"So... let me get this straight. You mean to tell me that you traveled thousands of miles from the Bermuda Triangle..."

"Devil's Triangle," Micah corrected.

"Devil's Triangle... to New York? I have to compliment you there. You're a good storyteller. How exactly did you come up with this?"

Micah's gaze darkened instantly. "I'm not lying. It's true."

"You're expecting me to believe that?" Noah asked in utter disbelief.

"Yes."

Noah laughed under his breath. "Give me one reason."

Micah said nothing and pointed to his twitching ears. Noah exhaled through his nose softly, trying to make sense of this.

A place where humans can't reach. There's a werewolf civilization.

What fresh hell is this?

The worst part of it all was how much Noah believed him. How much sense it kind of made, even though he'd never admit it out loud.

"I have questions," Noah said after gathering his thoughts.

Micah crossed his arms for the third time today, and from his posture, he looked fully uncooperative.

"One question."

Noah opened his mouth to argue, but considering what a bastard this man was, he went along with it.

"Fine. Uh... does everyone there have ears and tails like you?"

"Yes, they do," he responded coolly in a knowledgeable voice.

"Oh! Do they look different in shape and size?" Noah's eyes sparkled with interest.

"That's more than one question," Micah announced, his tail twitching in irritation.

"Just answer it."

Turns out they were both getting annoyed by this. Neither was willing to submit.

"You still haven't fed me," Micah said suddenly, his tail standing up proudly, like he knew he'd just won the conversation.

"Fair enough."

"Then feed me, human," the dark-haired man ordered.

"You say that like I owe you. Ask nicely," Noah shot back, standing his ground.

Micah's lips twitched into a smirk. "Make me."

Now who the hell does this boy think he is? Ordering me around like some kind of servant.

I should do something about this.

Unfortunately, Noah only thought this and did not act upon it.

"You... ugh, fine," he groaned, trudging toward the kitchen.

He turned the stove off and started shoving spoonfuls of stew into a bowl with more force than necessary.

His jaw was clenched tightly, and he carried the bowl to Micah. The boy didn't even say thank you. He simply grabbed it before digging in with gusto. The bowl seemed to empty within seconds. Without even giving an opinion, he asked for more.

Quickly, the giant pot of stew disappeared within the next minutes, and if Noah hadn't saved some for himself, Micah would've eaten that too.

Then the werewolf leaned back against the couch with a satisfied sigh. Noah, on the other hand, sat a few feet away from him, finishing his own bowl of stew.

Micah moved closer and rested his head directly on Noah's lap.

"What the hell are you doing?" Noah sputtered, his cheeks flushing bright red.

"I require sleep. Your lap is soft," Micah claimed as if that were a valid excuse to invade someone's personal space.

"Eh?! I am not a pillow! Get off me!"

Micah didn't move an inch. He just tilted his head, his ears twitching impatiently.

In that moment, Noah really wanted to touch his ears, but he pushed the intrusive thoughts away.

I must not think about touching the ears.

I MUST not touch them.

...But for five seconds...

"How do I sleep then?" Micah asked, looking right up at Noah.

"On the couch."

"What is that?"

Noah blinked once.

And twice.

Riiight.

This guy is a complete idiot... werewolf.

Why'd I bring this guy into my damn apartment in the first place?

Of course he doesn't know what a couch is.

"Are you serious right now?"

"Yes."

"It's the thing your legs are on."

Micah glanced down at the soft cushion, the same one he'd been sitting on for the past hour or so, with utter disdain.

"This... twisted piece of furniture is simply not worthy of me."

"You act like a spoiled royal." Noah had to restrain his eyes from twitching, or he might've just kicked the man for disrespecting his loyal couch.

"I am a chief's son," Micah countered.

"So you say. But whatever."

Noah pushed Micah's head off his lap and stood up.

He grabbed a blanket and pillow from a chair and shoved them straight into Micah's arms.

Micah slowly turned to stare at the couch, then back at Noah, and his expression was priceless.

His mouth was agape, and he looked like someone had betrayed him.

Mwahahahahahah! Look at his face! He looks so stupid...

Okay... that's kinda mean, but look at it, though...

"Goodnight, Mr. Werewolf," Noah muttered under his breath as he turned off the light and retreated to his room.

His ears were still warm as he opened the door and peeled off his work clothes. He quickly changed into his pajamas before collapsing onto his bed and curling into the covers.

What have I gotten myself into?

I've got this hot, arrogant jerk in my house?

What else could I ever need? Noah thought sarcastically.

Seriously, what am I going to do?

He couldn't send this delusional werewolf, whom Noah somehow believed, to the police to find him a home.

The best-case scenario, he bites someone.

And the worst case?

They lock him in a damn asylum.

Noah wasn't willing to settle for either option.

He supposed he had to keep him in his house for now...

What's the worst that could happen?