mind.
“Who would do this? Is there any chance it was an accident?”
“There’s no chance of that, honey. Look at this.” She holds up a piece of the lace the runs her finger down a jagged tear. “Claws. Someone came in here with their claws out and wanted to send a real message.”
“They don’t want me marrying their Alpha,” I say dryly.
It’s the understatement of the century. No matter what I do, I’m never going to be a wolf. Even though the last few weeks have been fine, that’s all they’ve been: fine. No one has given me a hard time, but no one has really talked to me, either.
Most of the wolves simply ignore me.
“They’ll warm up,” Aunt Germaine says, and I can tell she really believes what she’s saying, but I don’t know if I can believe it. Maybe Nash really would be better off without me. It’s not my first time thinking this way, but as I look at my ruined dress, I can’t help but focusing on that thought.
Maybe I should just leave .
Nash would never admit he wants a wolf bride. He would fight for me to the death. I know that, but he needs this pack. The pack is his family. Maybe he needs them more than he needs me. Maybe I should walk away and give him the pack, let him live with the ones who need him more than I do.
We met under weird circumstances, I know. Maybe that’s why we’re struggling now. I know I can’t say anything to Nash about the dress because he’ll be upset. He’ll talk to the pack and they’ll resent me even more for being a nasty little tattle-tell.
I won’t give them the satisfaction.
“We can make another dress,” Aunt Germaine says, and I nod numbly.
“Yeah. I’ll come back tomorrow, okay? We can talk about it then. I think I just want to be alone right now, though.”
She looks at me knowingly and for a brief second, I hate the way Germaine can see straight through me.
“It’ll get better,” she offers helpfully.
“Will it?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Sit,” she points at a chair, and I collapse in it.
“The pack hates me.”
“They just don’t like change.”
“They think he’s better off without me.”
“They don’t like anything new or unusual, honey.”
She heads into the corner while I sulk in my seat, then returns with two cups of tea. I take mine and gingerly sip it.
“Did you know my husband was human?” She asks and I spit my tea out.
“What?”
“He was. A woodsman,” she adds, as if she’s imparting a huge secret, and in some ways, she is.
“I had no idea.”
“Most of the pack doesn’t remember him. Those who do remember him don’t realize he wasn’t a shifter.”
“But can’t you guys smell if someone is human.”
“Yes, but we were together so often my scent covered him. The only thing the other shifters could smell was me.”
“So you’re saying that when you and he, um, were ‘together,’” I begin.
“Sexually,” she adds helpfully.
“Right. When you were together sexually,” I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with Nash’s aunt. Could I be any more embarrassed? “You basically scent-marked him?”
“Mmhmm.”
“So you think, what? That Nash and I should have more sex?” I blush. We have sex a lot already. At least, I think we do. The problem is that although the pack has returned to normal, basically, we still struggle to find time to ourselves. There’s still a lot that seems to conspire to keep us apart.
Often, we don’t get to be alone until the end of the day and by that point, we’re both so exhausted we can’t think straight. I’ve been running the children’s care center in the caves and Nash is always so busy with pack business that we hardly have time to ourselves.
Maybe there’s something to what she’s saying, though.
“I don’t think they’re going to forget I’m not a wolf.”
“But they might mind a lot less if you don’t smell so human.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s worth a try. You have nothing to
“Who would do this? Is there any chance it was an accident?”
“There’s no chance of that, honey. Look at this.” She holds up a piece of the lace the runs her finger down a jagged tear. “Claws. Someone came in here with their claws out and wanted to send a real message.”
“They don’t want me marrying their Alpha,” I say dryly.
It’s the understatement of the century. No matter what I do, I’m never going to be a wolf. Even though the last few weeks have been fine, that’s all they’ve been: fine. No one has given me a hard time, but no one has really talked to me, either.
Most of the wolves simply ignore me.
“They’ll warm up,” Aunt Germaine says, and I can tell she really believes what she’s saying, but I don’t know if I can believe it. Maybe Nash really would be better off without me. It’s not my first time thinking this way, but as I look at my ruined dress, I can’t help but focusing on that thought.
Maybe I should just leave .
Nash would never admit he wants a wolf bride. He would fight for me to the death. I know that, but he needs this pack. The pack is his family. Maybe he needs them more than he needs me. Maybe I should walk away and give him the pack, let him live with the ones who need him more than I do.
We met under weird circumstances, I know. Maybe that’s why we’re struggling now. I know I can’t say anything to Nash about the dress because he’ll be upset. He’ll talk to the pack and they’ll resent me even more for being a nasty little tattle-tell.
I won’t give them the satisfaction.
“We can make another dress,” Aunt Germaine says, and I nod numbly.
“Yeah. I’ll come back tomorrow, okay? We can talk about it then. I think I just want to be alone right now, though.”
She looks at me knowingly and for a brief second, I hate the way Germaine can see straight through me.
“It’ll get better,” she offers helpfully.
“Will it?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Sit,” she points at a chair, and I collapse in it.
“The pack hates me.”
“They just don’t like change.”
“They think he’s better off without me.”
“They don’t like anything new or unusual, honey.”
She heads into the corner while I sulk in my seat, then returns with two cups of tea. I take mine and gingerly sip it.
“Did you know my husband was human?” She asks and I spit my tea out.
“What?”
“He was. A woodsman,” she adds, as if she’s imparting a huge secret, and in some ways, she is.
“I had no idea.”
“Most of the pack doesn’t remember him. Those who do remember him don’t realize he wasn’t a shifter.”
“But can’t you guys smell if someone is human.”
“Yes, but we were together so often my scent covered him. The only thing the other shifters could smell was me.”
“So you’re saying that when you and he, um, were ‘together,’” I begin.
“Sexually,” she adds helpfully.
“Right. When you were together sexually,” I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with Nash’s aunt. Could I be any more embarrassed? “You basically scent-marked him?”
“Mmhmm.”
“So you think, what? That Nash and I should have more sex?” I blush. We have sex a lot already. At least, I think we do. The problem is that although the pack has returned to normal, basically, we still struggle to find time to ourselves. There’s still a lot that seems to conspire to keep us apart.
Often, we don’t get to be alone until the end of the day and by that point, we’re both so exhausted we can’t think straight. I’ve been running the children’s care center in the caves and Nash is always so busy with pack business that we hardly have time to ourselves.
Maybe there’s something to what she’s saying, though.
“I don’t think they’re going to forget I’m not a wolf.”
“But they might mind a lot less if you don’t smell so human.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s worth a try. You have nothing to
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