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I wasn't really into that friends-through-someone-else thing. Either we were friends, or we weren't. And Jesse's packmates weren't my friends.
But… he’d spent the day following me around, feeding me. So I kind of owed him.
"You went to school with me, so I can do dinner with your buddies."
He shot me a look I couldn't read. "We don't have to. It was just a question."
"Yeah, but I'm sure you miss your friends. You've been stuck in wolf form for a long time, and—"
"And they're not friends, they're family. They get it. I do too. If you don't want to do dinner with them, we won't." He paused. "But they're nosy bastards. I give it three days, tops, until they start pushing to see us more."
I lifted an eyebrow in his direction. "They left me alone for way more than three days."
"That was before you were a female wolf," he said simply. "And before you wore my wolf's marking."
Shit... I still hadn't looked at that.
I tugged my shirt upward, exposing my hip where he'd bitten me. I wasn't sure if there was like, a typical place for a bite or anything, but it looked pretty gnarly. Though it was healed, the skin was a deep red color that clearly marked it as a scar from a bad injury.
"It's freaking huge." I shot Jesse a glare. The scar was twice as big as my hand, even with my fingers spread apart.
"My dick? Yes, yes it is."
Even surprised and pissed about the scar, I snorted at the joke. "The bite, moron."
"I didn't tell the wolf to make it that large, if that's what you're getting at. I can't communicate with him. If I could, I would've told him that breaking his promise to a lady was a damn good way to lose her trust."
“Is this normal though?”
He shrugged. "Every wolf marks their mate in a unique way. Some prefer small markings in hidden places, others prefer large scars in visible locations. Your mark is larger than most, but it's also fairly well-hidden."
"Well-hidden? I can't wear most of my clothes without flashing at least a little of this, Jesse." I gestured to my hip.
How had I not noticed the size of the thing? So much homework, so much coffee... dammit, it had distracted me.
"It's not on your arm or face," he pointed out.
"I will rip your freaking huge dick off your body if you don't quit arguing with me.”
He shot me an amused grin. "Hey, Teapot. Quit calling this poor kettle black."
"Most teapots are not black, Kettle. That's not the saying. And—" I cut myself off, realizing I'd only confirmed his joke. "Dammit."
