He stood only inches from me, his arm outstretched, fingers gripping my arm. A bottle of beer sloshed in his other hand, foam bubbling over the lip. He let go once I’d regained my balance, giving me a sideways smile that revealed a single dimple in his cheek.

He was ruggedly handsome—tanned skin, unruly brown curls tucked behind his ears. He was tall, towering easily over my 5'8" frame. I felt hot—too hot—as I looked up at him, my tongue running along the inside of my lower lip.

“Uh, thanks,” I croaked, slightly taken aback.

He nodded, his eyes scanning my face before meeting mine.

One eye was icy glacier blue. The other, steel gray. I couldn't help but stare.

“Take a picture,” he said, voice lifted, playful.

“What?”

“Take… take a picture. It'll last longer,” he stammered, his cheeks going a rosy pink as he grinned, boyish and sheepish all at once.

I blinked at him, then shook my head. “Are you serious? That’s the cheesiest—”

“Couldn't help myself,” he breathed, eyes still locked on mine. “Been waiting for an opportunity to say that all day.”

I opened my mouth, closed it again, biting back a laugh rising in my throat. A beat of silence passed—just long enough to realize we were still standing on the sidewalk, staring at each other.

“You’re rather tall for a lady,” he said seriously, taking a small sip of his beer.

“I—what?”

“I SAID YOU’RE RATHER TALL FOR A—” he bellowed, leaning in like I couldn’t hear.

“I heard you the first time!” I interrupted, finally laughing. “What’s wrong with you? Thank you for, um, stopping me from falling, but… did you hit your head or something?”

“Why do you ask?” he asked innocently, sipping his beer again, his mouth twitching into a smirk.

I was genuinely speechless.

“Well, nice meeting you,” he said, turning away. I gaped after him as he took a few steps, then turned back, nodding toward the bar. “Want a beer?”

I did want a beer. And I was oddly curious about this strange man and his even stranger behavior. He was teasing me—testing for a reaction. I liked it.

“You’re not going to try to kidnap and murder me, are you?” I asked warily.

He pursed his lips, glancing around at the crowd still gathered from the earlier street fight.

“Well, not anymore. Everyone heard you say that,” he said, dramatically scanning the crowd before nodding again toward the bar. “You coming?”

“I’m actually supposed to be meeting someone.”

“Great, I’ll go with you.”

“Why?” I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t even know who I am or where I’m going.”

“Well, I’ll probably know soon. That counts for something, right?”

Some kind of animal.

“Uh, sure. Fine. Come on,” I said, stepping off the sidewalk. He caught up easily, the beer still in hand. My stomach did a little flip as he reached my side. I had no idea why I thought letting this lunatic follow me through the market was a good idea—but I couldn’t resist.

“Want some?” He offered me the beer as we walked.

I shook my head, smiling. “We don’t know each other, remember? I don’t want your germs, and I doubt you want mine.”

He raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that sent a warm ripple up my spine.

What’s wrong with you, Maeve? I thought, breaking eye contact.

“Did you know that our mouths are cleaner in wolf form than—”

“Stop. I’ve heard that one. It’s not true,” I laughed.

“How do you know?”

“You’re telling me you brush your teeth as a wolf? Maybe even floss?”

He shrugged. “Of course. What do you think I am? Some kind of animal?”

“Well, in a literal sense…”

His mouth widened into a brilliant smile and he laughed, the sound full and genuine. He passed me the beer. This time, I took it, drinking deeply and enjoying the bitter taste.

We stopped in front of Myla’s stall.

It was empty—cleared of her usual goods.

“Oh,” I said, scanning for Myla’s telltale raven-black curls. She was nowhere in sight.

“Weren’t you supposed to be meeting someone?” he asked, looking around.

“This is my friend’s stall,” I said, tapping the empty table. “I guess she’s not here.”

He finished his beer. “Well, what now?”

“I don’t know.” I twisted my hair into a bun. The sun was hot on my skin, sweat prickling along my forehead and neck.

I felt his eyes on me, lingering on the back of my neck. I wanted to look at him the way he looked at me—like I meant something.

“Are you from around here?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, deliberately vague. “What about you? I’ve never seen you around.”

“Just visiting.” He smiled down at me.

“From where?”

“Somewhere with fewer people,” he said as a woman shoved past him. I reached out and pulled him closer to the sidewalk.

“What brings you here?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, glancing around. “Never been to Valoria. Thought I’d check it out. I’ve never even been to a big city before. Wanted to experience the culture, the art—”

As if on cue, a man ahead of us stopped, bent over, and retched loudly into a wastebasket. I snorted as my companion gestured toward the man like he was part of the cultural experience.

“Is it always like this?” he asked, brows raised.

“Not at all,” I laughed. “It’s the Spring Festival. People come from all over. There are at least nine packs in Valenia right now. Drogomor is the biggest. See those fields?” I pointed toward open land in the distance. “Balls are held over there.”

“Balls?” He stopped walking, glancing at me. “As in… dancing?”

“Well… kind of. They’re mostly events for single people.”

“Why just single people?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“They’re not just for single people, I guess,” I shrugged. “But people do meet their mates during these festivals. That’s what I was told. I’ve never been to one. Myla—”

He suddenly turned, walking toward a stall across the street and leaving me standing stupidly alone.

I wiped the sweat from my brow. A bead rolled down my temple and into my eye. I blinked and rubbed it away just as he reappeared with a giant cup of lemonade.

“Why are you so red?” he asked, thrusting it at me.

“I’m a little hot,” I panted, pressing the glass to my forehead. “I don’t do well in the heat.”

“You look awful.”

“Oh, thanks.” I sipped the lemonade, blinking into the blinding sun.

“It’s because you have red hair.”

“That’s why I look awful?”

“No—jeez. You’re just fair. Can we sit down somewhere? Before you pass out?” He didn’t wait for my reply, grabbing my elbow and guiding me into the shade of a nearby awning.

I dropped onto a bench with a sigh of relief.

He didn’t sit. Instead, he reached for my jacket zipper.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” I swatted at his hand, almost spilling the lemonade.

“Getting you out of this jacket?”

“I can do it—”

“Just let me help you—”

He reached again. I caught his hand and dug my nails into his skin.

“Ow! What’s the matter with you?”

“You’re trying to undress me in public!”

He arched an eyebrow, eyes glinting. “You want to go somewhere private?”

“No!”

“Just drink your lemonade and let me help before you get heatstroke.”

I squeezed his hand tighter. He hissed in pain.

“What’s that over there?”

“What—?”

He yanked the zipper down before I could react. Cool air hit my skin. I released his hand with a huff.

He stared at me.

More specifically—at the half-moon scar above my breast.

“It’s not that cool of a story,” I muttered, sliding out of the jacket.

He scanned my bare arms and shoulders, curiosity etched across his face. “What are you, a street fighter?”

I laughed. “No. I just played a little rough as a kid.”

He sat beside me, and I sipped the lemonade again.

“Is this why you kept your jacket on? It’s not that bad.”

I shook my head. “I just forgot. And… you’re a little distracting, honestly.”

He paused, then smiled softly. “It’s because I’m very good-looking.”

“That’s enough.” I laughed, clutching the lemonade to my chest.

We sat in silence, watching the crowds.

“You know,” he said, “your height probably plays a part in why you got so hot. Closer to the sun and all.”

I glared. “Why are you so obsessed with my—”

“Hey!” Myla’s voice broke through the noise. She bounded toward us, curls bouncing.

She stopped short, eyeing me. “Wow. Are you okay? You look terrible.”

“Told you,” the man said, stealing my lemonade for another sip.

“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s just hot.”

“I know! It’s supposed to be like this all week. Hey—who’s your friend?”

“This is—actually, I don’t know his name,” I laughed, looking at him.

“Seriously, Maeve! You finally make another friend and—”

“Maeve?” he said abruptly, standing up. His face changed—confusion, then something like despair.

“Hey, are you alright—?”

“I have to go,” he said, voice sharp and serious. He looked like a completely different person.

He turned away, then hesitated—mouth opening like he was about to say something.

“Wait—” I called.

But he was already gone, swallowed by the crowd.

“What was that all about?” Myla asked, sitting beside me.

“I… have no idea.”