Elias had lived through wars, pgues, and two centuries of humanity's follies, but nothing had prepared him for the indignity of a roommate.

  "This is temporary," he reminded himself, straightening the antique volumes on his bookshelf for the third time that evening. The apartment—his sanctuary for the past decade—would soon be invaded by a werewolf, of all creatures.

  The supernatural housing crisis had reached desperate levels. Some bmed it on gentrification pushing magical beings from their traditional neighborhoods; others pointed to the recent peace accord that had brought previously isoted species into the city. Whatever the cause, the Supernatural Council had enacted emergency housing measures. Those with extra space were required to take in those without.

  Elias had appealed, of course. Vampires and werewolves were natural adversaries. The arrangement was asking for trouble. But his appeal had been denied with a curt note: "Centuries-old prejudices must end somewhere. Consider this your contribution to a more harmonious supernatural community."

  A knock at the door interrupted his brooding. Three sharp raps, hesitant yet determined. Elias smoothed his charcoal sweater, adjusted his posture to its full, imposing height, and opened the door.

  The werewolf was younger than he'd expected. Mid-thirties in human appearance, with tousled brown hair that curled slightly at the edges and warm amber eyes that held Elias's gaze without flinching. Broad-shouldered and solid, he wore a faded denim jacket and carried a single duffel bag.

  "You must be Elias," the werewolf said, offering a hand. "I'm Noah Parker."

  Elias regarded the extended hand with mild distaste before briefly taking it. The werewolf's skin was unnaturally warm against his cool touch.

  "Yes. Well. Come in, I suppose." He stepped aside, gesturing Noah into the apartment with the reluctance of someone inviting in a stray dog. "The Council mentioned you work nights."

  Noah nodded, gncing around the space with undisguised curiosity. "I run a diner on Crescent Street. The Night Owl. Caters to our kind." His eyes lingered on the ornate ceiling moldings, the carefully arranged bookshelves, and the pristine furniture. "Nice pce."

  "Thank you. I've spent considerable time curating it." Elias closed the door with a soft click. "Your room is this way."

  The spare bedroom was small but elegant, with a rge window overlooking the city. Elias had cleared his art supplies from the desk and removed most personal items, leaving only a bed, dresser, and desk.

  "Bathroom is across the hall. We'll share it." The words tasted bitter in his mouth. "I've cleared half the closet space and two kitchen cabinets for your use."

  Noah set his bag down on the bed. "Don't need much space. I appreciate it."

  An awkward silence stretched between them, heavy with centuries of ingrained animosity and the personal discomfort of two strangers forced to share intimate space.

  "I have rules," Elias said finally.

  Noah's mouth quirked. "I figured you might."

  "No shoes on the furniture. Clean dishes immediately after use. No loud music. No..." he hesitated, searching for a delicate way to phrase it, "...marking territory."

  The werewolf's eyebrows shot up. Then, unexpectedly, he ughed—a warm, rich sound that seemed to fill the austere room with life. "I'm housebroken, I promise. Been living in human society long enough to keep my more wolfish tendencies in check."

  Elias didn't smile. "One more thing. I don't keep blood in the common areas. I expect the same courtesy regarding your...dietary needs."

  Noah shrugged. "I eat regur food. The shift increases my metabolism, but otherwise, I'm pretty conventional." He unzipped his duffel bag. "Look, I know this isn't ideal for either of us. But I'll stay out of your way as much as possible."

  Something in the werewolf's reasonable tone made Elias feel slightly petty. He straightened. "Yes, well. The Council believes this arrangement will st approximately three months. I'm sure we can both endure that long."

  "Three months," Noah echoed, pulling out a framed photograph and setting it on the nightstand. A woman with the same warm eyes smiled from the picture. "We'll barely notice each other."

  They noticed each other constantly.

  Noah's coffee cups appeared in unlikely pces—on bookshelves, beside the bathroom sink, banced precariously on the arm of Elias's favorite reading chair. His presence lingered in scents that assaulted Elias's sensitive nose: soap and coffee and that distinct werewolf musk that set his nerves on edge.

  Worse were the sounds. Noah hummed while cooking, talked softly to himself when reading, and had the habit of padding around the apartment at odd hours when his diner shift ended.

  One week in, Elias found himself gring at a dirty pan left soaking in the sink.

  "Problem?" Noah had appeared in the kitchen doorway, hair damp from the shower, wearing only sweatpants low on his hips. Droplets of water traced paths down his chest, and Elias found himself momentarily distracted by the sight.

  "You left this." He gestured to the offending cookware. "We agreed dishes would be washed immediately."

  Noah yawned, revealing slightly sharper-than-human canines. "Sorry. Made breakfast before bed and was too tired to finish cleaning up. I was going to get to it when I woke up." He moved into the kitchen, reaching around Elias to grab the sponge. The movement brought him close enough that Elias could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

  "I can do it," Elias said, stepping back too quickly.

  Noah raised an eyebrow. "You sure? It's my mess."

  "Yes. Fine. Just...put on a shirt."

  A slow smile spread across Noah's face. "Does it bother you?"

  "Your state of undress is inappropriate for shared living spaces," Elias said stiffly.

  Noah chuckled but retreated to his room, returning moments ter with a soft gray t-shirt that did little to diminish his physical presence. "Better?"

  Elias didn't answer, busying himself with scrubbing the already-clean counter. He heard Noah moving around the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, the quiet domestic sounds grating on his nerves.

  "I'm heading to work in an hour," Noah said conversationally. "Won't be back until dawn. You'll have the pce to yourself."

  Elias nodded curtly. "I have pns this evening as well." He didn't, but the thought of a quiet evening alone with his books suddenly seemed unbearably constraining.

  "Hot date?" Noah teased, pouring orange juice into a gss.

  Elias shot him a withering look. "I'm meeting an associate regarding a rare manuscript acquisition."

  "Sounds thrilling," Noah replied, not unkindly. He leaned against the counter, studying Elias with those too-perceptive eyes. "You know, for someone who's lived so long, you don't seem to enjoy life much."

  The observation caught Elias off guard. "You know nothing about my life."

  "True," Noah conceded. "Just an observation." He drained his gss and pced it in the dishwasher—properly, Elias noted with grudging approval. "Maybe someday you'll visit my diner. We get all kinds there. Even the occasional vampire."

  "I don't frequent diners."

  "Of course not." Noah smiled again, that infuriating, easy smile that suggested he found Elias amusing rather than intimidating. "But if you change your mind, first meal's on the house. Roommate special."

  After he left, Elias found himself standing in the suddenly quiet apartment, unsettled in a way he couldn't quite name. Two centuries of carefully cultivated solitude, and now this—forced proximity with a creature whose very existence seemed designed to disrupt his perfectly ordered life.

  Three months, he reminded himself. Surely, he could tolerate anything for three months.

  He gnced at the clean kitchen, catching the lingering scent of citrus and werewolf, and wondered why the silence he'd always cherished now felt strangely empty.