Luckily, somehow our clothes have survived the last twenty-four hours.
Bird scrunches his nose in disappointment at the dismantling of his nest but doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he pushes himself up as well. He picks up my pants, taking a deep, final sniff of their scent, before laughing and hurling them at me.
I catch them before they can hit me in the face. “Bad luck. I have good reflexes.”
“I’ll have my revenge.”
I bare my canines.
I like this game. I’ve never played with anyone like this, even when I was kid.
But Bird still won’t win.
“Bring it on,” I challenge.
“You won’t know what’s hit you. But it will be in your face.”
“Are you sure that you’re not talking about yourself?” I reply, airily.
Then I grab Bird’s pants with the speed of both an assassin and magician and hurl them at him.
They hit him squarely in the face.
Bird’s dazed look is priceless when the pants slide into his lap.
“Point to me,” I announce.
“Stealth attack.” Bird wags his finger at me, pulling on his pants. Then he dives and kisses me, taking me by surprise. “I can do those too.”
My expression gentles, as I stroke his cheek. “I wish that I had a bonding gift for you. Aren’t I meant to present you with one? My brother writes these romance books, and his heroes are always thinking up soppy things to give like some special heirloom their dying mom left them.”
“Do you have a dying mom?”
I shake my head.
“A special heirloom?”
I shake my head again.
He shrugs. “Then you’re my gift.”
“Pfft, you’re mine.”
“A gift exchange. I like it.” Bird pulls on his top, and I regret that I can no longer see his gorgeous skin.
I follow his example, sliding on my top. We reach to button up each other’s shirts like that is an exchange too.
It is surprisingly intimate.
I had to learn to do up my own clothes, well, for as long as I can remember.
I didn’t have parents to help me with mine, in the way that I remember Nico buttoning Mars’ shirts, or Fiorella fussing with the fastenings on Gianna’s dresses when they were both kids.
“So, is your brother an author?” Bird asks. “Would I have read anything by him?”
“Not unless you’re a hacker. He’s a secret writer. Our Chief Alpha would kill him for publishing romances. She’d believe that it shamed our pack.”