Page 56 of The Wolf King's Mate

Even the oversized t-shirts he’d supplied had the same bands on them that I preferred and listened to.

Wow.

I was probably wrong about the lengths being right. And the sizes being perfect. And the clothes being crazy expensive. He would’ve had to spend a small fortune to buy me that many clothes in the brands he seemed to have gone with. They were probably knockoffs.

I pulled on a sports bra and nearly groaned at the feel of the fabric.

Fuck me, it was so much softer than anything else I’d ever worn.

A jacket followed it. A thong and leggings, too, since I wasn’t going for a run and didn’t need the spandex.

All of them were stupidly comfortable.

I googled the brand I thought the logo matched, and stared down at the price with wide eyes.

Crap.

I definitely wasn’t going to look in the closet and do that mental math. It would probably make me sick.

I wasn’t a kept woman. I worked. I paid for my own stuff. Most of my money was trapped in the pack accounts like Fletcher’s, but I had saved a little that only I could access.

Accepting the clothing, which was basically a gift, would mean I owed the king.

I couldn’t do that.

But I couldn’t reject the clothes, either.

We needed to talk. To have a conversation about what it meant to him.

That would have to wait until after I talked to Silas, though.

I closed my eyes and leaned up against the closet wall. The smell of Enzo with a hint of his mostly-scentless laundry detergent mixed deliciously in the small room, making my feel slightly better about the coming conversation.

Nothing would truly ease it, though.

Talking to Silas was never comfortable. The past haunted all of us too much for that.

I hit the button to call him, and bit my lip as it rang.

There was a real chance he would ignore me. Considering what Enzo had done to him, I wouldn’t blame him even slightly. Hell, even before that, I wouldn’t have blamed him.

Our family’s connection was messy.

Dark.

Uncomfortable.

The heats we’d spent together were only the tip of the iceberg.

He answered right before it went to voicemail. “Aspen.”

A lump swelled in my throat. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

I didn’t need to explain why I was asking.

He knew I was the reason the king had shown up at his doorstep and beat the shit out of him. Fletcher would’ve told him everything Enzo hadn’t already said.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

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