Page 69 of Wanted By the Wolves

The place looks as if it’s been covered in omega confetti. Soup bubbles on the stove, and the kitchen island is covered in small moon cakes and loaves of braided bread. She’s been nesting today, not only in her actual nest but throughout the house.

My alpha rumbles his approval, enamored with our omega and her den. Mako told me once that an alpha will never know a better home than with their omega. I thought he meant the house. I can admit that I longed for the physical place as much as the mythical person. A home meant a place where Briggs and I belonged. Even in Mako’s house, I never felt like I do now—settled deep inside.

It isn’t because of the cabin or the fact that Nova is cooking for us. It’s not even from the comfort of the lush blankets in hernest. Briggs and I have lived on our own for most of our lives. We know how to build a house, hunt, cook, and clean. That wasn’t the kind of home Mako was talking about. I get that now.

She’s home. It’s Nova—nurturing, kind, bold, sexy. So fucking brave and fierce but also tenderhearted and in need of so much care. I love her. Now, I need to find the words before I’m lost to the moon.

Talking is easier with her than it’s ever been with anyone else. With Briggs, the littermate bond means that I don’t have to find words, but with Nova, I want to share them. I just don’t think words will do her justice.

Nova sets a batch of cookies on the counter and wipes a hand across her forehead. Her cheeks are flushed, and sweat beads on her brow. If the scent of apples and cinnamon is any indication, the moon must be riding her already.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” I ask, making my way into the kitchen and washing up at the sink.

“Like there’s something I’m forgetting.” Nova makes a disgruntled sound and tosses down her oven mitt. She leans against the island, mumbling as she takes inventory.

I survey the space with her. “Looks like plenty enough for a feast to me.”

She cuts her eyes to me. “It needs to be right.”

“What does?” I plant my hands on either side of her hips.

Her teeth sink into the side of her lip, and she looks up at me nervously. “Today. Tonight. I’m trying to remember everything for the full moon, but I feel like I’m forgetting something important.”

This clearly matters to her, though I don’t understand the significance. I caress her cheek with the backs of my fingers. She’s warm, her freckles hidden under the lush bloom on her cheeks. “All right. Tell me about it, and I can help.”

She licks the seam of her lips, those wide eyes studying me. “In the village I grew up in, before… the full moon started with a pack run, then a bonfire feast. After, the kids were carted off with the elders for stories and games while everyone else spent the moon in the packhouse or at home with their mates. I was trying to make the traditional dishes for us…”

I sling an arm around her hip and swipe a space clear on the counter with the other before lifting her. Nova lets out a startled meep, clinging to the front of my flannel. She’s tiny, and even sitting on the counter, she still isn’t at eye level with me, but it lets me get closer.

“It’s perfect even if it’s not exactly the same.” I step between her spread knees. “It’s the thought that makes the ritual, yeah?”

Her shoulders slump. “Maybe. But I figure we can use all the help we can get.”

I eye the round moon cakes decorated in white icing. I had those once at a full moon ceremony in a village we were passing through. They were damn good. “Those cakes will help. I’m sure of it.”

Nova giggles. The sound is so sweet it makes my chest ache.“The moon cakes are to celebrate the return of light.”

“And the others?”

Nova points at the golden oblong loaves. “The pack bread is savory and a little sweet. It’s got herbs and flowers added to the dough, each signifying something for the mating union. This is my first time making it by myself, so it might be awful.”

“Never,” I promise her. I’ll eat every damn thing she makes, no matter what it tastes like.

She eyes me as though she’s on to me. “It’s supposed to be good luck for all mates to eat from the same loaf. The same thing for the soup.”

“It’s perfect and thoughtful.” I smack a kiss on her lips. “Like you.”

“Maybe try it before singing my praises,” she says with a cocked brow. She grabs the nearest moon cake and steals a piece, holding it up for me.

I indulge her, taking the offered bite and managing to suck the icing off her fingers in the process. It’s good—the lemon in the icing bursts with sweetness on my tongue. Her eyes darken, and her nipples pebble at my moan.

“Delicious.” I kiss her palm. It’s true—she is. The cake too, but I’d rather have my mate.

She rolls her eyes, clearly seeing my meaning, but her scent gives a little burst of cinnamon sugar. “I’m on to you, Dex. You’re a sweet talker.” She gives me a stern look, daring me to contradict her.

The idea that I’m a sweet talker is ridiculous. I’m known for being silent and dangerous. “Maybe.” I shrug. “With you, I can’t help it.”

“Good, because I like it.” Her floured hand scratches along the scruff of my jaw. The comforting gesture makes my wolf purr.Nova sighs, stress bleeding into her scent. She rests her forehead against my chest.“What if this isn’t enough?”

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