She's still sitting so close our knees touch, her whiskey-colored eyes red from crying, her long blonde hair a beautiful mess from burying her face in my fur only moments ago.
Gods.Sweet Mother Moon.
My mate.
She knows now.
Daria knows what I am.
And she didn't run.
“Okay, but first I have so many questions,” she whispers, then laughs a little.“I don't even know where to start.”
“Start anywhere, Honey.”
She laughs softly.
“I kissed a Werewolf.”
“You did.”
“I hugged a Werewolf.”
“You did.”
“I cried on a Werewolf.”
“You absolutely did.”
She snorts.
“Well, those are sentences I never thought I'd say.”
I smile.
“You wear it well.”
She rolls her eyes.
“I can't believe you're making jokes right now.”
“What can I say?I'm relieved.”
“So you're funny when you're relieved?”
“I'm funny when you're around I guess.”
Her cheeks turn pink.
Sweet Mother Moon, she's beautiful.
Silence settles between us.
Comfortable.
Warm.
Hopeful.
