Page 274 of Rage

Holy shit.

“I havetwomates?” I ask, trying to keep the hope I’m feeling from becoming too apparent. I’m not supposed to let him know how shitty my life has been thus far.

Oliver nods. “I believe so. I guess we’ll know once you meet him. That is… if you want to.”

My head bobs fervently despite my attempts to keep myself in control. He has a life. A real life. And another mate. This is my way out. Out of the disgusting town I’ve been trapped in my whole life. Out of the despair of being a mutt. Out of the guilt and shame.

This is my new beginning.

They don’t know who I am or what I am. And they don’t need to. I’ll figure it out eventually—how to hide it from them. But for now, I just want to get the fuck out and find some peace for once.

“Of course I do!” I blurt.

Oliver chuckles. “Do you want to sit down? Get to know each other a bit before we move forward?”

As much as I don’t want to do that, I figure it makes more sense, so I nod my head, moving toward one of the comfortable chairs arranged in the room. Oliver follows behind me, giving me a respectful amount of space and opting for the chair across from me.

It’s odd, but I feel a lot more at ease with him having just met him than I ever did in that fucking house.

“I’m a software developer in the city, so I do work long hours, but I take a lot of time off too,” he tells me, settling himself back in the chair when the nurse comes to check on us and leaves us with some tea. Oliver thanks her before pouring me a cup and taking a tentative sip of his own. “Ewan is partial to staying home, so we haven’t traveled much, but I’m hoping maybe we can change that.”

“And what does he do?” I ask, holding the warm mug in my still-sweating hands.

Oliver smiles, but it’s slightly different, something seeming off about it as he answers. “Currently he’s been painting. Ewan is creative and though he worked as an art professor for years, he decided to retire early and now paints from home. You should know, he suffers from fairly significant panic attacks and agoraphobia, so he won’t be getting a job outside of the house again.”

“Oh,” I reply, unsure what to say. “That’s awful to hear. But he’s happy?”

“Of course he is,” Oliver responds—maybe too quickly? He’s obviously protective of his other mate. “He has a friend thatspends a lot of time with him. Ewan really is a wonderful soul, I’m sure you’ll love him.”

I nod, a little nervous when he asks me what I do. “Umm,” I begin. “Well, I’m in between jobs right now. Currently looking for a new one, but I don’t have a degree or many skills.”

Swallowing, I watch for his reaction, but Oliver just appears to relax a bit more. “No? You didn’t go to school?”

“No. I lived at home until I was twenty-one and then went to live with some friends this past year when my mother passed away. I—I come from a fairly closed-off community so I wasn’t allowed to work or go to school.”

It’s not entirely a lie. More a mix of a lie with some omission.

“Ahhh,” he replies. “Say no more. I’m aware of those little pockets that still exist. Old-world wolves, right?”

I bob my head repeatedly. “Yes.”

“No worries at all,” Oliver states. “I want you to rest assured, Ivy, I make enough money to take care of both you and Ewan without any concern. I know the bank only allows us this one meeting, but I wanted to extend the invitation for you to come stay with us as we get to know one another. We have a guest room, and there would be no expectations whatsoever.”

As crazy as I feel saying yes to him, I find my mouth forming the words. I can’t go back to the Forresters. I would rather die.

And those fuckers just won’t let me.

Chapter Four

Ivy

“So—umm—you paint?”

I want to slap my hand to my face when I ask the question, feeling like a fool. But it’s the only tidbit of information about Ewan I have, and I’m unbearably uncomfortable right now.

Oliver is watching us intently, sitting at the head of the table, with Ewan and I placed directly across from one another. His eyes are more black than brown now, and the weight of his stare is heavy, making me shift in my seat.

Ewan clears his throat, pushing his fork around in his bowl before twirling a noodle onto it. He glances up at me with warm hazel eyes before flitting his gaze back to his meal.

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