Stray.

It's embarrassing to say the word was stuck in my head even though four days had passed since I last saw Vander. I hated it just as much as I hated him.

Okay, maybe that was a stretch. I didn't hate Vander; he just...annoyed me. I didn't know how else to put it. I liked to understand things-understand people-and he was an enigma to say the least.

He said little, stared too much, and had this maddening way of making silence feel like a conversation I wasn't winning.

I didn't trust him. I wasn't sure I even liked him. But somehow, he'd taken root in my brain. Like a song I couldn't shake, playing on loop every time I had a quiet moment to myself.

Stray.

The word hadn't been cruel, not exactly. But it had hit something in me I didn't like acknowledging. It made me feel vulnerable, and if I had learned anything, it was that being vulnerable was just asking for trouble.

No one had ever called me that before. Not out loud. Not in a way that sounded so...knowing.

And maybe that's what bothered me most-he wasn't wrong.

I was a stray, in more ways than one.

"I'm going to see Vander," I announced to nobody in particular.

Both my mates were half asleep on the couch, likely regretting their choice of staying up with me for so long last night. Archer was sprawled across one end, an arm tossed lazily over his face to block the light creeping through the curtains. Boston was curled into the opposite corner like a grumpy cat, blanket wrapped around him like a burrito. Neither responded right away, though Boston made a vague noise of acknowledgment that could've meant okay, don't die, or bring me back a snack.

I grabbed my jacket off the hook by the door and slid it on, letting the fabric settle over my shoulders like armor. I didn't expect them to stop me-would've been more surprised if they had. Archer had been giving me space lately, trying not to crowd me even though I knew every inch of him wanted to. Boston had this way of pretending he wasn't watching when he absolutely was, so I didn't doubt he heard me. He just didn't ask questions unless I invited them.

I was grateful for that.

Still, just as I opened the front door, Archer stirred.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

"You're five minutes away from falling into a coma," I replied, glancing back at him over my shoulder. "It's fine. I won't be long."

His hand fell away from his face, and I caught the way his brow furrowed, even through the haze of exhaustion. "You sure?"

"Yeah," I said, softer now. "I...need to get something out of my head."

"If you're gone for too long I'm coming to find you."

I just shook my head. I didn't doubt his words in the slightest, but it also wouldn't have surprised me if I returned to find him still sleeping like the dead.

The air outside was crisp enough to sting, but I welcomed it. The cold had a way of stripping everything down to the bone-no distractions. Just breath, and movement, and the sound of gravel crunching under my boots as I headed for the treeline.

The path to Vander's place wasn't marked, not really. But I trusted Archer's directions enough to make the trip and in the worst-case scenario, Vander would find me before I found him if our last two encounters were anything to go by.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting from visiting, but I still felt like I needed to if not for anything besides my own curiosity. I didn't remember an extreme amount about living with my mother, but she hadn't told me much about vampires when I lived with her. It was practically a taboo topic in our household despite her being one herself, so in a way, Vander was an opportunity to learn more about myself.

The closer I got, the more aware I became of him.

It wasn't like with werewolves where you could catch their scent in the air before you saw them...it was more of a feeling. Like, I could almost sense that I wasn't alone anymore.

I slowed my steps.

A rather large home. came into view between the trees-dark wood, low roof, lights off. It didn't look abandoned, but it didn't look inviting either. No sound. Just...there. Like it had grown out of the forest instead of being built in it.

Figures.

I stopped a few feet away, hands shoved into my jacket pockets, suddenly aware of how stupid this was. I hadn't planned what I was going to say. I hadn't even decided whether I wanted him to be here.

"Real smooth," I muttered to myself.

Before I could overthink it any further, I stepped up onto the small porch and knocked.

Once.

Twice.

Nothing.

I waited, jaw tight, then exhaled through my nose. "Of course," I said quietly. "Because why would this be easy?"

I turned to leave-and froze.

The metallic scent hit me first. Stronger than before. Closer.

"Knocking's unnecessary," Vander's voice came from behind me. "I knew you were coming."

I spun around, heart jumping into my throat. He stood a few yards away at the edge of the trees, arms crossed, expression as unreadable as ever. No footsteps. No warning. Just there.

"Do you enjoy doing that?" I snapped. "Or is it, like, a vampire hobby?"

His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "You walked loudly on purpose. You wanted me to hear you."

That threw me off enough that I hesitated. "I-what?"

"You could've masked your steps," he continued, eyes flicking down to my boots, then back up to my face. "You didn't."

I bristled. "Maybe I didn't care."

"Maybe," he said mildly. "What do you want, Stray?"

There it was again.

My jaw clenched. "Don't call me that."

He tilted his head, studying me. "Werewolves are always so touchy."

I scowled and opened my mouth-maybe to tell him to fuck off, to go to hell, or something else entirely. I wasn't sure, but it didn't matter because not even a second later, the front door to his house was pulled open and a wolf stepped out.

He was a brunet-haired man with pale skin and dark green eyes that were squinted almost as if he'd just woken up. He glanced at me, then at Vander, then frowned.

"Van, who's this?" The guy asked.

That was my question.

Perhaps I should've taken more time to learn the pack members' names, because I was struggling now. It was different coming from a significantly smaller pack where everyone knew everyone since birth.

"One of Archer's mates," Vander said as if that explained everything.

"Oh!" The guy's eyes widened and he offered me a smile before extending a hand. "I'm Emil. It's nice to meet you!"

I blinked, staring at his hand for a few minutes before taking it. "Reo."

I glanced between the two of them because...honestly, I was confused.

Seeming to notice this, Emil added, "Vander is my mate."

Mate?

...they were mates?

"Don't act too surprised now," Vander said dryly.

Honestly, Vander having a mate did make sense as to why he was in the pack in the first place. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but considering he was a vampire, I guess I'd half-expected him to live like one.

Alone.

Detached.

Instead, a wolf was standing in his doorway looking at him like he hung the damn moon.

"Oh," I said intelligently.

"Van's not exactly a social butterfly, but he's harmless," Emil finished, nudging Vander's arm. "Mostly."

Vander scoffed, but Emil just smiled at him.

"What did you want?" Vander turned his attention back to me.

I hesitated.

That was the problem-I didn't actually know.

I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets.

"I had a question," I said finally.

Vander's eyes sharpened slightly. "About?"

"Vampires."

Vander and Emil shared a look before refocusing on me.

Emil shot me another smile and said, "I'm going to head to the pack house." He turned to his mate. "Don't be rude."

The second Emil was out of earshot, Vander glanced at me again.

"You're here to ask about vampires?" He repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't make it sound like I said something stupid." I scowled.

"It is a stupid question. You are one-you lived with one I imagine," he muttered.

"I grew up in a werewolf pack, smartass." I glared.

That seemed to catch his attention. "You've never met another vampire?"

"No."

I didn't have a ton of memories of my mother, but the ones I did remember were usually tied to her feelings about what she was-what we were. I couldn't tell you basic things like what her favorite color was, but I could tell you without a doubt that she loathed vampires.

Vander's gaze dragged over me again, more clinical this time.

"That explains it," he murmured.

"Explains what?" I snapped.

"The instability."

My eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"You reek of conflict," he said plainly. "Your instincts fight each other. Your body doesn't know what it is."

I wasn't sure why those words bothered me so much, but my gaze sharpened and I shook my head. "My body knows exactly what it is."

"Does it?" His eyes flicked to my mouth for half a second. "Because the last time I saw you, you were seconds from losing control."

I...couldn't really deny that. My jaw tightened, my hands balling into fists in my pockets. I didn't want to admit it aloud, and I wasn't about to. "That was...a mistake," I muttered.

Vander just tilted his head again, studying me like I was a puzzle, and said, "Mistakes are usually what teach you the most."

"Spare me the lecture. I don't need it," I muttered.

"Maybe not," Vander replied, stepping a fraction closer. "But you do need control. I imagine that wasn't the first time you came close to losing it, was it?"

I didn't respond which, honestly, was an answer within itself and the bastard knew it. He stared at me for a long second before sighing. And the next words that left his mouth had me questioning if I heard him properly:

"Would you like to learn how to truly control yourself?"