Page 86 of Mated to the Wolves

The black-haired boy with amber eyes takes after his mother. Shorter, and thin, he’s got the elfin look of one who’s been touched by the fairy folk.

“I figured you’d be too embarrassed given how you tormented your future mate.”

Bo’s hand wraps around his brother’s throat. He presses Brooks against the wall.

The others surround us, blocking the confrontation from prying eyes.

“Little brother, you know better than to test waters too deep for you to swim in. Because we’re family, I’ll let it slide this once. But if you ever bring up my past with my mate or question the bond we’re creating, you’re going to regret it.” Bo tightens his hold. Veins in his hands stand out, and his eyes narrow to slits, the brown nearly black as he stares at his brother emotionlessly. His lips thin and his jaw turns to granite.

His brothers’ face turns red.

“Understand?”

“Yes,” Brooks rasps.

Bo releases him, and steps back, straightening his clothing before he slaps his cheek, with a sadistic grin. “Spread the word. Ylva is off limits.”

“You’re crazy.” Brooks he hurries away.

“Nice chatting with you, Brookie.” Bo waves.

Shivering I watch him flee from his own kin. I’m mated to a monster. But he’s willing to protect me at all costs. Does that make his actions justifiable?

“So much for lying low,” Fell says.

“That never works for anyone in the long run. Better to set boundaries early on. You look parched, Princess. Let’s grab you a drink.” He leads us to a server carrying a black tray full of champagne glasses. Snagging two, he hands me one and downs his own.

“That’s better.” He replaces his glass while I sip from mine and the others grab one for themselves.

The amount of money being worn by the people around us could feed a family of four for a year. It looks more like a fundraising event than an old Norse celebration.

The divide is clear as the old families gather in small clusters that everyone else moves around.

“You look stunning tonight.”

I turn to the kind, familiar voice and grin.

“Jen,” I’m relieved to see the friendly face of the perky blonde who’d helped me find new clothing.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m the one who chose it.”

I laugh, “Job well done.”

“Yes. Keep dressing her like this and we’ll never want to take her to anyone else,” Bo agrees.

Jen claps her hands. “That’s my plan. I wanted to make sure everything fits well.”

“It was perfect, Jen,” I assure her.

“Good. I’m going to make my rounds and use you as my muse for the night. If anyone asks.”

“I’ll let them know you were the genius behind the look.”

“That’s my girl.” She winks, stalking away on four-inch black stilettos that match the mid-thigh sparkly number molded to her body like a second skin.

“Jen is a force.” Bo laughs.

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