Page 53 of The Wolf King's Mate

There were clothes hanging up. Colored clothes. Women’s clothes.

It didn’t take a genius to know who they were for.

Or who had put them there.

But when had Enzo brought them in? I would’ve noticed him hanging up an entire wardrobe of clothing, wouldn’t I?

And itwasan entire wardrobe. More than a wardrobe. I definitely hadn’t had that many clothing options when I lived with Fletcher.

Very few clothes ever fit me properly right out of the store. My legs were too long. My waist wasn’t small. I was built strong, not skinny. Not curvy either, even though my boobs were far from small. Just… muscular. Like a male werewolf.

I ran a hand over the top of my hair. It needed to be washed, but the Alpha had made it very clear that if I tried to take a bath without him, things would not go my way. Bathing with his help sounded awful, so I’d just thrown my hair in a bun on top of my head and piled on the deodorant every day.

It wasn’t ideal, but very few things in my life had ever been ideal.

Uncomfortable conversations would happen if none of the clothes he’d apparently gone out to buy for me fit. I’d just have to suck it up.

At least he’d bought me clothes. That was more than I expected from him, and it was sweet. I thought I was going to have to beg or argue to get him to take me shopping.

Ill-fitted clothes were far better than the boxer-briefs he’d never worn and see-through tank tops

My phone rang on the nightstand, and I padded back to it. When I saw my brother’s name and face on the screen, I lifted it to my ear immediately. He had given short, bland responses to any questions about how he was doing, so I was worried about him.

“Hey, Fletch. What’s up?”

“Hey.” There was a moment of silence. It was almost awkward, which was weird. Things were never awkward for us.

He finally let out a long breath.

“Fletcher?”

“Are you okay? How’s the ankle healing?” he was clearly avoiding whatever he’d called to tell me.

“It’s fine. I took the boot off.”

“Already? Does the Alpha know?”

“Not yet.”

“Put it back on, Aspen.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine. What are you avoiding talking about?”

“The Alpha is deadly. You know that. Don’t risk angering him,” Fletcher growled.

“He’s not deadly to me. He’ll be pissed, but he’ll get over it. We have a truce.”

“The truce where you let him take care of you and he lets you walk around the room instead of chaining you to the bed?” Fletcher drawled.

“It’s better than it sounds,” I said, lips twisting in a grimace.

Maybe the situation was worse than I’d started to believe. Maybe reading too many spicy romance books had made me think weird situations were normal.

Whoops.

No going back, though.

“I doubt that,” Fletcher said.

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