Ayla hadn’t pulled away for nothing though, her hand slipping from his. He didn’t move this one either, not even as he felt her pull a line of cloth beneath it. Lace as well, he was fairly confident, but he wasn’t exactly an expert in the feeling of cord and rope. Whichever it was, though, it certainly accomplished its goal as Ayla wove it over and under itself just to drag back along his palm.

She wasn’t harsh as she pulled up, but she was insistent. Up and out, she left him with his arm extended most of the way, and he could tell by the way the lace bounced and tugged that she was wrapping it around the post at the edge of the bed’s headboard.

“That’s not too tight, is it? Arm still comfortable?” She asked from somewhere in the glow of the blindfold.

“Mm,” Koda answered, testing it slightly. “That’s perfect, sweetheart.”

“Good, I like my boys as comfy as they are obedient,” she said, her tail brushing his calf as it swayed.

Ayla took pleasure in seeing him like this, supine and spread. The bluish-grey of his fur was a delicate contrast to the crimson of the blindfold, the lace pulling at Koda’s arm as though it was an extension of him. The Red String of Fate, she’d read somewhere. The line that connected all things.

She pressed a hand to his chest, and she could see the way his body tensed just slightly. With the blindfold, every touch was a surprise even if he expected her to be there. And with how long he’d been clinging to control of his life and control of his company, something about this seemed to have a hold so deep it was wrapped around his bones.

Carefully, Ayla slipped a thigh over his. She settled herself in his lap with all the grace in her body, settling her weight against him with a gentle ease of her hips. For all the tension, there wasn’t any mistaking the firmness of his sheath, not with it resting in the valley of her thighs, her ass a cushion against his nuts.

“Thought you’d be a little more excited by now,” she said, trailing her finger across his chest like she was connecting one spot to another.

“You put a little too much excitement in my life,” he replied, and she couldn’t help her laugh.

“If that’s so, I think I know how to get you relaxing.” She ran her hand along his arm, getting a feel for all the muscle corded beneath his pelt. He was like a living sculpture, his skin as smooth as driftwood beneath the padding of his pelt. Honed by years of work, built over a lifetime of labor as if each layer of muscle was one brick laid atop another.

Every touch was the admiration of a potter with a vase, his arm dimpled like clay beneath her fingers. Yet that hand trailed red lace, feathering along his fur as she pulled it above him, out til his fingers pointed at the bedpost. Each fold of the ribbon overlayed the other, a pleated handcuff that hugged his wrist just tight enough to remind, and just loose enough for comfort. She pulled it up, looped the tail around the post, and cinched the knot down.

“Still comfortable?”

“With you in my lap? How couldn’t I be,” he said, stealing a smile from her.

She tapped his nose. “I meant your wrist, pet.”

“That too.” His tail brushed the bed between his legs with each slow wag.

She settled herself back, and he shifted beneath her as her hips pushed against his own. Satisfaction settled in her chest, a full and easy warmth— Koda wasn’t a small man, not by a long shot. But here he was, beneath her hips and utterly ensnared in her bonds. There was something about it that sent a thrill through her, a little tingle that built beneath her skin like television snow and wormed its way into her belly.

Control. That was the key. A man like him, the kind that could throw her over his shoulder and haul her off like she was nothing but a toy… all laid out for her. All hers.

She must have been sitting there a little too long without saying anything, because she could see the way his head moved. An instinctual search, almost a nervous gesture as he tried to look up at her by reflex.

“Shh,” she said, reassuring him as she ran her hands up his belly. Leaned in. “I’m just admiring a sculpture.”

“I’m not sure that’s what I’d call it,” he said, though not without a smile.

“Did I say you could disagree with me?” She curled her claws, just enough to tease the finer points along his skin.

She heard his breath hitch, felt the squirm and the shiver that ran through him. His voice was quicker. “No, Ma’am.”

God, just to have him like this… It activated that little bit in her head that came from a day when prey and predator had to fight to survive, a drive wired into her that settled next to hunger in her belly. Not the same, but married.

Koda could feel it too, the quiet tension in how Ayla’s thighs pinched along his waist where she straddled him. Here was an energy there, something in the way the muscle squeezed. It pulled a kind of nervousness into his belly, the kind that went beyond unpleasant and into something… more. Like how when you were a teenager trying beer for the first time, wrinkling up your nose at the taste. Yet the more you tried it, the more you pushed past the discomfort, the bitterness your body wanted you to feel, the more you discovered a kind of craving.

That was what simmered beneath as Ayla’s teased him, her finger teasing a circle between his pecs. Like alcohol boiling off a well-cooked dish, those fears and nerves began to pull apart, evaporate with every push and pull of Ayla’s hands. She kneaded at his front, pressed her hands into the muscle of his chest, worked out the knots that had settled there beneath the skin.

It was the kind of thing he could melt into, the easy rhythm of her hands. With the cloth around his eyes, there was nothing in the world except for the heat of her body and the gentle sound of the bedsheets rustling with each push and pull of their bodies, however slight. The feeling of her fingertips against his skin became his world, just the same as the slow rock of her hips stirred that world into a new sensation all together.

There was no hiding where she’d sat herself, not as the softness of her hips cushioned his sheath as though they’d been built just to tease him. If it wasn’t for the lace around his wrists, his hands would already be on her, his claws already dimpling her ass as he forced her to sit lower, sit heavier, give him more than just the teasing pressure they did.

Instead, he heard her laugh as he grumbled out a sound by instinct. He flicked an ear in annoyance, but that didn’t stop her, only made the feeling worse as he tried to grind up against her only for Ayla to lift her hips to match.

“Ah-ah, you don’t set the pace here, honey. You’re the one on your back tonight.” She leaned in so that he could feel her breath on his ear, low enough that he could hear the rumble in her voice like thunder past the hills.

“Yes, dear,” his voice was tight. With how she curled her claws, enough that he felt their points and nothing more, there was no helping the shiver that rolled through him.

That was how she continued, letting her lips trail down along the base of his jaw as she kissed and nibbled. Maybe he should have tried to hide how it got him, how he squirmed against the binds and huffed out those softer sounds, but he didn’t. Instead, he let her see just how she made him feel, gave her the orchestra she wanted as she played his body like an instrument. Just the feeling of her teeth against his skin was enough to send sparks through him, little pink tingles blossoming from every nip like the rosettes in his fur. That alone would have been enough to crack his walls, her hands rolling away the tension with every push, but her hips ground into his, worked the soft and eager heat of her body into his.

And there was no denying how he craved her, how he hungered to feel her wrapped around him. Her thighs were soft as milk and twice as warm, each hugging him with a different kind of heat burning between. She worked herself in a slow and eager push, the kind that swayed side from side just to let his length nestle deeper between, using fur and flesh to finally tease a moan from his lips.

She laughed. Soft. Breathless.

“Don’t hide it,” she said, the words tucked beneath his chin, not stopping her motion for a moment. “I want to hear you melt, pet.”

And if he’d already let his pleasure slip once, what was the point in trying to lock it all away now? He was swelling out of his sheath now, his cock spilling free with every beat of his heart, a beat he couldn’t control as she stoked the need he felt in his gut. Every breath, every touch, every grind was so expertly placed that he was like a violin in the hands of a master. He sung for her in the language of desire, a groan trembling on his lip as he closed his eyes tight behind the mask.

“That’s it,” she cooed, kissing just above his collarbone. “Good boys get treats, and I haven’t had a better toy.”

Her hand slipped down, leaving a trail through the fur of his chest. Everything in him longed to grab for her wrist, take her by the arm and flip her, push her into the sheets, but the coils of red around his own kept him from moving more than an inch. And so he could only arch his back as she teased her claws through the fur of his groin, left tingles in the wake of her claws as that selfsame hunger boiled over, hissed like steam in a kettle.

He wanted it. He wanted her.

And Ayla knew it, he could all but feel the smile on her face. “Please,” he panted, the only semblance of restraint in his body cracked beyond recognition.

“Please what, pet?” She asked, the words tight with forced innocence.

“Please touch me, Ma’am. I’ve been… God, I’ve been good.” His nails dug into his palm, poking holes in the lace trapped between his fingers and the lines of his hands.

“Have you?” Ayla sat back, her fingers so irritatingly close to his cock. “I didn’t know that was for pets to decide.”

Koda grit his teeth, but didn’t say anything. Anything more would just put him in hotter water, and he knew she’d take every excuse to draw this out. There was satisfaction in her voice, the kind that came from watching every little bit of control bleed out of him. He knew it was gone too. The moment that she’d tied the ropes, the moment that she’d gotten him to admit he needed this… He was firmly in her court now.

And all the while her finger teased a slow loop around his length, a perfect outline of disturbed fur that had him straining, grunting as he fought and lost the battle to jerk his hips. It was desperate, he knew, but how could he hold himself back now? It was as though the skin along his length was burning in a way that had nothing to do with heat, an itch that went six miles deep. Pre beaded along the tip of his cock, but it only dripped into the fur of his crotch as she avoided him, kept his length from so much as kissing her fingers.

“Please, Ma’am,” the words didn’t get easier, not with her claws leaving tingling trails over his skin. “Please, my owner just… said I was good. Said I was… her best toy.”

“There it is,” Ayla cooed above him, “your owner decides everything about you.”

If he wanted to protest, the words evaporated as she curled her hand around his cock. It was like pushing into velvet, like his length had been wrapped in a toy tighter than any silicone, warmer than any sex toy. Koda groaned despite himself, tilting his head to the side, his back arched as he tried to buck his hips by instinct alone.

That got a laugh. “Aww, is my pet pent-up? Wanna fuck my fist, needy as a mutt?”

That drew heat to his face, but he couldn’t deny the urge simmering in him. It was as if she’d tapped into something waiting in his bones, lingering whip-tight in the meat of his body. With the cloth wrapped around his eyes, it felt as though every nerve in his cock was alight, each centimeter of flesh brought to a new height.

He could feel every strand of fur, each pad of her paw in a detail he never thought possible. The wrinkles where her fingers folded, the little rasp of each whorl and print, all of it spread across his length in decadent detail. That’s what had his toes curled, had him pulling at the lace cuffs til he heard the wood of the head board creak. Just the fact that he knew Ayla was smiling down at him, grinning over all this, it coaxed fresh pre from his cock just to slick her palm and lubricate her for the next tease.

Not that she needed the help. His tail flicked between his thighs, the length of fur and fluff as wide as a bat. It was the only part of him that hadn’t been bound down, the only part of his body that could show the true extent of his need. It curled into the air, lashed as he drew his legs up as much as he could.

To Ayla, it was adorable. She could see how his jaw tensed, his teeth grit together as every stroke forced him to squirm and huff and strain. Every part of his body responded to the slide of her palm, just sliding back to let one fingertip tease from base to tip enough to get something between a grimace and a moan. It was rare to see him this hungry, this wanting, and she revelled in every moment of it.

“Please…” It was all Koda could think to say. “Please, Ayla, I… want you bad. I want you worse than anything.” He’d never been a poet, not like her, but the words were raw with craving. There wasn’t a lie in his voice, not as every throb of his shaft left him lurching against her palm.

“I know, honey, and I’m making up for lost time. I want this little guy to never forget again how bad he needs me.” He knew she was a wolf, but for a moment he swore he could hear something vulpine in his voice, a foxish grin that sent a shiver weaving between his vertebrae as it rolled up his spine.

Yet she was true to her word. Even as she edged him, forced his cock to bounce and bob with each beat of his heart, her other hand slipped up his thigh. Clawtips teased that sensitive flesh, a trail of tingles racing like icemelt down his leg. It wasn’t an empty tease this time though, not as her hand wrapped around his balls and squeezed.

For anyone else, it would have been risky— a touch like that could ruin the moment if she pulled her fist too tight. But Ayla wasn’t oblivious to her mate, and the two had been together long enough that she knew just how to please him. Her middle and pointer finger teased a slow circle along the back of his balls, the other two keeping that gentle and easy pressure even as her clawtips just barely kissed his taint.

It was a mosaic of pleasure, every languid movement a tile arranged to build a collage of delight.

“Gnnh…” The bed groaned with him as he arched his back, the strength of a builder held in place only by the grace of the lace that cuffed him. It was a miracle that part of the headboard didn’t snap free, or maybe it was just his own taste in hardwood helping to keep him imprisoned in his mate’s grasp.

Her touch was more than he’d be able to bare for long, though. Not with every button she was pushing.

“Ayla— Ma’am…” He tried to keep up the titles, but every slip of her hand pulled her deeper into the bliss of her palm. It was like a riptide, a current of touch as soft as feathers and deep as the black of the blindfold. He was lost in that world, that pulsing ebb and flow. “I’m gonna… I… Please, can I… Can I cum?”

It brought heat to his cheeks as he panted for his breath, nearly spit through his teeth as he fought to keep from spilling over the edge so quick, but he knew she’d never let him if he didn’t beg.

The smile in her voice told him exactly that. “Well, you have been a good pet…” He felt the heaviness of her head as she lay it on his thigh, the bed curling as she lay herself between his own just to watch that cock rise and fall with each pump of her hand.

Rising. Falling. Rising again. It was a torture that left him moaning as she considered his fate. It stretched eons, but she pushed that smile of hers against his leg and brushed a kiss through his fur.

“Cum, pet.” Her voice was soft. “Cum for me.”

That was more than he could resist. And why would he? He hardly needed a gilded invitation to finally reach out and seize that current of pleasure his body was so keen to sweep him into. No, her fingers slid quicker along the pre-slick skin of his length, a gasp punching the air as he tried to drive his hips into her palm!

His balls clenched tight, massaged onwards by the slow, circling fingers that encased him, pressing him over the edge! His cock swelled in her hand, lurched once, twice, then—

“Nnnnhg!” Rope after rope of pearly canine spunk splattered over his belly, Ayla pointing his length away from her own face with a grin he felt in his fur. Each rope crossed out a rosette, painted itself in the blue-grey of his fur and soaked in there. Stained. A marker of Ayla’s skill, and a marker of his submission. His need. His craving for his mate.

That’s how she left him for a long, long moment: panting in the warm and intimate dark of her control, his body bound to the bed and his vision stolen away by the cloth she’d wrapped around his head. It was a sensual thing, a vulnerability that wrapped him like a blanket. To have someone take you between their hands and own you, hold you there and hold you there safely… it was a comfort that he’d never found a rival to.

Slowly, Ayla shifted. He didn’t know how long she’d waited there, his cock softening in her hand. Only that she trailed kisses along his thigh to plant a gentle brush of her lips against his balls, just enough to steal a soft sound from his lips. Then, she was beside him.

Her hands found the tie of the blindfold, and carefully pulled the cloth free with the caress of satin against fur.

“How’s my pet feeling?” She asked, the blue of her eyes soft against her smile. It was the first thing he saw out of the dark. The first thing he wanted to see.

“Like I’m floating,” he said, hardly trying to hide the quiet contentment he felt. “You’re divine, you know that?”

She tapped his nose lightly. “Oh, I’m aware. But…”

Ayla’s hand slipped down his chest, settling in the middle as her claws poked in just a little. “This divinity hasn’t yet had her devotion repaid.” She gave her hips a soft sway against the bed, and he could see the wetness there. It wasn’t hard to smell her need, not as that canine scent teased at his nose. “Does my pet have it in him for a second round?”