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Walker’s people gave me a shift dress when they brought me to the cell that would be my home for the next few weeks, but the second I could finally tap into my other half again, I shredded that thing before shifting to my fur.
I refused to shift back. Let them think I was an animal. During my stay, Iwas—
—until Duke found me. Until a piece of home chose to sit at my side, soothing me with his bass voice, promising me everything and nothing if I could maintain my tenuous grip on my sanity. I did. Barely, but I did.
The quicksilver has been out of my system for a long, long time. I sense my wolf in every breath, every sigh, every beat of my Luna-damned heart. Still, she didn’t want to come out. It wasn’t just me. It was both of us. She needed the time to heal, to lick her wounds, and I needed to prove that I was me again. Trish.
Now, though? With the proof of my latest shift around me—literally, as my nightgown is scattered pieces of fabric dusted over our blankets—I finally feel whole.
And I have Duke to thank for that.
I doubt he’d see it that way. All he did was play the role of my guard, sleeping on my back porch so that my wolf sensed his and knew she was safe. I might have taken advantage of his kindness to curl up next to him, but I was in my skin when I did that. I haven’t sleep-shifted in years, but wrapped up in Duke’s aura, I did.
I’m still broken… just not beyond repair. I can shift again.
I’m whole.
Another laugh escapes me. For the first time in forever, I feel light. Free. It’s like a weight I haven’t even realized I’d been carrying has been lifted from my shoulder. I want to bounce. I want to run. I want to drop to all fours, give control over to my other side, throw back my head, and howl in shuddering relief.
I don’t, though, if only because Duke is still slumbering where I left him. I can care less if I wake up all of Accalia… just not him. He sleeps like a hibernating bear, rumbling and snorting, but I know it’s because he spends more hours a day protecting our pack—protectingme—than he can even make up in a couple of short naps. If he’s resting, sleeping through me joining him outsideandsleep-shifting… well, I’m not going to disturb him.
But I will do something.
I wait until I’ve put enough distance between us by crawling to hop to my feet and hurry for my porch. So giddy, I don’t even stop to lock the door. I just race for my room, grabbing the first change of clothing that I find, all while my brain is whirling.
He does so much for me. I don’t care if it’s because of his role as protector. So many of my packmates gave up on me after the trouble I caused. I don’t blame them, but the truth is what it is. Duke could’ve abandoned me, too. He didn’t, though, and it’s about time I show him how much I appreciate it—and how much I’ve grown to care about him.
I’m a shifter. There’s only one way I can do that and make sure he gets my meaning.
With food.
CHAPTER5
CUPCAKES
My mother is giddy when I ask her to get me all of the ingredients I need to make cupcakes.
I’ll be the first to admit I was a late bloomer. It’s part of the reason why I didn’t even think about who I would take as a mate until I was twenty. I was too distracted when I was young, no one really caught my attention as a “practice” mate, and I had a hobby that I preferred when I wasn’t hanging around with the other she-wolves.
As a pup, I spent a lot of time baking because my grandmother used to make breads and pastries for the pack. For a while, I entertained the idea of taking over for her when she retired. It wasn’t long before I realized I couldn’t bake bread for shit, and I didn’t have the patience for fiddly pastries like choux and puff.
But, Luna, could I make a mean cupcake.
When you’re a pup, you can feed anyone and there is no hidden meaning to it. As I got older, I couldn’t just bake cupcakes for fun, unless I was serving them to family and my girlfriends; no innuendo there. Males would think differently, of course, unless I was the pack baker.
However, before I could decide if that’s what I wanted to do, I fell for Ryker. Hard. I should’ve known then that, if my cupcakes couldn’t sway him, I never could, but from twenty on, I only baked for him. When he refused to take them, I stopped baking at all.
Mom tried to see if I wanted to start up again after my banishment was lifted. Same story when I came back from the Wolf District. She remembered how happy I was when I was creating recipes for the tiny cakes and decorating them with frosting and fondant designs. In her kind way, she thought she could bring the old Trish—the good Trish—back with some flour, sugar, and butter.
It didn’t work. I can’t tell you the last time I pulled my mixer out of storage. It wasn’t something that interested me—until I have the impulse to bake a dozen for Duke Conlon.
I don’t tell her who I’m making them for, of course. Knowing my parents as I do, they’ll get it in their heads that, this time, Duke might be the one for me. They’ve been pushing me to search out a chosen mate these last couple of years, and I’m sure they’d be ecstatic if it was a respected council member, strong enough to protect their only pup.
Or, Luna help me, they might get the idea in their skulls that Duke might even be the one. My fated mate.
Yeah, right.
He can’t be. I would know. Even if I’m too screwed up to recognize my forever standing there in front of me, he’d have some kind of clue. It’s instinct.
