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“Oh? Never pictured you as one who liked it when a girl is jealous.”
“Baby, you’re not jealous,” he said. “You’re entitled, and rightfully so. You’ve been claimed by me, you married me. You have every right to tell other females to step off. And I think it will be incredibly sexy when you do.”
River listened quietly as we went back and forth on the subject, having the good grace not to look embarrassed or grossed out by our public display of mutual affection. Though, as I thought about it, I wondered if that was less about River being quietly supportive and more about the general culture of a pack of shifters.
River must have felt my eyes on him because he looked over at me as I was thinking about it. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“I’m sorry if we’re making you feel awkward,” I said.
“Why would I feel awkward?” he asked. “You two are mates. Cole’s right. You have every reason to call Piper out on her bullshit.”
“So that’s her name, huh?” I asked.
“It’s almost poetic that you haven’t bothered to learn her name yet,” River teased.
“But before I forget,” I said, thinking, “there was the whole thing with her flirting with Cole in Georgia, and then there was this, and…well…then the whole process of getting claimed.”
River nodded, his expression unchanging. I looked up at Cole, too, seeing his expression similarly unchanged.
“Do these things genuinely not bother you guys?” I asked. “I mean…it was Cole’s dad who told us we should move forward with the marking. And Cole, you got so flustered then that I thought for sure you felt the same way I did about having conversations about that…stuff.”
“Well, Cole’s been pretty far removed from a pack dynamic most of his life,” River said diplomatically. “It makes sense that he would have internalized some of the secrecy you nonshifters have about the birds and the bees.”
I looked up at Cole again, and he shrugged. “A lot of those feelings for me come from not wanting to make you uncomfortable, sweetheart,” he said. “Some of it also comes from people like Travis not wanting to hear about it. But yeah, generally speaking, it’s just considered a part of shifter life.”
“So…I’ve been holding you back?” I asked.
“No, baby. Not at all,” he said without a moment of hesitation. “It’s just like anything else in a relationship. Would you say I was ‘holding you back’ because I don’t love it when you go places without your phone because I want to make sure you’re reachable if something happens?”
“I guess not,” I said.
“Same concept,” he said. “It makes you uncomfortable, so it’s no skin off my nose to keep our more intimate moments private. It’s an easy choice for me.”
“It gets easier all the time to be open about that stuff, I’ve been noticing,” I commented.
“You’re getting immersed in pack culture,” River said. “Makes sense that it’s starting to stick.”
I smiled to myself a little, surprised by how happy that little observation made me. Maybe I really was starting to integrate into the pack.
The rest of the day was spent catching the Georgia Pack members up on what we’d been doing in headquarters, telling them about the upcoming election for superintendent, and giving them ample warnings about Curt and his so-called “pack.” All in all, it was a nice way to spend the day before having to go to the doctor and begin our gene therapy the following day.
Cole and I were both exhausted when we finally tumbled into bed for the night, and I was grateful for it, considering what would follow. As we turned out the lights, he tugged me closer to him and nuzzled into my hair, exhaling slowly and pressing sweet kisses to the back of my head.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” he asked.
“Nervous,” I said. “But not as nervous as I thought I would be. My therapist said nervousness and excitement are chemically the same, so…maybe I’m excited.”
“Maybe you’re both,” he suggested. “Maybe a bit of both.”
I nodded. “How do you feel about it?”
“I think I’m probably a lot more nervous than you are,” he admitted. “The doctor has been assuring me that the risks are small when it comes to your gene therapy. I’m trying to let that be the thought that sticks in my head instead of freaking out.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I know it’s really hard, but I really do appreciate you doing your best to be supportive of this. Supportive of me.”
“Always,” he said, kissing the back of my head. “Do you think you’re going to be able to sleep? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I think I’ll be alright,” I said through a yawn, as if the mention of sleep had conjured up its presence. “How about you?”
