Page 117 of Oath of Revenge

“Fuck, Scarlet, don’t flex or we’ll fuck through dinner.”

She grinned and squeezed him again. “Now there’s the perfect excuse to skip this awful dinner.”

He chuckled and pulled out, grabbing a handkerchief and cleaning her until she took it from him. It was one of the many things he loved about her. She wasn’t delicate and could take him, rough edges and all. Sometimes she’d let him take care of her, and sometimes she had no patience for him. It was adorable.

Wulfric tucked himself into his pants, his new boots pinching his feet. The need to hold her pressed on him, and he turned to her. “Scarlet—“

A knock interrupted him, and Scarlet fiddled with her hem, shaking the skirt out.

“Come in,” she called absently.

A servant came in to style her hair, and Wulfric sighed, turning on his heel and walking to the adjoining sitting room to wait. The way the servant kept looking at him, he knew he made them uncomfortable. They hadn’t warmed up a lot, although one of the Growlers had made friends in the kitchen.

Like always, his mind turned to Scarlet. How could he provide for her, convince her to come back to the tribe and live with him for good. They hadn’t really discussed it since he’d found her at the cottage, but he knew she was still wary and nervous. He wanted to hold her and make her see that if they were together, it would be alright. Love would see them through a lot.

He loved her. Of course, he fucking loved her. She was his mate. She had to choose him, didn’t she?

Although… he’d heard of other mates completing the process and then living separately. Some even claimed to be enemies, which he couldn’t imagine. Scarlet was everything.

None of it would matter if he didn’t secure this treaty though. If Knox’s people approved it, he could build her a home where she’d smile and laugh at the end of a long mission as a Hunter. Maybe he could build all the Growlers homes so they’d be solidified as one people. It was something Knox had said yesterday that had made him think about it.

If they had family left in Busparia, those family members would want homes like those they were used to. They’d not want tents or a nomadic lifestyle. The Growlers were going to have to adapt, but hopefully without losing their lifestyles and traditions. It’d be complicated to navigate, and he hoped Scarlet would help him with it.

Her hand on his back brought him to the present, and he smiled down at her.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly, her hair now braided in tiny braids and piled into some complicated bun between her antlers.

He nodded and winced. “Yes, there’s just a lot riding on this treaty. Everyone’s counting on me.”

Her jaw tilted, and she got that stubborn glint in her eye. “So let’s go make it happen.” And with that, she spun on her heel—still her normal well-worn but polished boots—and strode to the door, her skirts tangling around her ankles.

She cursed as she stumbled, and he prowled after her. By the time she settled her skirts, he held the door open and offered his arm.

“My lady,” he growled with a bow.

She flushed and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Don’t be ridiculous, Wulfric.”

He smiled but didn’t reply as they walked slowly down the hallway to the stairs.

They reached the parlor without incident and stopped in the open doorway. A dozen other fancily dressed men and women stood around the room, conversing quietly. Then two of them stepped away from a couch, and his breath caught.

A black-haired beauty with ruby red lips sat with queenly grace, her red and blue dress flattering her curves. Her light blue eyes swung to his, and her jaw dropped. They were almost white, they were so bright. His head flashed, and he reached for his temple.

A disheveled little girl stood in the stables, sniffling as she brushed some lord’s horse behind the tavern. The cook had come to fetch him after her bathroom break to say some brat was hiding, and sure enough, here she was.

But as he stepped closer and lifted the lantern, her light blue eyes flashed and the light of the lantern swayed with her magic. She sniffed and frowned, backing into the corner.

“You’re not going to make me go back, are you?” Her voice was small, but her diction perfect for an aristocrat.

He sat down the lantern outside the stall and draped his arms over the stall door, crossing at the elbows and leaning his chin on his arms.

“Well, that depends on who you are, what you want, and what you’re avoiding.”

She sniffed again, hiding behind the mare. He sighed, “Come on then, I don’t have all day. Customers are bound to get into a scuffle this time of night. Isn’t it past your bedtime, little girl?”

She came around the mare with arms waving, but the horse didn’t seem to mind. Light flickered off the ceiling as she spoke. “If my bed was safe, I’d be there, now wouldn’t I?”

She burrowed deeper against the stable wall, shadows nearly swallowing her. He wanted to beat up whoever threatened her, but if he did that for every lost soul who came to the tavern, he’d be away from the tavern all day, everyday.

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