Page 67 of Never Submit

“When was the last time you got to see your human friends?” she asks. “I’m sorry if it’s prying but I’m curious.” She glances at me. “I’d like us to be friends. If you’re okay with it?”

I smile at her, briefly, something in me softening. “It’s a long story. I’m not sure you want to hear it. Let’s just say things were complicated when I first got tangled up with the men.”

Flora nods understandingly. “And I’m sure they are only going to get more complicated with your mate bonds.”

“Singular,” I correct. “I only have one.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. I knew that.”

Flora navigates through streets until the scenery outside the window changes. Becomes more like the downtrodden dregs of society I’m used to seeing rather than the prim and proper steel uptown. Torin’s world versus mine.

I’m surprised Flora knows how to get to Rudy’s Bar. Unless she has a GPS tucked up there with her, one I can’t see.

Flora chatters away merrily through the rest of the drive until we pull up to the curb outside of the familiar scarred front door.

“If you want to clear the air and talk to them, then there’s no time like the present. The alphas will be busy battling each other in a pissing contest for hours, and we are safe to play while they’re distracted,” Flora continues.

I can’t stop staring at that door. Tears pool in my eyes, a combination of misery and excitement, knowing that beyond the door is a familiar room filled with familiar faces I’m not sure I’m ready to see.

I’m different now.

They’re the same, but I’ve been reborn.

“Come on.”

Flora urges me out of the truck and stands at the door, shivering in the cold, waiting for me to make a move.

“You've got the wrong clothes on,” I tell her.

She glances down at her dress, decorated in white and pink flowers, the brown tips ofsturdy boots peeking out from underneath the fabric. “I run hot. I’m not shivering for the reason you think I am. It’s not the cold.”

“Then what is it?”

“Humans.”

Her answer is simple and chilling. Something I never thought about before. In all the stories, the wolves are the bad guys, and the humans are defending themselves against teeth and claws. Aren’t they?

Flora’s fingers are light on my back as she propels me through the door.

I used to wear a cheap wedding band to keep unwanted advances at bay. But Mathis called me on it, called itfake shit, and crushed the ring into a mangled twist of metal.

Now I’ve come back and Flora is my shield. Which totally isn’t fair to ask of a pregnant woman. Wolf. Whatever.

The stench of old frying oil burns the inside of my nose the second I’m over the threshold, so much more pungent than ever before. I gag, my stomach constricting painfully, and I press both hands against it.

Did I simply forget how bad it reeks in here? Or is it somehow worse now than when I left?

“You have to try and tune it out. Things are going to be more sensitive for you now,” Flora warns. “Trust me, I understand.”

Her voice is nearly lost behind the throbbing of my heart. I’ve noticed how strong some scents are since my change, but damn, this goes beyond the pale.

I always said we served deep-fried heart attacks and cheap drinks in this place, and I never felt more right than I did now, with Flora guiding me over the chunks of peanut shells on the floor.

I really liked the anonymity when working here.How I could be anyone I wanted to be once I put on an apron. But there’s no fake wedding ring around my left finger to twist now, not anymore. Nothing except Flora to keep away the perverts.

“Holy damn, is that who I think it is?” someone calls out. One of our usual patrons at the bar who has a perpetual seat with his name on it swivels around to face me.

Head high, I make my way toward the swinging doors separating the front room from the back, and stop halfway. If the smells are bad here, they’re going to be devastating in the kitchen.

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