Page 94 of Mated to the Wolves

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Cupping the mug try to ward off the cold emanating from within the events from the previous night replay in my head. Alpha had all but offered me up on a silver platter.

An unmated wolf in heat is a beacon to any alpha who thinks he can claim her. Why issue me mates at all?

“Hey.”

Jerking, I slosh the hot café latte liquid over the rim of the mug with a cat with a red polka dot bowtie.

“Sorry. I was trying not to do that.” Kirk grabs a paper towel and bends down to wipe up my mess. “How are you feeling?”

“Numb.” I admire his firm ass and sculpted pecs in the white T-shirt and red flannel pants.

“That’s normal after a traumatic experience.” He stands and pitches the paper towel into the trash.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“I’ll cook something. Everyone should be up soon and we’ll talk.”

“You didn’t seem surprised last night when things went haywire.” I recall the events. “What made you bring that emergency pill?”

“Alpha doesn’t always fight fair. When he’s cornered his methods are questionable, and his hold

has been slipping for a while which makes him desperate.” Kirk gathers eggs and other ingredients.

“Let me help.” I set my coffee aside, wash my hands, and grab a cutting board. “My omelet making skills are sub-par. Let me be your sous chef.”

“I think I’d like that.” He yields. I accept the victory. Used to being alone, my hermit healer has the tendency to fade into the background and keep to himself until he’s needed.

I rinse off the veggies, grab a pepper, and start chopping.

“He seemed pleased when he announced our mating. What’s changed?”

“I think it’d take more than rumors for him to make a move like this. But I can’t say for sure. I’ll ask around.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” I set down my knife.

He offers a tiny smile. “I have a few connections I can tap into. Don’t worry.”

I resume dicing, and the others begin to stir. Lining the buffet-style omelet ingredients on the counter, I set the table.

“How’d you sleep last night?” Cadoc asks, walking in to the room.

“Poorly. I kept dreaming about my house.” I set down the last fork and admire his rumpled appearance.

He’s adorably mused in his navy-blue t-shirt and mesh black shorts.

“What about it?” Cadoc rumbles.

“I can’t remember.” I peer out the window.

“I saw the house, and smelled smoke.” I frown. “The rest is blank.”

“Is that normal for you?” Kirk asks. “Dreaming about it, I mean?”

“It happens now and then.” I stare at the warped skin on my forearms. “It’s not like I can ever forget.”

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