Owen held a small piece of meat that had been roasted to a golden brown, smelling delicious. Seeing his mate nodding off by the fire waiting for him, Owen's footsteps faltered, his eyes filled with emotion and tenderness.
But Owen knew the smell on him truly hadn't washed off, even though he had soaked until his skin wrinkled. He feared that if he got close, his mate would throw him out just like that lonely leather bag lying outside the entrance.
Rowan saw that shifty, timid look and knew exactly what was going on. He sighed helplessly, brushed himself off, and stood up to take the meat from Owen's hand, taking care to avoid touching his fingers.
