Page 29 of Stalked By the Wolf

“An American football,” he amends, showing me how to support Sybil’s body with my arm.

My eyes itch as I stare down at her, and I hurriedly scrub them with the edge of my sleeve.

“Everything all right?” Adrian asks.

I sniff loudly and nod. “I’m going to have one of these soon.”

“What?” My alpha and his mate say in unison.

And just like that, the whole story spills out of me — how I tracked Murphy, how I found Claire, and what happened when I realized she was my fated mate.

By the time I finish, Adrian and Cassie look shellshocked, and little Sybil has fallen asleep in my arms.

“You’re happy,” says Adrian, his voice half amazed, half accusatory. “And you’re scared.”

“Fucking petrified,” I grind out, unable to tear my eyes away from Sibby’s nose, which is a perfect replica of Cassie’s, only smaller.

If Adrian’s pup has this sort of hold over me, what the fuck am I going to do when Claire gives birth?

“So was I,” says Adrian quietly.

His admission takes me by surprise, and I jerk my head up to look at him. “Does it ever go away?”

“It hasn’t yet,” he says, rubbing his hands together as he stares down at his daughter. “But I’d rather be terrified of fucking up the best thing that’s ever happened to me than be back where I was with nothing to lose. You get used to it.”

But for once, I’m pretty sure my alpha is wrong. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this feeling.

I’ve never had a family of my own. The pack is all I’ve ever had, and I’m pretty sure they all just tolerate me. Now I have a beautiful mate, and soon I’ll have a pup to love.

I am, without question, the luckiest bastard who ever lived.

EPILOGUE

SEBASTIAN

Eight years later. . .

The bear careens into my side, locking his jaws around my scruff. We go down in a pile of limbs and fur, and I roll until I have him pinned. Seven years old, and he’s already a good size, but his movements are still uncoordinated.

I chuff.

Again.

Miles snuffles and charges me, and I yip playfully as he tackles me. We roll down the hill through the wet spring snow, and this time, I let him pin me, my chest swelling with pride.

Claire cried for hours after our son’s first Change. I know she’d hoped he wouldn’t get the shifter gene — that she wouldn’t have to tell him I’m not his biological father — but I nipped that in the bud.

Miles doesn’t need to know the details of what his mom went through with Murphy, but it’s important tome that he knows his story. He’s my son, genes be damned, and I never want him to feel ashamed of what he is or where he came from.

These past six months, I’ve made it my mission to help him acclimate to his animal. Anytime Adrian calls the pack together for a run, I take Miles along.

It might be unorthodox for a bear shifter cub to run with wolves, but I’m determined for my son to grow up surrounded by pack. Eventually he’ll need the guidance of grown bear shifters, but for now, he’s content to be one of us.

Getting to my feet, I shake off the snow and jerk my head toward the house. We might not be able to communicate animal to animal the way two wolves can, but in the six months since his first Change, we’ve developed our own language.

Miles barrels past me up the hill, and I wag my tail. He wants to race.

The first one through the back door gets to watch whatever they want on TV. Little does he know I’ve rigged this game so I nearly always lose.

---