Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Nixon nods. Reed and Finn both keep their eyes on us, ever watchful. “We’re focused on our business.”
“The place looks good.” Hunter gestures behind them at the improved yard.
“It’s been a challenge, but we enjoy the work.”
Nodding, Hunter slides his hands into his own jeans, mirroring Nixon. I follow and so does Evan, understanding the value of body language. Mirroring is a way of creating common ground in an unconscious way.
“Well—” Hunter’s voice trails.
“If you’re looking for lumber, we offer competitive prices.” Nixon reaches out to offer his hand.
If Hunter’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “We have an old house that needs constant repairs. We’ll end up on your doorstep sooner than later.”
“Finn makes beautiful furniture. He’s a fine carpenter.”
Finn nods, glancing down as though his brother’s words have embarrassed him.
“We’ll bear that in mind.” Hunter takes a step back, putting him in line with me and Evan.
“It was nice to meet you.”
I stare at Nixon, wondering why this has been so easy. Could it really be that he’s looking for peace for his pack, or is he simply trying to lull us into a false sense of security?
Just as Hunter begins to turn, Nixon steps forward. “I heard about what happened to your mate.”
The growl that emanates from Hunter’s throat is immediate.
Nixon holds up his hands. “I wanted to say that I hope she’s made a full recovery. It’s a bad business bringing women and children into any war. When men make trouble, men should pay the price.”
“Yes,” I say quickly, despite the protocol dictating I should stay silent. “She is fine.”
“We are looking,” Reed says. “For our own mate.”
“May the Creator bless you,” Evan says.
Finn smiles. “She’s taking her time.”
We all laugh in short, stilted puffs.
With a tight wave, Hunter retreats to the truck. As we drive away, he lets out an almighty breath. “Dad would be happy,” he says, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the music. “And Mom would be proud.”
Isn’t that the truth?
But what will Goldie think? Is this really what’s been holding her back? I guess there’s only one way to find out.
33
GOLDIE
Days pass. A blood moon illuminates the sky, making Evan, Robert, and Hunter restless. Historically, wolves are more active when the moon is full and are driven to vengeance when it’s bloody.
The peace they’ve negotiated is untested, and despite their initial relief and their attempts to conceal their watchfulness, I’ve come to know their tells.
The war between wolves and bears has waged for longer than the records housed in the family library. I’m hopeful that the peace will hold for just as long but what do I know?
And while they reluctantly anticipate danger, we fall into a routine that's comfortable and content: breakfasts lit up by the fall sun, and afternoons spent reading on the ancient sofas in a library that looks like it should house secret doors and passages to another dimension.
We talk and laugh, and little by little, my concerns melt away. Little by little, my heart swells with affection for these men, who are so alike yet so crazily different.
Hunter takes time to tell me about the stories from their past. Curled up with him on the sofa, my head pressed against his chest where the beat of his heart is audible, I ask him about his childhood, trying to understand them better.
“Did you go to school?”
He wraps one of my curls around his finger, staring at it intensely. “Clan school.”
“So you didn’t mix with humans?”
“No, and it was a mistake.”
“You think so?”
“I think it makes it harder to live in the world when you do everything you can to exist on the fringes. I understand our parents wanted to keep us safe, but there’s danger in working to protect your children too much. Making children fearful of others is problematic.”
“It is,” I say. “Bear thing aside, there are too many divisions in this word, too many categories for people to slot themselves into instead of searching for what unifies us.”
“I want my cubs to love what makes them different, but not fear those who aren’t like them.”
“Even wolves?”
He nods solemnly. “Even wolves.”
I twist to stare up at the complex, wise man who’s testing the limits of his patience just being this close to me.
“You’re a wise man, Hunter.”
“And you’re a wise woman.” His complement is welcome, pushing aside the nagging doubts I had that he’s blinded by destiny and failing to see the real me. He kisses me, and it’s beautiful. A gentle molding of his lips to mine, a quickening of both our breaths, a rush of sensation through me that settles between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together as Hunter pulls back. He inhales deeply through his nose, and I remember what Robert said about their sense of smell.
Is he scenting my arousal? Does he know how he makes me feel?