Talia Hibbert

Maybe every single atom in his body imploded, re-formed, and exploded at the sight of that smile. Maybe. But he tried to keep that to himself.

He sighed, paid, picked up his tray and left her alone. According to his research, human women didn’t like being harassed 24/7. He still wasn’t 100% clear on how not to do that, but he was trying his best

“Let’s not talk about me,” she said finally. “Like I said, I have questions for you. Can we go back to your place?”

He gave her a considering look, mischief dancing over the sharp lines of his face. “Maybe I don’t want to be alone with you anymore. You did try to kill me, you know.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m starting to think that I may have been out of order, there.”

“Oh, shit, really? You know what? Me too.”

She rolled her eyes in the face of his sarcasm. “Get over it.”

“I can’t. It haunts me. I might be scarred for life. In fact, I don’t believe I can think straight around you. The fear is just too strong.”

“Fuck off, then,” she huffed, defensive even though she knew he was teasing. Knowing didn’t stop her from drowning in guilt. Call her naïve, but she really hadn’t expected hunting to be so emotionally fraught.

The ghost of a smile flashed over her face, so fast he almost missed it. Then, like a student recapping a lesson, she said, “So, what you’re telling me is… There are two kinds of Werewolves, and you’re currently the not-so-evil kind. Which is why you aren’t sociopathic in human form and completely unable to control yourself otherwise, and led by bloodlust and addicted to human flesh and—”

“Yes,” he cut in.

“Well.” She glared at him as if he’d just ripped off his skin to reveal that he’d been a micropig all along. “You could’ve said something.”

“Chastity… You stabbed me. In the chest.”

“Which would’ve been the perfect time to say something.”

“Forgive me for being somewhat distracted,” he snorted. “I think this is done, by the way.”

There’s great value in the things that bring you joy.”

No pulling the parental punches today, then.

She tried to process, to find the right words to explain herself—but the conversation was already racing off without her, a runaway train she’d never been fast enough to catch.

Asking,” he whispered, “is hard. Taking is easy. Doing is easy. But asking for what you want… asking is showing someone everything, and trusting they won’t use it against you. Asking is about feeling safe.”

“Don’t ask questions when you have no intention of listening to the answer.”