Page 58 of Wrestling With Werewolves

I’ve never read a romance novel. Sounds fun, though.

I can’t think of a response, but I pray Richard does. Thankfully, he comes to my rescue.

“Thank you, Maren. We won’t keep you, but can I do anything for either of you? Grocery run? Ice cream from Scoops or candy from Miriam’s? I’ll drive you up to the community garden if you’d like to visit with the pixies.”

Maren shakes her head, placing a hand over her mate’s. “We’re going to stick close to home today, Alpha, but thank you.” She smiles at us again. “I can see that, for some reason, you’re hiding an obvious connection. But we of all people know how quickly life can be ripped from you.” Her expression becomes intense and serious. “Don’t let anyone steal a single moment of a single day from you. Take every one for yourself. Live every single one to the very fullest.”

Tears fill my eyes as her message sinks in. She’s right, of course. Politics and my father be damned. He’s going to lose his mind about Richard and me, but should that stop us from pursuing a bond so deep and revered that our people speak about it in hushed, awed tones?

I wipe another bead of sweat from my brow as Richard places a hand on the middle of my back, rubbing a soft circle.

He manages to extricate us from the conversation as I muddle my way through a farewell that probably makes no sense. By the time we get to the street, Richard’s hand has slid to the back of my jeans, where he hangs on to one loop.

When Leighton’s parents’ treehouse closes the door behind us, he presses me to it, his hand sliding around my front and up my shirt to rest flat on my belly.

“They’re right, you know,” he murmurs.

I glance up and down the street, but it’s quiet. There’s nobody around. Still, nervous tension has me amped and sweaty, my muscles trembling slightly. I feel…off-kilter. Like things are happening so fast. Finding my mate so early in life should be a joyous event, but we’re hiding behind politics, and I hate that. Mostly, I dread letting the cat out of the bag with Papá. It’s not going to go well; that’s one thing I can count on.

The need to shout to the world about Richard and me is strong and I can’t.

“Let’s get you home,” he whispers in my ear. “Just because they can tell doesn’t mean everybody can tell.”

“That’s not it,” I whine quietly. “I want to tell everyone, and I hate that we can’t, even if I think we were right to decide that. I want to be free,” I admit. “I want to make choices about my life that don’t take shifter politics into account at all.”

Richard grits his jaw and strokes my curls away from my face. “I will fight every second of every day for you to have that, sweetheart. Every second, do you hear me?”

I press into him, dropping my forehead to his chest where I bury my nose in hard muscle and soft hair. Moons, he smells so intensely delicious. Slick wets my thighs as his scent fills my senses.

“Lola,” he huffs.

“I know,” I whine.

“C’mon,” he says again, pulling away from me.

My wolf lets out a pitiful groan in my mind, which pulls Big Daddy’s green to the front of Richard’s eyes.

He huffs. “Swear to the goddess, once the three of you can talk together, this is gonna get wild.”

I stare deep into that luminescent green, willing Big Daddy to hear me, and since I know he can, I speak to him directly. “I can’t wait to hear you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited for anything in my life. And I don’t know what the Luna bond means, precisely, but I’m excited to figure it out together.”

Richard lets out a soft growl, stepping closer again. Voices drift toward us from up the street. We move away from one another and head back toward my place. I’m probably making it more obvious that I want to touch him with the way I fold my arms around my body, keeping my hands close to me so I don’t reach over.

It was easier in the very beginning when he touched me the same way he touched everyone. But now that touch means something more.

We round the last bend toward the main drag, and Connall’s standing there with the elemental sylph, Dirk. Connall’s stance is wide, fists balled as he glares at the slightly shorter male.

“What’s going on here?” Richard’s alpha tone hits Connall and me the exact same way.

Dirk, on the other hand, looks up with a bored expression. “Hello there, yer mightiness. I was jest tellin’ Connall he ought to offer his services to Louanna, on account of him being classically trained as a therapist and all.” His expression goes tight. “She needs help, Richard. She can’t deal with her part in Leighton’s death without assistance, and I think Connall’s the best one to help her.”

My heart clenches thinking about Lou, my new friend. She hasn’t talked much about what happened with the warlock Wesley. I only know because of Connall and Richard in the first place.

Connall turns to Richard and crosses his arms. “Please inform Dirk that I’m certified as a counselor for shifters and equinoids, not humans.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dirk states, matching his stance to Connall’s. “It’s gotta be yeh.”

It’s easy to see that Connall doesn’t want to do this, for whatever reason. If Lou needs help, and it sounds like she does, her therapist should be someone ready and willing to help her. I give Dirk what I hope is an understanding look. “I can recommend several wonderful counselors at home in Santa Alaya, if you think Lou would be willing to travel. But Connall would know best if he’s equipped to help her.”

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