Page 47 of Mismatched Mates

As we bounded through the forest, a faint scent caught my attention. My ears pricked forward, and I felt my hackles rise. Something wasn't right. I tried to place the smell - not quite human, but not a bear or a wolf either. It set my teeth on edge.

Jane glanced at me, her brown eyes questioning. I gave a low rumble, hoping to convey 'everything's fine' while my brain went into overdrive.

The cubs wrestled nearby, oblivious to my sudden tension. I positioned myself between the group and whatever potential threat lurked out there. Jane cocked her head; I’m sure she picked up on the smell too.

I nudged the group towards a small clearing, away from the deeper parts of the woods. The cubs tumbled after a butterfly, still caught up in their game.

I kept my movements casual. What the hell was out there? And more importantly, why did it make every hair of my wolf stand on end?

As we circled back to where we left our clothes, the adrenaline rush of our run slowly ebbed away. The cubs' excited yips mellowed into playful growls.

I slowed my pace, and Jane followed suit. The cubs, picking up on our cues, gradually decelerated their mad dash through the underbrush. We each slowly morphed back into our human forms.

"That was awesome!" the Landon exclaimed, his eyes still wild with excitement.

I chuckled, reaching for my jeans. "Glad you enjoyed it, kiddo. You've got some serious speed for a couple of cubs."

"Mom, did you see us?" Lance bounced on his toes, not bothering with clothes yet. "We were like, zoom! And then Grant was all growly, but in a fun way!"

Jane smiled, already halfway dressed. "I saw, sweetie. You both did great."

"Grant," Jake piped up, struggling with his shoelaces. "Can we do this again sometime? Please?"

The hopeful look in his eyes caught me off guard. It was nice. Unexpectedly so.

"Sure thing, sport," I found myself saying. "As long as it's okay with your mom."

I glanced at Jane, suddenly aware of how domestic this all felt. Me, the eternal bachelor, playing Father to a couple of bear cubs.

Jane's eyes met mine, and I felt a jolt. Not the usual "hey, hot mama" kind of jolt, but something deeper.

"Thank you," she said softly, and I knew she wasn’t just talking about the run.

"Anytime."

As the boys chattered away, comparing their favorite parts of the run, my mind drifted back to that scent I'd caught in the woods. I found myself scanning the treeline, ears pricked forany unusual sounds. The protectiveness surging through me was unexpected.

"You know," I said instead, aiming for casual, "your boys are pretty incredible. They've got your spirit."

Jane's face broke out in genuine smile, unguarded. "They're my whole world," she admitted. "I just hope I'm doing right by them."

"Are you kidding? You're like... Super Mom. Trust me, I've seen my share of lousy parenting."

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

We walked in companionable silence for a moment, and I was struck by how right it felt. No need for constant flirting or witty banter. Just existing in the same space, comfortable. The ease I felt around Jane and her kids, the fierce protectiveness, the way my wolf calmed in her presence - it all added up to something I'd never experienced before.

GRANT

The dopamine from the wedding lasted precisely two days, during which we barely stopped messaging one another. As far as our original agreement went, this was supposed to be the end of it, but it felt more like the beginning. As the son of the alpha, my life had never really felt like my own, but I thought maybe I could make something of it. For her. With her. Or at least, we could see where things went.

That was until my father called me into his office. The heavy door closed behind me with a thud. His office always had that effect—like stepping into the belly of a beast. The familiar scent of leather couldn't mask the underlying tension.

Father sat behind his mahogany fortress, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made me want to squirm. But I didn't. Elston men don't squirm, after all.

"Grant," he said, my name a low rumble in his throat.

“Father,” I replied, aiming for casual and missing the mark. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

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