Shilloh held out her fist for a bump, "Raw dog our trauma, and help each other through it, no matter what happens?"

  "Deal," said Wade." No kid gloves at all. We'll just put our fucked up backstories out there and see where it lands."

  "Yes, like Agnes always said, 'No glove for the love.'"

  "Son of a succubus. I don't need to hear another one of her speeches about the empowerment of menopause." Her big, strong Were snorted and released one of those paradigm-shifting smiles that were visible even in the dim lights that filtered through to them from the camp.

  She wanted to see more of that smile, especially since it might be more scarce depending on how this went. "Yell 'raw dog' on three?"

  "What? No!" He pulled his hand back and looked at her like she was insane, and it might be contagious.

  Shilloh laughed a genuine laugh and tried to hold onto that feeling. Tonight was a victory. She had earned herself an unimaginable opportunity; she would be working hand in hand with Godkiller. With that kind of access, she could make their protection of people better for the whole ecosystem. And, more importantly, make an assload of cash doing it.

  So long as she performed well in this probationary incursion, she could have enough money to make a whole village for dryads to live safely in when they were finally released from The Vault.

  Her younger self would be over the moon to see what they had grown up to be. No matter what, that was the thing about tonight that would go into her memoirs. Talks with cute boys about potential romance would not matter to the course of history compared to what this victory had earned her.

  The two of them had just left Godkiller Thresher's tent. They were meandering through the darkness, finally ready to learn about the big parts of Wade's past that were classified, so they could decide if they had a chance to turn this chemistry into a real relationship.

  With the moon overhead, victory in her blood, and the taste of gin still on her tongue, the wobbly feeling of concern and instability in her stomach became even more pronounced.

  Holy shit, she really wanted this to go well. Tonight was a night of victory, right?

  Next to her, Wade was silent and big. Well, big to her. She was short by most measures, though she had enough muscle to make BMIs hate her.

  The two of them probably made quite a picture. He was strong, but so compactly built that it didn’t register. On his own, he wasn’t that threatening at all. Or, at least, she assumed so. A martial artist’s smooth gait and alert eyes did not exactly scream danger compared to the metric fuck-ton of weapons he wore strapped to his body. Her first impression had been overshadowed by the swords, knives, pocket knives, boot knives, bear revolvers, and other shit she didn't bother categorizing.

  And, by now, he was just Wade. Hard to think of Wade the goofy bar-room dancer as scary. Honestly, she spent more time thinking about the study in contrasts they made.

  Where he had common sandy brown hair, gunmetal grey eyes, and a pleasant face, her shade of brunette was sometimes mistaken for black, her eyes were a hazel that people liked to talk about (but didn't actually care about when she got into the interesting genetics behind the hazel phenotype’s expression). Even worse she also had the kind of face that made people think she was a pre-school teacher.

  Also, while she didn’t like carrying around a bunch of firearms, she did envy Wade’s comfy outdoors clothes. Even with them about to have a big talk, she wasn't sure if she was happy or upset about wearing her one laboriously steamed interview outfit for this moment.

  Usually, they looked like a white-collar couple cosplaying as outdoorsmen. Both wore boots and dirty nails almost all the time. Usually, Shillloh liked flannel, whereas Wade was always in some UPF, fast-drying shirt.

  Her hat had gotten lost, or eaten, or forgotten, so she wore her hair down more often. Both for the sun and the chill that had invaded the air as they traveled.

  Thats what she would have been most comfortable in right now. Wade was in worn-in canvas pants and a thick, long-sleeve shirt that didn't interfere with his various harnesses and holsters. She was in a fresh pressed outfit, leather shoes so thin they barely took up space in her bag, and a matching necklace and hair clip.

  With effort, she focused on the afterglow of success and not the incongruity or how it might be an omen.

  It made her itchy, though. All the energy had to go somewhere, so she pushed ahead and led them through the camp to a stand of adolescent trees that reminded her of the ones they had sat under not too long ago.

  Hopefully, that would even out the bad vibes from their mismatched clothes.

  Wade picked up a few twigs and small sticks to fiddle with and handed her some, too.

  "What a gentleman."

  "No, just taking control of what might get thrown at me. These have bad aerodynamics. I can get out of range before you grab something heavier."

  There was an obvious social pressure to smile. She resisted it.

  "Rawdog our trauma, remember? I can't handle small talk and jokes. Especially after an all-day interview and drinks in me."

  "Okay," Wade said, blinking a little and taking breaths that were a bit too even and measured to be anything other than soothing. "Yeah. Let's just jump into it."

  "Hit me with it."

  "Well, first, Frost has never really cared about people dating unless it led to blatant favoritism and was detrimental to everyone. He's a bit of a romantic. Particularly with people on the front line, he thinks having someone to fight for makes them more willing to go all-in. If I were your direct boss, or if there were issues, then, honestly, he still might not care."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Okay," she frowned.

  "I only tell you this so you know that I'm not being pimped out to you because of your power. Also, I would never put your career and dream at risk."

  The light bulb went off, and she nodded. "Okay, that makes a lot more sense. So he wouldn't care if we did decide to date?"

  "Not at all. He's heard all about it and thinks it could be wonderful for us."

  "He has? That's pretty weird."

  Wade shrugged, "It's something that seemed important once I learned about your wild talent."

  "Fair enough."

  "Good, because I've been stressing about it ever since I heard about the super cool wild talent."

  She looked at him, eyes narrowing.

  Wade's teeth gleamed even in the slightly orange lights of the camp. "You know, the awesome power that's nothing like what you told me about when we both said we had no wild talents and shared our dreams about what we would get."

  "AvoidingRawDoggingYourTraumaSayWhat?"

  "What?"

  "Exactly, get on with it. I need to know what all I'll be celebrating when I go back to the tent for my next drink. Obviously, the job, but I wouldn't say no to an excuse for a few more drinks."

  To his credit, Wade didn't linger. No more distractions, just the look of a condemned man steeling himself so he could be executed while still maintaining his dignity.

  "Fair." Gunmetal eyes met her hazel ones, and she reflexively touched the power of nature around them when she felt the electric thrill of all his intense focus pointed directly at her. The reassuring presence of the world that was her and also not her, depending on how you drew those lines, buffered her beating heart.

  "You know my title," he said, "and you know my job."

  "Yeah, I know that you're… made of sterner stuff."

  He nodded once, completely ignoring the joke. "Since I did my own probation with Thresher, I have never lived in any location longer than three to four years. I don't see that changing within the century."

  "Century?"

  "Yes. Assuming that nothing goes wrong with, well, other things that I'll be telling you about in just a second, there is no doubt that I will be pumped full of potions, pills, enchantments, and healing sessions that will prolong my life as long as I am useful. And I intend to die doing this work and helping as many people as I can. So I'll be useful for a very long time."

  "Huh. You know that life span is actually a good thing, considering my—" she fluttered her finger vaguely towards the plants and trees.

  He gave her a smile. "I figured. It's a nice change. Usually, that kills all hope of enduring companionship. Still, it would be hard to set down roots and lead a town that way, and I know that's your dream."

  She wanted to interject and tell him that was the sort of thing they needed to worry about after picking a lot of other low-hanging fruit. Simpler deal-breakers they needed to explore, like pets and being good roommates. Wade did not give her a chance to speak; he kept barreling on. "For the foreseeable future, I will be shifted around the East Coast to address threats and maintain a web of territories that might one day connect to be something important and huge. Maybe then I'd be able to stop traveling, but that's a long way off. Until that time, I don't plan on holding still. I plan on working a lot. And I mean a lot. Other people with this job can coast on talent or magic, but I'm not like that. Keeping up takes everything I have. There will be mostly late nights, and I haven't had a Thanksgiving meal in years. Some of that might change because, well, life changes. I also get that bachelor life isn't meant to be the same as your life once you're with someone, and I'm very willing to change some habits and routines so I can be a good partner. However, I need to keep helping people. That is a deal breaker for me. I won't put my life at risk by under-training or jeopardize others by not living up to the role I've been given. With this kind of power, my responsibility is huge, and I absolutely will not fail it."

  He looked at her, eyes hard, and jaw tense, like he was trying to hold back from gritting his teeth.

  "Uhh, okay. I mean, that's good. Honestly, I appreciate the altruism. Frankly, if most of your job is living somewhere for a few years, building up a base of operations, and occasionally going on trips to check out other old spots, then that doesn't sound terrible. I'll be real, if we move in together, then there might be issues if you turn out to be the dangerous, shitty type of workaholic, but I'm a big girl. I like my own job, and I also like me. In fact, spending time with me is one of my favorite things. If I spend a few nights a week with my own company in a house I like, then it's not the end of the world."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, Wade. I'm no shrinking violet. Work needs to be done, and doing good work, or good works, requires a little extra. I don't care if you love your job and have extra business trips. Because, and try to remember this, I will too. Not gonna lie, my dude, I'm going to fuck off into the forest sometimes, and I won't even do it to save lives. I just need a few days of quiet every once in a while. Also, another important clarification, I want to build and nurture a haven for dryads. Leadership is something I'd endure only long enough to give the job to someone more suited to it."

  She expected some of the tension to leave him, but it didn't. If anything, he got more grim.

  "I've done some fucked up stuff, and that has left me sensitive to certain things."

  She tried to keep from shrinking in on herself. "I've had some fucked up things done to me. They—and the things I did to get away from them—left their own marks. Are you currently supporting or enacting atrocities?"

  "No."

  "Then we're probably fine. Can't say for sure until you tell me, but try not to be an asshole, don't hurt children, and don't act like a psycho."

  The big man dropped his eyes, sighed from the depths of his soul, and forced himself to meet her gaze again.

  "My Dad was an amazing man who was a weak bear-shifter. He got rabies."

  Holy shit.

  Oh fuck. That sort of made sense. But also, holy shit.

  "Which strain?”

  "One of the bad ones."

  "They're all bad."

  "One of the pretty bad ones. But not one of the worst."

  The bane in front of her was self-conscious and shrinking. That was inarguable. After all, the self-deprecation was one of her least favorite things about him. Still, Wade had a core of steel in him. There was a sort of resolve that was immovable. And she meant that seriously. Even imagining pushing him seemed ridiculous, like trying to pick up and carry a bank vault from the inside. There was something unreasonable that forced him to help others, to not care about himself, and refute any pain.

  She felt her eyes start to burn.

  Wade had something in the deep parts of him that pushed him to ignore hurts, as if he didn't believe—has been taught not to believe—that they would ever get better. Until this moment, that had just looked like stubbornness. Maybe even a spirit of philanthropy.

  Now though…

  She had an uncomfortable premonition about what sort of scars he was talking about. And that particular intuition had nothing to do with her being a dryad.

  "Wade…"

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