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“Rubbing the mating in now, are you?”
Lenox shrugs. “Has your wolf seen her?”
He’s asking if I’ve approached Marybell as a wolf so that I can tell if she’s my mate or not. “He hasn’t and won’t.”
Lenox frowns. “Why not?”
“Because reasons.” Because the odds are stacked against me.
Lenox doesn’t probe, likely because we’re not best buddies, and if I didn’t answer already, I won’t.
He strides toward the trunk with a Kilseleian sigil on it. “This one’s from my mate.” With a grunt, he shoulders the entire thing, then starts walking back into my cabin.
At the door, he pauses, looking at me expectantly. “Do you want me to break it?”
I get the door. “Heavy little fuckers, no?”
Lenox drops the trunk by the second fireplace and rolls his shoulders and neck, then flexes his claws. “You ladies about ready?”
“No,” the three answer in unison.
Lenox rejoins me outside and stands there looking as comfortable as I am with small talk and waiting. Which is to say, not at all.
“I hate waiting,” I tell him.
“Are we bonding now?”
“Just a statement, grump.”
I whistle and order my males to store the rest of the luggage inside the shrine. One of the males opens a trunk, then glances at me, and I nod, slightly, telling him they can inspect the contents even if they’re private. McMars could’ve packed anything inside. I don’t trust them. Not completely, anyway.
“Who’s the other Kilseleian female?”
I pretend like I don’t know what he’s asking. “Hm?”
“I smelled another female inside your cabin.”
What to say, what to say. “She’s a nobody.”
Lenox levels me with a glare. “They’re not like lycan females, these Kilseleians. If you wanna fuck two of them, Marybell might have a problem with that, and then it becomes my problem because Gloriana will be sad if Marybell is sad. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“I see.” I’m only interested in one female, but I won’t tell him anything. The only reason I say nothing is because I don’t want his princess coming after Philippa for the blood magic. If Marybell tells the princess about the healer, that’s on her, not me. Besides, I’m considering bringing Philippa’s two girls into the village, which would make them clan mates. Under my protection.
“Your shrine is nice,” he states.
“Some spans, prayer was all that kept us going.”
“Hard winter, aye?”
“Made harder with the recent floods.”
“And the Kilseleians you’re hiding up here.”
He knows. “I’m not hiding them.”
He sniffs, the cold getting to him. While the McMars are lycans and are used to cold weather, they’re not us. We’re made to withstand harsh winters, our fur twice as thick as theirs, and mostly white for camouflage against the snow.
“You have more females, then?” Lenox asks.
