If I had more questions before … they’re now long forgotten. The guys stay the night with me in the cabin and after some more talking, we all fall asleep in a pile of interlocking bodies.
So much for my stubborn determination to stay here alone.
That night I dream about being a wolf again. This time I am in my den with Kaleb, Marlowe, and Rory, and we are all heaped into a comfortable pile just the way we were when we fell asleep in the loft. The only difference is that instead of human limbs, we are a mound of furry legs and tails.
A gray muzzle leans over to mine and our noses touch. Rory’s long, pink tongue licks my nose and I can feel myself giggle as I nuzzle my face up against his. I wonder how this love will feel in wolf form and I wonder how it will feel to be both animal and human at the same time. I lay my canine head back down against Kaleb’s back and feel our ears touch.
4
Kaleb
Getting married.
I’m getting married.
We’re getting married.
I never thought that prospect would make me giddy with excitement. I don’t think I even knew I could get giddy. Giddy.
But that’s what I am.
“So, tell me again why Sabrina isn’t up here at the house?” Lydia’s voice pushes through my mind as I sit, eyes trained out onto the green expanse stretching down to the edge of the forest, on one of the stools at the kitchen counter.
This must not be the first time she’s asked me this, because before I get the chance to answer, I end up on the receiving end of a swift kick to the back of the knees as Rory passes by.
“It’s at her insistence,” he says, artfully dodging my own kick in retaliation before setting down a huge stack of plates in the sink. He rolls up his sleeves and starts to help Lydia wash.
“Trust me, trust us,” Marlowe says, following at his heels. “If it were up to us, she’d already be here.”
While I do manage to dodge Marlowe’s attempt at my shins, I still end up with a face full of foam when Rory flicks soap bubbles my way.
“Hey!” I cry out, batting the bubbles out of my face. “It’s not like this is my fault.”
“Or maybe it is,” Marlowe says. “You’re the one who keeps trying to jump her bones every time she turns the corner.”
I bare my teeth at him, but even I can’t help the mischievous tug at the corner of my mouth.
Lydia just raises both hands to clap them over either side of her head.
“Nope!” she says. “I do not want to hear this. Please don’t tell me you’ve been endangering her chances at turning this close to the ceremony.”
Even though Marlowe keeps trying to play fight me, Rory straightens up and takes on a more serious tone. It’s not too easy to take him so seriously though … not when he’s currently up to his el
bows in dish suds.
“Of course not,” he says. “At least, not if Marlowe and I have anything to do with it.”
“Hey—” I start again, this time jumping up from my stool. But before I have the chance to defend myself, there’s a disbelieving huff from the door leading out of the kitchen.
We all straighten up as Romulus enters.
“Somehow, and as much as you might like me to believe it, I doubt it’s all Kaleb’s fault,” Romulus says. He eyes Rory with a meaningful stare. “Remember, you’re in charge of keeping everyone else in line. If that means controlling your brother so your future mate feels confident she can maintain intact before the ceremony, then that responsibility lies on you.”
Rory’s back is to me, but I can imagine the way his lips must press into a thin line.
“Of course,” he says again, but this time, there’s a slight edge to his voice. “I don’t need to be reminded of that.”
“Is that so?” Romulus asks, and for one second the tension in the air shifts. It becomes uncertain. Rory’s back muscles seize up and his shoulders grow stiff where he stands at the sink.