Page 57 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

Tessa.

Grant.

The beach ceremony. The vows. The legal part.

Delayed. Not canceled, but delayed.

The thought moved through me slowly, through fever and pain and the strange, awful weight of the mark. My sister was not marrying him today. Because I had fallen through a hedge and been bitten by a werewolf.

There was probably no greeting card for that.

I stared at Ronan. “You delayed the wedding.”

“Yes.”

“As a courtesy.”

“Yes.”

“That is very thoughtful kidnapping.”

His mouth didn’t move. “It keeps the humans on property and reduces questions about your absence.”

Of course. There it was. Not kindness. Containment with centerpieces.

Still, something ugly and relieved loosened in my chest.

Grant didn’t get to marry her today.

Not yet.

Maybe that should not have mattered while I was poisoned in a locked room, but I had spent the last year learning that betrayal didn’t respect proportion. It grew where it wanted.

Ronan continued, “Your family has been told you are stable. Your father has been given the physician’s assurance through Lucien.”

I looked at Ian. He was watching me now, and the force of that attention made my skin heat under the fever.

“Did you know?” I asked.

His brows drew slightly. “About the wedding?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Would you have told me?”

“Yes.”

Ronan’s gaze cut to him.

Ian didn’t look away from me. “Yes.”

That answer should not have mattered either but it did. I hated how many things mattered when I was too weak to defend against them.

A knock came at the door and everyone turned toward it. Ronan opened the door only a hand’s width.

Lucien’s voice came through, quiet and controlled. “Her father received the text. He is calmer.”