Page 39 of The Patron Saint of Timber Hollow

"So what movie are we watching, Cinnamon?"

"Ratatouille." Saint deadpans.

I choke on a laugh. "W-what?" He can't be serious.

"The rat who cooks? You know what I'm talking about, right, Tiny?"

"Yes, I'm familiar. I just didn't realize you considered a children's animated film aclassic.Is that okay, Cinnamon?" I fire back, grinning at him.

"Sure, ready?" Saint asks, waggling his eyebrows and pointing the remote at the TV.

"Go for it."

He smiles, pressing play on the remote, tucking his legs under the covers with mine. His skin is warm against my bare toes. Rain still tinkles against the window panes high up in the peaks, drumming against the roof. It's a quiet, peaceful backdrop for Saint's movie. I've seen it, of course, but not for a long while.

I don't know what makes me ask, but the words come tumbling out anyway. "How long have you lived in the Hollow, Saint?"

"Almost six years."

"Where were you before then?"

Saint swallows audibly before answering. "My Alpha kicked me out on my eighteenth birthday. Jay and I became friends a year or two later after that when he was in the Rockies one summer."

Jay was in the Rockies?My wolf's golden eyes crack open, her claws clicking against my skull.

"So you were alone?"

"Yeah. And I don't know how you did it for as long as you did. You never joined a pack?"

"No. Nowhere felt like home." I shrug, curling my legs under me. "Why didn't you join?"

"Wasn't for lack of trying, Tiny. No one wanted a wolf like me."

"Sounds pretty dumb, if you ask me."

Saint shrugs this time. "I can't blame them anymore. Adding a new dominant male who hasn't been in the chain of command for a few years could be disastrous for many packs. I grew up thinking my father was the Alpha andIwould be the next."

"Jay doesn't care, though."

"No, he doesn't. He's my brother in all ways except blood."

"Hmm." I murmur back, staringthroughthe TV screen before I ask, "So, you're from the Rockies?"

"Sort of. The tail end of them anyway."

I snort. "What does that mean?"

"Wyoming," Saint snarks, making an arc in the air with his hand.

I laugh, suddenly relieved. I'd been in Montana during my Rocky Mountain…excursion."Soundsmagical," I gush, looking up at him. And then my breath gets caught in my throat.

Saint is staring at me, green eyes bouncing between my eyes and mouth. My heart is jumping in my chest, and I want this—I wanthimto kiss me. I catch my bottom lip between my teeth, gnawing on it slightly. I have Jay, and part of me wonders if he would even care after last night.

But… Fuck, I want Saint to kiss me anyway. I wanthimto cross that boundary.

Saint doesn't, though; he merely pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. But I make my decision. Fuck it. I'll ask for forgiveness later.

With trembling fingers, I rise to my knees, tilt Sain't face back, and kiss him. Deep and thoroughly. Settling across his lap, Saint's hands trail up my thighs, gripping my hips as he meets the kiss, tongue dancing with mine. I moan softly in his mouth when he threads his fingers through my hair, the other arm banding around my ribs.