Amir, in the hall above the stairs, listened to his patient, Charlie, and Charlie’s mate, Luis, arguing quietly. He could barely hear them, but the stress in their voices came through clearly. Charlie had requested everyone involved in his recovery call him by his nickname rather than his title, Tilthos Charles, because hearing his title had been causing him psychic and perhaps physical pain. Whoever was in his mind, they were exercising terrible control over his body if they could create such a horrific symptom.

Amir had been driven up here to protect his charge by the scent of an unfamiliar werewolf. That smell had been lodged in his brain while he slept. He’d changed to his four-footed guise after washing the welcome but surely unprofessional aroma of Oliver’s and his own enjoyment off his skin. His hope had been to better understand the stench of a vaguely familiar someone. Instead, his wolf form hadn’t increased his ability to detect the unknown person. Still, he’d felt safer in his werewolf form and not wanting to wake Oliver, had come up here to check on Charlie and Luis.

They continued to argue, Luis closer to the door by the sound of his voice.

He heard something on the stairs and rose to his feet, his teeth bared but his snarl silent.

There was a brief silence and then he sensed rather than heard someone just out of sight, maybe on the landing. He growled, low and menacingly, not wanting to disturb Charlie and Luis but needing to warn off whoever was coming. It seemed unlikely it would be Oliver. This was the other werewolf’s house, after all. Why would he go creeping around it at night?

Despite his best intentions, his growl must have penetrated the door because the barrier at his back was yanked open and Charlie demanded, “Who’s there?”

Oliver stepped into view. “It’s only –” he began.

Luis spoke a curse. It had to be a swear word with all the fury he put behind it. He’d spoken in a Romance language, either Spanish or Portuguese. Amir had never been able to tell those two apart with any reliability.

Worried the situation would devolve because Charlie had sounded panicked rather than authoritative when he’d asked his question, Amir shifted back to human seeming. Now on all fours on the floor, he looked up at Charlie and said softly, “It’s Oliver and Amir. I came up because I smelled something, and…” He wanted to bite his tongue until it bled. Why had he increased the tension of the moment? He hurried on. “Would either of you like some cinnamon tea?”

Oliver had stepped into a handy patch of moonlight, holding his arms away from his body. He was only partially dressed. He looked rumpled and adorable. Amir felt himself blush.