Page 57 of Never Submit

Only now it’s like whatever powered me through it is totally, utterly, depleted. I got back here all hyped up on adrenaline and panic, and once it filtered out, I slept the entire night.

I need some positivity today. And a metric butt-ton of coffee in order to charge my veins.

The change… I guess there’s no kind of manual that tells you how much it takes out of you.

No one tells you the cost.

Human.

I’ve always been human. I’ve lived my entire life that way, knowing I had a deadline to expiration, just like fucking milk, and half believing in legends. Now I’m one of them.

How did it happen?

And more importantly, why? I haven’t had a chance to ask that question yet, but it’s the one most worth knowing. Why did the Moonstone sink into my skin and why did it change me into a white wolf?

After sex in the billiard room, Noble took me back to his room and snuggled beside me on the bed. Real Big Spoon kind of energy, and with him wrapped around me, with his seed inside me, I dropped into sleep like a stone down a deep well.

By the time I wake up, Noble is already gone, although his side of the bed is warm. He hasn’t been gone long.

I stretch my arms overhead, jaw dropping on a yawn, my body deliciously used and sore in the best kind of way.

Sunlight filters in through the sheer curtains on the other side of the room. It’s clean, though, I see through bleary eyes. There aren’t the typical piles of laundry and shit everywhere that I kinda expect out of men.

At least, that’s how all my exes lived.

Maybe it’s a character flaw for them. Or maybe wolves are much neater than regular dudes.

Either way, I like Noble’s room, the warm tones and the comfortable bedding. I like that it smells like him and I want to curl up in his blankets, light a candle, and make a nest.

I struggle out of bed and although my arms tremble a little, at least every movement isn’t as tough. My legs are a little wobbly, and my head takes a nice dive before soaring up to the ceiling.

For a few breaths, I feel like it’s every case of the flu I’ve ever had converged into one and hammering me at the same time. The feeling dissipates after a time.

Okay, no repeats of that. Not fun.

My stomach swirls but growls. A little something to eat might do the trick. Something like bread. Or cheese.

Breadandcheese. And the biggest portion of chips I’ve ever eaten in my life. Ooh, or french fries.

I’ve never been in the kitchen in this place but wolves gotta eat. Don’t they? I bet they eat a lot. Like huge walk-in freezers with whole deer hanging from hooks kind of thing. Or cows. What do wolves eat?

Hysterical laughter bubbles up.

I push my hair out of my face, searching for a scrunchy or something to tie it back. There’s one in the nightstand drawer along with a few sheets of paper and neat writing in black lines.

Noble’s signature is at the bottom and a flash of guilt has me stuffing the papers back in place.

I might be his mate, but I’m not really comfortable snooping. Yet. Maybe I’ll change my mind after I eat.

My shirt from last night is absolutely ruined. So I’m forced to snoop a little bit to find something else to wear.

After using the bathroom, I pull on a clean set of panties and the leggings from yesterday, along with what looks like an old college hoodie.

Half of my mind heads toward Carrigan and Aspen, the last time we were all together. Laughing, drinking. Eating nothing but shit and gossiping as we did so. I’m willing to bet dollars to donuts that Torin doesn’t have any kind of junk food lying around. He doesn’t seem the type.

His idea of indulging is probably filet mignon and caviaror some shit like that.

What would the men think if I told them that, growing up, I’d been absolutely apeshit for plain bologna sandwiches on white bread with plenty of mayonnaise? They’d laugh at me.

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