Page 40 of The Wolf's Mate

“So why haven’t they left yet?” Rip asks what we all want to know.

“We believe, and maybe Healer Lucielle can help confirm this, the bites from the rogues caused the curse to set in on these wolves. This is a new and very concerning development.”

Everyone stiffens at the news. It’s like a punch to the gut. Fighting rogues now would be nearly impossible. Lucielle doesn’t look surprised though, just sad. “I feared this would be the next natural progression. If you can take me to a patient, I can start my assessment.”

“Do you need anything from me, Lucielle?” Rip asks as I squeeze his hand gently.

The beta woman sighs and shakes her head. “Prayers, King Alpha. I need your prayers.”

Sweat pours from my face. I shrug off my coat, letting it fall to the ground. The cool air provides me an instant reprieve, and I bring the ax down on the marked target again. It’s off by a quarter of an inch, and I groan. That’s the closest I’ve made it, but the weight of the ax is throwing me off.

“That’s not bad,” Rip says, checking my mark. Effortlessly, he pulls out my ax from the wood, handing it back to me like it weighs little more than a feather. To him, it probably does. But I feel like my arms are about to fall off when he hands it over.

We’ve been at this for over an hour now, though I swear it feels like weeks. “I better have the strongest fucking arms after this,” I mutter, groaning as I heave the ax over my shoulder.

Rip smirks. “You’ll be a fierce warrior.”

Not yet, but Rip is determined I become one. After hearing the news about our wolves yesterday at the infirmary, he got it into his mind that I need to become a damn Olympic lumberjack and insisted I learn how to use this weapon. I argued for a lighter weapon, like a dagger or a gun, but they had none—so I’m stuck with this hefty thing. The last two days have been ax training sessions, which have left my body sore in places I didn’t even know could get sore.

“Try again.” Rip points to the red X he painted on a tree trunk. “Right in the center.”

“I’ll ax you right in the center,” I mutter.

“What was that, Dove?”

“Nothing, Alpha,” I say sweetly—too sweetly.

Rip just smirks and gestures for me to go on. “This will be the last one. Then you can rest,” he promises.

Despite the way my arms scream in protest, I raise them above my head. I keep the red X in my line of vision, focusing all my attention on it. And then I bring the ax down hard, splintering the wood in the very center of the X.

I beam up at Rip, who returns the bright smile. Something akin to pride shines in his eyes, and I soak in the delight. “Good job, Hettie. If your target remains in a seated position, you’ll for sure hit them every time.”

My smile instantly vanishes, along with the fuzzy thoughts of my husband. “Asshole. I was actually starting to like you there for a minute.”

“Well, let me make it up to you,” Rip suggests.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” I raise my brow, crossing my arms over my chest. It only pushes up my boobs, and I see the moment Rip notices this as well. He takes in his fill and lets me know he’s looking too.

Finally, the man seems to remember the boobs are attached to a person and lifts his head to meet my gaze. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

I roll my eyes. “We have dinner together every night.”

“No,” he says. “We have dinner together with Thorn, Tallie, my Aunt Imelda, and sometimes others. I want you to myself tonight.”

Well, that is different. He’s right, though. It’s never just the two of us. We always have others around us for dinner, and I’ve never complained. But…if this whole marriage thing is going to work, we need time just for us that doesn’t involve lying in the same bed together.

The answer is easy. “Yes, Rip. I would love to have dinner with you tonight.”

The boyish grin that spreads across his face has me giggling. Giggling. Like a damn school girl who just spoke to her first crush. “Happiness looks good on you, Rip,” I beam once I’m able to control myself.

“Something else will look good on me too.” Just like that, the boyish grin is gone, replaced by a seductive smirk that has my panties flooded. He stares at me like he’s undressing me with his eyes. Normally this makes me uncomfortable, but with Rip? I feel desired.

Suddenly Rip’s gaze snaps away from me, and he straightens his posture, becoming a stoic alpha once again. My brow furrows, and I turn to see what caught his attention.

Standing a few feet away from me is a woman who looks to be around my age. She’s tan, with beautiful chocolate-brown hair that hangs down her back in natural curls. Despite the crisp air, the woman only wears a thin dress. On her hip is a child who can’t be any older than two years old, snuggling into his mother happily.

“King Alpha Rip. Queen Luna Hettie,” she greets both of us, bowing her head in respect. Rip mimics her motions, and I stand there like a moron. This is the first time I’ve heard someone call me a queen, and it feels…right.

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