Chapter 1

DANE

Wren started coming by the Amber Tap three months ago, asking to work for food.

That first night she was soaked to the bone, hiding her hands in the pockets of her tattered jeans, big green eyes making her look half-starved and half-feral at once.

I let her haul out the trash for a burger.

She was so scrawny it took her half an hour to do a ten-minute job, then she wolfed the burger down like someone might steal it.

After that, she came at least once a week. We both knew I didn't need the help.

We played the game anyway.

Tonight was different.

She'd finished eating two hours ago and was still hunched at the end of the bar, sipping water, eyes down, keeping her distance from the other patrons.

It was early December, below ten degrees outside, snow coming.

I figured she just wanted to stay warm a little longer before heading to the shelter — the one with the shitty reputation.

When the pub emptied, my weekend chef Tara found her still there.

Tara was a good cook but a bit of a drama queen, always quick to think the worst of people, and she barked at Wren to get out.

I told her to go home instead. She threw Wren one last dirty look on her way out.

"I really need to close," I said once we were alone. "But you can stay a couple more hours."

She didn't move. Her shoulders were tight as wire.

"Hey, kid." I touched her shoulder and she flinched away. "Are you okay?"

"I can't go to the shelter, Dane."

A whiff of her scent hit me as her scarf slipped.

Well, shit. Wasn't she too young to be presenting already?

"How close are you?"

"I don't know. My friend Milo says two to five days. She was supposed to find me somewhere to stay."

"She never came back." She swallowed. "I was cold, so I came here."

The forecast was near zero for two weeks straight. She needed somewhere to ride out a ten-day heat.

She needed someone to take care of her.

"Why can't you go to the shelter?"

Her eyes came up, glassy with exhaustion.

"They'll either smell me and turn me away, or they'll let me in and take me to the guards' break room."

"Depends which bouncers are working."

"Some of them get paid." She stared at her hands, clenching and unclenching in her lap. "Rares are rare."

"People pay a lot for us."

"The pretty ones get bought by some Prime, stay in his house, get treated fine. Sometimes there's a pimp instead."

"He takes you to a club. They sell the heat one knotting at a time."

I squeezed my eyes shut. Ten days of forced knotting by strangers. Of course she'd run.

"How old are you, Wren?"

"Nineteen."

Nineteen. Could a hospital take her in? She wouldn't have insurance.

It was Sunday night — nothing would be open, and nothing would guarantee she didn't end up at a club anyway.

"Dane?" She looked up at me, too innocent for what she said next. "You're not married, right?"

"Will you let me stay with you? I don't want money. Just food."

"You can knot me as much as you want."

The words hit me like a fist. I couldn't answer. Her chin started to wobble.

"I'm a virgin. I swear. I've sucked cock for food, but nobody's ever fucked me."

"I got away the two times someone tried." Tears welled. "A virgin in heat — that's good, right?"

"Please, just let me stay."

She started unbuttoning her shirt with shaking hands, and I stood there, mute.

"I'm small, but some guys like it. If you let me bathe first, I'll please you, Dane, I will."

"I know I look like shit."

"I'll clean up, and if I can sleep a little first, you can do whatever you want with me after."

"I'll suck you. I'm good at that."

"Guys say I'm mouthy, but I can be quiet, I swear." She was rambling now, tears cutting through the dirt on her cheeks.

"I know I'm not pretty like some girls, but I'll do whatever you want."

My throat felt full of stone.

"You can stay here tonight, Wren." Fear flickered in her eyes — she knew what a six-and-a-half-foot, scarred stranger could do with an offer like that.

"I'm not going to fuck you, okay? Tomorrow we'll figure out what we're doing."

"You're not...?"

"No. I won't use you like that."

I led her upstairs to my apartment above the pub — three rooms, a kitchen I'd never bothered to make into anything, a spare room full of old inventory boxes and a bed I'd never used.

Her eyes cataloged every exit as we walked, the way I guessed she did in every room she'd ever been in.

"Spare room's this way."

"Bathroom's here." I handed her a towel and dug up a T-shirt and sweatpants small enough they might not swallow her whole.

When I set them on the shelf by the sink, my elbow knocked the aftershave over.

The clatter made her jump like I'd hit her, and she immediately started unbuttoning her pants.

"I said I'm not going to fuck you."

She bit her lip, blinking back more tears.

"I have a spare room. Bed's shit, but it's clean and warm. We'll talk tomorrow. You're safe here."

She nodded without meeting my eyes.

I wanted to tell her she could lock the door, wedge a chair under the handle, whatever would let her actually sleep instead of lying there waiting for morning like it owed her something.

I kept my mouth shut and let her shower instead.

I made up the spare bed while the water ran, left a glass of water on the nightstand, and got out before she came out half-dressed — because standing around for that felt like exactly the kind of thing that would prove every fear she had about me right.

In the hallway alone, the faint scent of her coming heat still hung in the air.

When was the last time I'd knotted a Rare? A decade, maybe more.

Most Primes went their whole lives without catching a scent like this.

And here she was, offering it to me for nothing.

I could just take it.

And then I'd have to live with myself for the rest of my life.

* * *

I didn't even stop for coffee the next morning.

I walked straight to the pharmacy five blocks away and bought two dildos, a few plugs, and an artificial knot that inflated to three sizes and pulsed on the highest setting — enough to get her through five days without me anywhere near her.

"It's her first heat," I told the clerk. "Nineteen. Small."

I didn't ask if he had kids.

It wasn't his business, and it wouldn't have made either of us feel better.

Wren was up when I got back, hair wet, swimming in my T-shirt, holding the sweatpants up with one fist so they wouldn't fall.

She looked calmer in daylight. Steadier.

"I brought you this." I handed her the bag. She peered inside like it might bite her.

"You bought all this for me?"

"You'll need it. Or you'll be in pain."

"I can't pay you back."

"Take it, Wren." I laid out the rules — spare room until the heat passed, share the bathroom, I'd bring food from downstairs.

"Tara doesn't know you're here, and I'm not planning on telling her or anyone else on staff."

"That's between us." I figured she'd rather it stay that way after last night.

She clutched the bag to her chest, chin wobbling. "Thank you."

Then her scent reached me properly for the first time — thick and sweet, filling the kitchen air.

I kept my breathing shallow and my voice on autopilot.

"Your scent's getting stronger. Don't go anywhere alone, okay?"

"I'll stay here."

"Good. There's coffee on the counter."

"I need to get downstairs." I turned for the door, and her voice stopped me before I made it through.

"Dane?"

"Yeah?"

"What do I do with all this?" She was still holding the bag against her chest like it might dissolve if she let go, staring down into it like she didn't recognize a single thing inside.

I didn't have a good answer for that.

"You'll figure it out," I said, and left her standing there alone with it.