Page 145 of The Wolf in My Tavern

Ada

As the men fall into conversation, Betsy, with the mischievous grin that I have missed dearly, draws me aside. “I’ve got something for you,” she says, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and affection, reminding me of our shared history.

Taking my hand in hers, she guides me out the back, up a narrow staircase, to a private day room.

It is homely, with a table before a broad, leaded window, soft rugs underfoot, and a vase of wildflowers resting on a side table to the right of the door. A wicker basket filled with soft-looking throws sits to the side of an oversized carver chair. A few ornaments adorn shelves, there is a mantlepiece with a clock on it over the fireplace, which is currently unlit.

She walks over to a bookshelf and runs her fingers along the spines before selecting one and drawing it out.

Turning to me, she holds out the book.

My breath catches as I see the familiar picture on the cover. Hands shaking, I accept it with all the reverence it deserves.

It takes me back to a time when my life was bleak. This book represented a dream. I would run my fingers over the pictures, admiring the forest, imagining all the creatures that might live there, how magical such a place might be away from the stench of the fish market, and where I did not live in fear of my father with his ready fist.

The night before my father sold me, I dreamed of a princess living in a castle like the one in the pictures and how we were connected because we lived under the same moon.

I did not know then that life-changing events awaited me, that as I clung to a young tavern lass in a horrible place, awaiting a terrible fate, a story might unfold leading me to the here and now—a tavern called The Green Man in a little village called Blue Bell on the border where Hydornia meets the shifter packs.

Never could I have envisioned that I might find such a life as I have, not as a princess in a fancy castle, but something every bit as wondrous as a mate to two shifters with a babe due in the spring.

“You brought my book?” I am choked with emotion.

She hugs me, smiling as I wipe happy tears from my cheeks.

“There, as if I would do aught else when I know how you loved it. You know Callum can read. Happen he could teach you so you can read it for yourself. It is a lovely story intended for children. How wonderful would it be to share it with the little ones when they come along?”

“Oh, yes,” I agree.

Callum

Ada returns from her chat with Betsy, flushed and a little teary, which worries me until I see the book she has clutched to her chest.

“She brought your book?” I say, grinning as she slips between Gray and me. She shows Gray her prized possession, which he admires as a dutiful mate should.

“Will you teach me to read?” she asks me.

“Of course,” I say, pressing a kiss to her temple, thinking of the night when I found it and how she once lived. Gray and I are shameless in spoiling her, ensuring her every comfort is met. It is no less than she deserves. I’d thought the book to be lost and, knowing how much it meant to her, I had spoken to Gray about it, with a mind to finding her some new ones. “There is a trader due at the end of the month. Gray mentioned he often has books in his wagon. Maybe we could start a collection. You will need more than one book if you are going to learn to read.”

My reward is her throwing her arms around my neck and peppering kisses all over my face.

Gray gives me a look. I smirk. We are still fucking competitive where her affection is concerned, but I have learned there are benefits to sharing a lass and that I do not get less, but unexpectedly more.

“You better give Gray some love, too. It was his idea that we speak to the trader.”

She promptly throws her small arms around Gray’s neck and peppers him with kisses.

We enjoy the meal and a couple of ales over companionable conversations. When we finally leave, the sun is setting. They are not so far away; we promise to return as often as duties permit.

It is dark by the time we arrive back at Ludstone, passing through the main cavern and on to our quarters. A stack of fresh pelts rests on the bottom of the bed—soft things that omegas like to place on their nests.

Nests offer an omega comfort. But they are also a place for rutting.

Gray cups the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing up the side of her throat, touching the place where he left his mark.

On the other side is my mark.

I feel the heat between us. Gray and I are already naked, having shifted. But Ada is wearing too many clothes.

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