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"Let me get this straight," I said slowly, trying to process the logic in real time. "I don't have a problem with licking your pussy. But you have a problem with sucking my dick?"

"Of course I have a problem with that," she said, looking at me like I was the dumbest creature walking the earth. "I'm a pack princess. Princesses don't suck dicks. That's what your mistress is for."

A harsh laugh left my lips. The sound was cut short by a wave of possessive irritation. "I'm never going to have a mistress, Rosalind. I'm going to be entirely faithful to you until the day we both die. Like I said it in the vows."

She frowned, her clouded eyes narrowing in genuine confusion. "Oh? So... you would have a problem if another man licked my pussy?"

Every muscle in my body went rigid as iron. My hands clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists at my sides. A deep growl tore out of my throat. It vibrated through the peaceful bedroom with lethal promise.

"No other man will ever touch you," I ground out, my voice thick with violent intent. "Ever."

Rosalind actually looked baffled by my reaction. She tilted her head as if trying to solve a bizarre equation.

My head cocked to the side as the implications of her casual question hit my brain. I stepped directly into her personal space, looming over her until my shadow completely engulfed her.

"Has another man licked your pussy, Rosalind?"

"Of course," she answered flippantly, waving a dismissive hand through the air. "All the time."

The blood drained from my face, replaced by a blinding, white-hot surge of fury.

"They never penetrated me," she added, as if that made a fuck bit of difference. "Oral sex doesn't count. It's just for pleasure."

My mind reeled. The room tilted on its axis. All the time. The words echoed in my ears, triggering a raw, savage possessiveness that made my wolf howl inside my skull.

I needed to hit something. Right fucking now. And not a heavy bag in the basement. I needed living, breathing flesh beneath my knuckles. I needed to bleed the rage out of my veins before I did something I couldn't take back.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ROSALIND

Well, I didn't get my pussy licked last night.

Gunnar kept strictly to his side of the mattress again, silent as a grave, before slinking off the second he thought I was asleep. Where the hell was he going if not to a mistress to suck his cock, or fuck her pussy with that monstrously big dick of his?

My wolf snarled at the thought. A raw, ugly possessiveness clawed at the back of my throat. I might not want his big babies in my belly, but I'd be damned if I was going to let anyone else get their bellies full with what he was packing while I was in his bed. Unsatisfied.

I probably should go get my pussy licked. That would calm me down. It always did in the past whenever I was feeling anxious, restless, or thoroughly annoyed by my mother. One thing I knew for certain right now was that I had to get out of this house before the walls started closing in on me.

I got dressed in a soft pink knit dress. I'd mapped my section of Gunnar's closet while we'd unpacked, taking each garment he handed me and giving it a place. Dresses by length, then by fabric. Pants and skirts to the left. Shoes paired beneath the clothes they went with. Accessories in the drawers, each with its own section. I didn't need to see any of it. Once something had a place, I knew exactly where to find it.

I paired the dress with my oversized black designer sunglasses and made my way downstairs. I'd spent the weekend mapping the house as Gunnar showed me around, counting steps between rooms, memorizing turns, the width of doorways, the number of stairs, and where the banister ended. I'd only passed through the front door once, but once was enough. I knew exactly where it was. What I truly needed to solve this foul mood was a little retail therapy.

Guided by the scent of freshly brewed espresso, I found my way to the kitchen. I caught Mei Ling’s distinct jasmine scent immediately, but she wasn't alone. Another female wolf was in the room—carrying a lighter, youthful variation of Mei Ling’s jasmine. It reminded me of the honeysuckle in my mother's backyard. That scent was overlaid with the sharp, unmistakable scents of university life: cheap lavender perfume, coffee beans, and the subtle chemical tang of highlighter ink.

"Astrid, this is your new sister."

I couldn't see Astrid clearly—just a dark, slender silhouette against the morning light coming through the windows—but I knew when another woman was sizing me up. There was a subtle hitch in her breathing. The feel of the cool, analytical sweep of her gaze over my dress, my hair, and my glasses. I knew the politics of she-wolves inside and out, and I wasn't about to back down to a college girl.

Astrid took a slow sip of what smelled like a vanilla latte. "I just got home for semester break. Sorry I missed the wedding."

She didn't sound sorry in the least.

"I missed Vidar and Addie's wedding too," Astrid added flippantly, setting her mug down on the granite counter with a small clack. "And it doesn't look like Magnus and Nell are in any hurry. Honestly, at this rate, maybe I'll actually manage to show up to my own."

I tilted my head toward the sound of her voice, resting my hand lightly against the kitchen island. "Are you engaged?"

"Yup," Astrid said, popping the P. "My parents arranged it about a month ago."