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She barks at me before yelping and clawing at the powdery snow as she sinks deep into the tree well.
I only wake for a moment before a heavy, strong arm curls around me and pulls me into a hard, warm body.
I drift off again almost instantly, breathing steady sips of my mates’ mingled scents.
The next morning, that dream still clings to me.
The weight of it.
The heaviness of dread coats my skin.
Like so many other things.
It doesn’t take a psychologist to uncover the not so hidden meaning of the dream.
A green- and blue-eyed pup with three colors in her coat?
Our pup.
She’s ours.
And if I can’t figure out a way to fight for her, for us, she won’t ever come to be.
From under a pile of limbs—I guess everyone slept here last night—I glance toward the window. It’s overcast and gray, a telltale sign of the changing season.
I extract myself from the tangle of arms and legs and grab a quick, scalding hot shower. When I return, Drago and Rafe are lying back-to-back, while Jonah and Rook are cuddled close.
I give the scene a small smile before padding out and lightly shutting the door behind me.
“You have to tell them,”Mari glares at me from over her steaming pot of—
Actually, I don’t know what she’s brewing. It doesn’t smell like anything I’ve ever concocted.
“What are you brewing there?”
She gives me a stink eye. “We’re talking about you, not my brilliant new decoction. The longer you wait to tell them, the angrier they’re going to be.”
“I know. I just… I don’t know how to do it. How am I supposed to them the reason we’re all fucked because we all decided ancient claiming rights was the way to fucking go?”
Mari rolls her eyes at me, grumbling into the steamy pot she’s carefully stirring. I flop into the bar stool and take in all the changes she’s made to the healer cottage. A few things are in different places, and she painted the walls a deep shade of emerald, giving the small cottage a very mystical and cozy witchy vibe.
I didn’t think it was necessarily her style, but—
She catches me eyeing the decor changes. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“Oh?”
She nods. “You know I don’t care about stuff like that.”
“So whose idea was it?”
“Josie’s.”
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Josie, from the—”
“Yup. I reached out to all three omegas who came here from that shitty Laurel Cove pack. The other two found their place with our omegas pretty quickly, but Josie has the deepest wounds, I think. She comes by almost every day asking questions about herbs and whether I could make something strong enough to take her heat away forever. That’s what I’m working on now.”
“She doesn’t want to be an omega anymore,” I muse, mostly to myself.
