Page 70 of The Wolf Prince's Mate

“By that logic, wouldn’t his wolf be yearning for the bond too?”

“If he wasn’t insane, sure.”

“He’s not insane,” Sydney reminded me. “Just misunderstood.”

I snorted.

She flashed me a grin. “You’ll see.”

“How are you and Fletcher? Still surviving having him gone all the time?”

Her smile faltered just a little. “We’re good. He comes to find me as soon as he can after getting back, and I grab food for us while he showers. We eat in one of our rooms, and spend most of our time together until he goes out again. When he’s not hunting, he’s not working at all, which is nice. He wants to cut his hours back more, but I guess Enzo’s worried about it. Eventually, they’ll agree on someone else who can split the time.”

“That’s good. I don’t know if I could handle that.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nah. The closest thing I ever had was a human tattoo artist I’d hook up with sometimes when I worked at that studio in Greenview. He’s insanely talented, but I didn’t miss him when the Savages made me quit going there.”

“Do you miss working there?”

“Not really. The views were good, and I liked the people, but it wasn’t home.”

Not any more than Crimson River was home.

“Did you have a boyfriend?” I checked.

She laughed. “No. Even before my dad went rogue, he was overprotective, and all the wolves in the pack I grew up in were obsessed with the groupies. I flew under the radar for the most part, and I was fine with it.”

“Well, you don’t need a mate to be happy.” I bumped her arm lightly.

“No. But the right one can be really fun to have around.” She winked at me, and I smiled.

I guess I hadn’t ever really experienced that, other than in the short amount of time I’d spent with Clay, and that hardly counted. And he couldn’t have been the right one, all things considered.

Could he?

When we finally reached thecabin, I had decided that I was definitely going to have to get over my car aversion. Maybe exposure therapy would help.

I triple-checked the address on the cabin—6635—and then checked again, just to make sure.

“Shit,” I whispered, staring at the building.

It was modern, but cozy. Large, glass windows with black frames met creamy-white siding and a sage green door. Young plants grew around it, and Sydney was already inspecting them by the time I blinked away the burning in my eyes.

It wasn’t just a tiny spare room in the Lodge.

It was a house. A place I could make my home.

And it was beautiful.

“I’m getting really tired of holding this suitcase,” Charlie remarked. “Care to open the door?”

My head jerked back toward him, and I found him wearing the tiniest smile.

He was teasing me.

Still, it was rude to make him wait.

---