The dickhead is pretty fucking wretched already.
It’s painfully clear that he’s digging for information, and I want to throw up my hands at how obvious he’s being. Honestly, I’m not sure how he and Dante survived so long without me to smooth things over.
“Why don’t we start with something easier?” I chop vegetables, loving when her eyes stray to me as I work. My fox chirps in excitement at her nearness but doesn’t uncurl from where he’s recovering. Even exhausted, he’s more alert than he has been in years.
Whatever she did to heal my injuries has seeped into my fox as well.
Every inch of me feels overly sensitive, even my insides feel tender, but the bone-deep ache that has been plaguing my soulfor the last few years is gone. It doesn’t hurt to move anymore, doesn’t hurt to call upon my fox. My senses don’t burn when I try to use them.
It’s…peaceful.
I feel like a new person, but the healing wiped me out. I’m beyond tired, barely smothering a yawn as I struggle to stay awake. My fox is curled up in the back of my mind, his nose buried in his tail. I would think he’s sleeping if it weren’t for the way his ears swivel, as if searching for any sounds of the girl.
It’s stupid. I just met her today, but I feel connected to her somehow. Could she really be my mate? My family died before they could share the information on how foxes find their mates. I’m aware of her every breath, every subtle shift of her body. My hands ache to touch her, my lungs desperate for more of her scent.
Honestly, I fear that if she tries to leave, my fox will pounce on her…or follow her like a lovesick pup.
I’ve never felt like this with anyone.
That makes her special, right?
Unfortunately, I don’t know if that proves she is my mate or if I’m just horny.
After dumping the veggies into the hot pan, I point the knife at the guys. “The moody asshole you bit is Dante. He’s our enforcer.”
At the reminder, she swipes the back of her hand against her mouth, removing the trace of blood smeared along her lips, but her golden eyes are not the least bit contrite, meeting him glare for glare. Judging by the glint in her eyes, she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again if he tried to get close.
Her defiance is sexy as fuck, and I love it!
I thought I preferred submissive women, but if the way my dick has yet to go down is any indication, I just haven’t met the right woman yet.
“Feisty. I like it.” Just to be a dickhead, Dante winks and waves his bandaged hand. “I’m not opposed to a little love bite, but how about next time, we keep our foreplay in the bedroom?”
I flip the knife in my hand, catching the blade, ready to skin the fucker, which only makes the asshole smirk. I hastily set the knife down and clear my throat to draw her attention, pointing in the opposite direction. “The wolf you met is Garth. He’s our acting alpha in charge.”
I glare at Dante when she finally turns to glance at the other man, but the fucker just shrugs, completely unrepentant. If I didn’t know better, I would swear he’s actually enjoying himself, but that can’t be right. Dante only enjoys tormenting his prey, then killing them.
Not even his gaggle of women can wrestle a smile from the moody bastard.
I swear to the gods, if he even thinks of harming her, I’m going to fucking neuter the bastard.
The two men are so temperamental, it’s like living with two toddlers.
They’re fucking exhausting.
I spend most of my days cleaning up after the assholes and struggling to remain sane after listening to their constant bickering.
It’s a thankless, full-time nanny job with no pay.
The only reason I stay is that no one else would put up with the bastards.
Garth grunts in acknowledgment at the introduction, but otherwise, his expression doesn’t change. His bright blue eyes remain intense, slightly squinty—an expression he often wears when he communicates with us through the pack bonds. I have no doubt the fucker is trying to read her mind, and my fox bristles with outrage.
I toss the vegetables to prevent myself from beaming him over the head with the pan. Part of me is desperate to learn what he discovers, not worried about what boundaries he’s crossing, craving to learn even the smallest detail about her to ease my anxiety. The other part doubts he’ll get anywhere. She’s too strong to let anyone past her shields.
I’ve lived with these assholes so long, I know how they think.
It’s part of being pack.
