He asked me not to abandon him.
That's gotta count for something, right? Like, progress? Even if he didn't mean it the way I wanted him to, he said it. And he has no clue about the imprint yet, which means... maybe he'll start coming to me on his own. Start needing me. Wanting me. Eventually.
Or maybe not, because the moment we got back, I saw him drag out the blanket and head for the couch again.
"Why don't you come on the bed to sleep?" I asked.
"Fuck that," Conan shot back without even looking at me. "I can fucking smell you from here."
"It would be—"
"You said you wouldn't force me to do anything. This is fine. Shut up so I can sleep."
Damn it. He always flips my words around. All those little deals we make, and somehow they always end up only benefiting him. I'm actually kind of proud of him for that—he's smart, sharper than most people in the pack—but that doesn't stop it from being frustrating. I wanted to be helpful. To take care of him in ways he wouldn't hate.
