A Tiny Matchmaker for Two Star-Crossed Mates by Anya Byrne Page A

gentle hand. "There you go. How are you feeling, pup?"
    Myles couldn't help but bristle a little at the word 'pup'. He knew he was small. This stranger didn't have to rub it in further.
    Then again, in all likelihood, the man simply did not realize the sad truth about Myles, which must also be why he'd helped Myles recover from his injury. Myles couldn't help but be wary—it was obvious that his would-be rescuer had some sort of magic, and if the stranger turned against him, things wouldn't go well for him. Could he get away with staying in shifted form for a while longer?
    The stranger almost seemed to guess his thoughts. "Do you think you can shift for me?" he asked. "There are some things we have to talk about, if you feel up to it."
    His voice held no forcefulness, but Myles was reminded of the fact that he was most likely on Lone Wolf Pack territory, and the people here were undoubtedly wary of intruders. If he hesitated further, would his unwilling hosts hate him even more? He didn't know, but perhaps it was better to get the unpleasantness out of the way. After all, he already felt better than he had in months. Even if they did cast him out, he could find his way to another refuge. Hopefully.
    As such, Myles sat up and allowed his shift to flow over him. Fur rippled and bones shifted, and in seconds, Myles was in human form—and completely naked. Of course, the first thing he did was to curl in on himself and grab a blanket to shield his nudity. Other shifters might not mind displaying their bare bodies, but he wasn't like them, as his pack had pointed out so many times in the past.
    The stranger blinked in surprise, and a shadow crossed his face, making Myles wince. The anger he'd expected didn't come. In fact, the man didn't address the elephant in the room at all. Instead, he extended his hand and smiled once more. "I'm Mathias Girard. I'm half-Sidhe, and I healed your injuries. Now, do you think you can tell me a bit about how you reached our lands in that condition?"
    Myles nodded and miraculously managed to find his voice. "Yes, of course. And... Err... Thank you. For saving me."
    The words came out raspy, and in a staccato pace, clumsy because he hadn't shifted into his human form for so long. Mathias didn't seem to mind. He waited patiently while Myles gathered his thoughts. Myles decided to follow his rescuer's example and begin with introducing himself. "I'm Myles. Myles... Gilliam."
    The last name came out after a long moment of hesitation, since his pack had made it clear he didn't belong with them. He half-wished he hadn't uttered it at all, but not saying it would've been suspicious. He'd already brought enough trouble without being extra weird.
    "Myles," the man—Mathias—said. "So...Myles, I'll start by saying I'm a bit concerned. When you were found in the forest, we all assumed you must have been attacked by hunters, but I could detect no traces of silver poisoning." He paused and gave Myles a piercing look. "Am I correct to assume that your condition is largely due to blood loss and starvation?"
    Myles nodded, feeling uncomfortable and inadequate under Mathias's scrutiny. At first, when he'd started living in the wild, he'd managed to hunt on his own, but that had changed after he'd had an unfortunate meeting with a mountain lion. While he'd recovered from the battle, it had led him to being quite weakened, which in turn, made it hard for him to use his werewolf skills to survive. From then on, everything had spiraled into an even bigger mess. A group of humans had shot him after blaming him for something the mountain lion had done, and he'd taken a tumble into a ravine to escape them. He'd then been chased by a pack of real wolves who must have decided he was easy prey. Really, he didn't even want to think about the tragicomedy that had been his life for the past few months.
    Still, he had to say something, so he decided to be as vague as possible. "I don't have a pack, so when I received an