The Wolf Marshal's Pack (U.S. Marshal Shifters 3)

She handed him the next article of clothing: a pair of flannel pajama pants with little wreaths and reindeer on them.

“I was doing some last-minute holiday grocery shopping last year, and these were on sale. I just chucked them in the cart. They never fit—they’re too tight in the hips and about a mile too long.”

Colby looked at the pants in despair and then looked back at his mate. She was very clearly trying not to laugh at him.

“It’s a good thing I l—” He stopped. “It’s a good thing I like you so much.”

“You said anything would work,” Aria reminded him. She looked way too innocent.

“I didn’t know clearance reindeer were a possibility!”

“I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I really don’t have anything else that would fit. I didn’t deliberately bring you terrible pajama pants, I’m just... enjoying it.”

And since he’d trashed her living room beyond recognition and left a dead werewolf by her fireplace, maybe he owed her a little bit of entertainment. She’d been spending most of today scared, stressed, and thinking she was alone with her secret about Eli Hebbert’s true nature. She needed a break.

And if seeing him in the reindeer pants would make her feel better, then he would damn well wear the reindeer pants.

It’s important to sacrifice for our mate, his wolf said. It sounded genuinely unbothered. Besides, all human clothes are ridiculous.

This is why no one ever asks wolves their opinions on fashion, Colby thought at it, mentally rolling his eyes in his wolf’s direction while he... donned him now his gay apparel, wasn’t that how the song went?

The reindeer pants might have been a mile too long on Aria, but they turned into capris on him, with the cuffs hovering just above his ankles.

And, since they’d been sized for a woman’s body, they were way too tight in certain places—which really wasn’t good when he was a newly-mated wolf currently in sexual hyper-drive. And around his mate’s family. He pushed the waistband of the pants down as low as he thought he could get away with. It made him feel like a teenager, but at least it gave him a little more room.

Aria had mercy on him. The shirt she’d brought him was a massively oversized college tee, the kind women intentionally bought huge so they could wear them as cozy nightgowns.

So now he was a werewolf in reindeer pants and a purple Wellesley T-shirt.

“I’m sorry about the women’s college thing too,” Aria said.

“Don’t be, I like it. It’s a great school. People will know I have a smart—” He had to do another split-second adjustment. “Girlfriend.”

Mate, his wolf growled.

Humans don’t know what that means! Not really!

It licked its paws. I’m sure our mate, who went to this “great school” you’re talking about, is smart enough to learn a new word. Especially one you’ve already said to her.

He had the feeling he’d just lost an intellectual argument to a wolf.

What a weird day.

He said, “Um. If you want to be my girlfriend, anyway.”

His wolf covered its eyes with one paw.

Aria somehow managed to listen to that with a straight face, and she didn’t even react like she was talking to an idiot high school kid (in reindeer pants). Her eyes were sparkling.

“I haven’t done much dating lately,” she said, “but I thought the new thing was to play it super-cool and refuse to ‘put labels’ on anything.” Her luscious mouth curved upwards. “I like this better. I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

Colby couldn’t stop his own smile, and he didn’t want to.

“Good. Because I’m not really that cool.” He looked down at what he was wearing. “It has more of an impact when I say that when I’m wearing a leather jacket and a gun.”

At least his gun and badge had survived his transformation. He could clip them on again—and watch as their weight pulled his pants the rest of the way down.

Aria leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.