The Snow Leopard's Pack (Glacier Leopards 5)

“Wow,” Lillian said finally, on a shaky exhale.

Cal laughed breathlessly. “Wow is right.” He’d rolled over on his back, and was staring at the ceiling, as though thinking some kind of deep thoughts. Lillian couldn’t imagine what they might be; her brain was completely wrung-out, and she felt like she might fall asleep at any moment.

In fact, the next few minute disappeared into a kind of fog, and the next thing she knew, Cal was there with a warm washcloth, giving them both a nice, shivery little sponge bath to get all the stickiness away. Lillian stretched out into the softness of the pillows as he disappeared again, and slipped away into sleep.

***

Cal watched Lillian softly breathing in her sleep, carried away on the wave of emotion that had descended on him when he’d first seen her naked and vulnerable, crossing her arms over her chest like she didn’t want anyone to look.

The wave still hadn’t crested. It just kept getting stronger and stronger. He’d thought he was at the peak when he’d tried to show her how gorgeous she was, how her luscious curves made him want to kiss her all over; when he’d made her come on his tongue; when he’d pushed inside her, so slowly, determined not to hurt her, and seen her go wild with pleasure.

When they’d come together, and he’d realized with a shattering epiphany that she was his mate.

Cal hadn’t ever thought he’d find his mate. He’d given up on the idea when he left his pack at eighteen to join the Marines. He’d known then that he was leaving shifter culture behind, and with it, the likelihood that he’d ever have even a slight chance to find a true mate.

Then, when he’d come to Glacier, he’d briefly wondered if his mate might be there. But when none of the shifter women in town had caught his eye at all, he’d given up on the idea entirely.

He’d never thought his mate might be human.

And he never could’ve dreamed up someone like Lillian. If he’d been thinking to himself, he probably would’ve imagined an outdoorswoman, a shifter, someone who’d patrol alongside him and work with him at the Park.

Someone who would fit right in with his life as it was.

Instead, here was Lillian. She’d gone to college. More than that, she was a librarian; she’d probably read more books in the last year than he’d even looked at in his life. She didn’t seem the outdoorsy type; too collected, too composed.

Gracious. Mannered, in kind of an old-fashioned way that Cal realized he liked. Watching her navigate social situations with that thoughtful competence was more attractive than he could’ve guessed.

And the way she’d looked around the cabin with a practiced eye, started suggesting changes before she’d cut herself off—

Well, what Cal had thought about saying, before he’d decided it was too forward, was that the place needed a woman’s touch. Because it did; he’d been thinking for years that he should ask a woman’s help with getting the place decorated, without ever managing to ask one.

Because, if he were honest with himself, he liked his home to be his own, and he didn’t want any strange people and their tastes intruding.

And yet, he’d invited Lillian to come stay without at second thought. He’d cooked her lunch and let her help clean up with him, and it had felt so natural that he hadn’t even remembered that he usually kept the place sacrosanct, never inviting anyone else over.

Now it made sense, though. Of course his mate felt like she belonged here. Of course he knew that this was her home, too.

Cal’s thoughts raced ahead before he could help himself. Lillian setting herself up as the woman of the house. Every room taking on touches of her taste. Seeing her presence in paintings on the walls or cushions on the chairs. Books stacked on end tables. Watching her move comfortably around the kitchen when it was her turn to cook. Arguing her into sitting down and resting her feet when it was his turn. Cooking together.

Even—maybe—having children someday.

Little snow leopard cubs.

That was an idea that he’d firmly cut off long ago. He’d known himself, he thought: a bachelor, childless, married to his job, destined to be the crusty old mentor to all the new young rangers coming into the Park. He’d settled comfortably into his role—he knew he acted older than he actually was, and he usually leaned into it.

It was a comfortable authority, a way of life he’d pulled around him like a worn-in old coat.

Taking the coat off, just to see what it might be like, felt strangely terrifying.

But...it could happen. It would depend on what Lillian wanted, of course. But maybe she wanted kids. He could picture that no-good ex-husband of hers so clearly in his mind: there was no way that asshole had wanted the extra responsibility of children. He was probably the type that thought kids would tie him down and keep him from achieving his dreams.

And maybe Lillian felt the same; maybe that was part of the reason they’d married in the first place. Cal had no way of knowing until he asked her.

But maybe she didn’t. And he could see it so easily: she’d be a great mother. Natural authority, absolutely immune to any type of kid-style manipulation, but kind and affectionate, ready with a hug or a time-out as needed. Ready to give Cal a piece of her mind if he did anything wrong. And faced with the complete foreign country that was babies, he’d need a safety net like that.

One day, Cal thought, with a careful deliberation, as though the idea might burst like a balloon if he hit it too hard, one day this cabin could hold a family.

Once they got through this mountain lion threat.