Page 21 of The Wolf's Mate

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I have to press my thighs together at the image of Rip bending me over his bed and spanking me. It’s equal parts humiliating and sexy. “Don’t call me Dove,” I murmur, not wanting to give away how much his words affect me.

But does this newfound bond make him feel my emotions? I don’t know how to shield them like he does. I should probably add that to my to-do list.

“I think I quite like it, actually. Dove seems fitting.”

My scowl only deepens, and Rip stops when he approaches Tallie and Thorne. “You’ll handle things tomorrow while Hettie and I are occupied?” he asks.

Occupied? Occupied doing what?

Tallie nods. “Of course. We can handle everything for a day. Oh, and, Hettie, I’ll keep Grass with me tonight, if that’s alright. He seemed pretty content lounging by the fire.”

I forgot Grass stayed behind at Tallie’s house. He’s loving being the center of attention and spoiled by everyone he passes. I have yet to see another dog here, so I’m thinking Grass might be the only one. And I’m sure he will be more than fine with that.

“Thank you. He’s always up early expecting to eat, though.”

“So is Thorne.” Tallie smiles. Thorne laughs, squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

For a moment, I allow myself to imagine a love so pure and strong, like the one I can see between Thorne and Tallie. I’m not a jealous person, despite how hard my former boyfriends tried to make me, but looking at them, all I can feel is the intense need to have what they have.

“Congratulations. I think you’ll make a fine Luna, Hettie.” Thorne smiles and leads Tallie away, presumably back home. Imelda isn’t far behind them, leaving Rip and me alone.

“That’s really all there is to it?” I ask, unable to hide my disappointment. I expected…more.

Rip starts walking, and I’m pulled along with him. “What were you expecting?”

“I…” What was I expecting? Music. Maybe more people in attendance. A slow dance? “I don’t know.”

“What do humans do for mating?” he sounds genuinely curious.

“Well, we don’t mate. We just call it getting married so you can become spouses. There’s a big ceremony, an outrageously expensive white dress, and vows from the two getting married. Then afterwards, there’s a big reception for family and friends to dance, eat, and celebrate.”

“Was that what you wanted? A reception? Dancing?”

“I…guess not. It’s just different.”

Rip stays silent for a long time after, and I think the conversation is over until he says, “Our ceremony wasn’t typical. The bonding between the King Alpha and his Luna is usually an all-day celebration. Perhaps more like you were expecting.” He pauses but doesn’t look at me. “But we don’t have the luxury of a grand ceremony. Not with Michael and…”

He trails off, so close to saying more, but leaving me without answers again. “Michael and what? Why couldn’t we do the big ceremony? Are you ashamed of me?”

“No.” The word comes out harsher than I expect, and I flinch. Rip notices and narrows his eyes. “That is the second time you’ve flinched around me. Do you want to tell me why?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to tell me about Michael and the dangers we are apparently facing?” I shoot back, mostly so I don’t have to speak on things I would much rather keep buried. Rip looks like he wants to pry more, but wisely drops it. I’m not naive enough to think it’s for good though.

“You’ll learn everything you need to know about the pack starting tomorrow, Dove,” he says, once again with the stupid nickname.

I don’t realize we’ve made it back to the packhouse until we are walking up the stairs. Two guards open the front door for us, both nodding respectfully at Rip, who acknowledges them with a slight dip of his head. One man’s eyes go to my neck and widen when he sees the bite. It must be a sight to see. I feel it throbbing, but it’s not really painful anymore.

“Luna,” he says in a hasty greeting, bowing formally and pulling the other guard down to join him.

“Erm, you don’t have to do that,” I say.

“Yes, they do.” Rip gives the men a once-over before pulling me through the door, past the confused stares of his men. He walks me up the grand staircase, lit with oil lamps, and leads me to our room.

“Do you think I should put bandages on my neck or?—”

“No bandages,” he growls. “It’s already healing. People need to see my mark on you.”

“I think it’s grossly unfair that I have to wear your damn mark, but you don’t have a mark on your body. Pretty damn sexist, if you ask me.”

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