For all he relished the pack run, his thoughts were at the house. He had to stop himself from going there, from finding Elijah by the fire or in whatever room he’d chosen, and bringing him to his own bed so he could lose himself in Elijah’s scent, in his body. So he could move with Elijah, indulge his whims and pleasures, sate and satisfy him until he never wanted to leave, then ask him to be there, to stay there. Forever. Because he was sure now that Elijah was perfect for his pack. For him. Too perfect to let go.
