Page 11 of Fated to the Warrior Wolf

He’s not our mate, though. And one of these days, he’ll find that fated mate and leave us high and dry,I scolded her.

She huffed at me, but didn’t deign to respond.

I closed my eyes and let it be what it was. Comfort betweentwo pack mates and nothing more. I couldn’t let it be more than that. My heart just couldn’t take it.

To my eternal surprise, though, he didn’t push for more. Didn’t push for deep conversation, answers, or anything that brought me stress. He held my hand, asked me if I wanted anything else to drink, and just…was. He existed at my side, a staunch presence when I desperately needed one.

The rumble was pretty damn nice, I had to admit.

Within an hour, I was fast asleep.

The joltof aircraft wheels on tarmac made me cringe awake.

“It’s okay. We’re just stopping for fuel before we head across the Atlantic.”

Gael’s voice was a soothing murmur, and when I let my eyes crack open, I was shocked to see he was exactly where I’d left him several hours back. I carefully extricated my fingers from his under the guise of needing to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

I wasn’t sure what to do withsweetGael. Even the one night we’d spent together had been more of a wild clash of bodies, desperate and needy, than anything sweet or loving.

A rush of heat to my core reminded me that I couldn’t afford to think too long on those memories, not right now. Thinking about that night would lead to more bad decisions, and I had a daughter to think about now.

Holy shit.

If Brielle was right—and as far-fetched as it was, I had no evidence to the contrary to make menotbelieve her—I was right, and Petal was a daughter.

Tears welled up in my eyes at the realization, and I hastily swiped them away.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again? Does something hurt?”

Gael’s panic was palpable, an alpha male on high alert for hidden danger.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just processing, that’s all.” I sniffed hard, determined to get my wayward emotions under control.

That was harder to do with the pregnancy hormones, and I didn’t like not feeling likeme. I was a levelheaded person, even if I tended to use sarcasm and humor as coping mechanisms at inappropriate times.

“Processing?”

The look of confusion as he blinked rapidly as if I’d just said something in another language would have made me laugh hysterically in just about any other situation. The idea of a woman crying to process emotions was apparently completely foreign to him.

“Yes, processing. That thing where you think about the shitload of new information that was just dropped in your lap and experience feelings.”

He was quiet for a moment, and all desire to laugh flew out the window as his expression grew serious.

“You’re upset about the baby? Is that why you sent me away?”

Shit. Not the takeaway I’d expected him to get from that. But he was dead serious, from the tense line of his shoulders to the downtick of his mouth, I couldseethe distraught reaction in his body.

“No, I’m not upset, I just— It’s a lot, okay? We’re not mates. This shouldn’t have been able to happen. I mean, I wasn’t in heat, we’re not bonded, and I’m way too young to expect any of this.” I blew out a shaky breath as I gestured to my still-flat stomach, finding myself feeling steadier now that I was processing out loud.

He nodded, but didn’t say a word to interrupt, letting me word vomit it all out.

“I expected to find a mate first, have a few decades together before a heat hit, and we had a shot at pregnancy. You know how it goes.” I waited for confirmation and got a tight nod in response. “So I’m not upset, just shocked, I guess? I love her already, so don’t go thinking anything otherwise.”

He rocked back, his shoulders plastering against the seat with a soft smack.

“What is it?”

“It’s a girl.” He ran his hands through his hair, looking truly shell-shocked for the first time.

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