Page 4 of The Wolf Prince's Mate

The pack was growing like a weed beneath Aspen and Enzo, the Alphas. She had made it clear that she wasn’t going to let him take so many wolves that it caused him physical pain the way it used to. But, thankfully, neither of them thought they were nearing capacity.

They had to expand the Lodge, as well as build and repair a bunch of old cabins in the forest around it to make room, but the expansions only energized the pack.

“If you’re not going to work it out, you need to figure out a way to let her spend heat with someone else,” Clay said matter-of-factly. The words were obviously pointed at Hunter.

Hunter snarled on the other end of the phone. “I’m trying.”

Clay and I got along, but we didn’t talk about anything personal. Just tattoos and other random things. I was positive he had no idea the extent to which heat caused me pain.

We were close enough that I was sure if he knew, he would probably figure out a way to convince me and Hunter to spend heat together the way nature wanted us to. And I wasn’t going to let him do that, obviously.

But the pain did seem to be getting worse every month. Even if I wouldn’t admit that aloud.

“How are you trying?” Clay countered.

“I’m here. Where are you?” Hunter changed the subject, to my absolute lack of surprise.

None of his tries had accomplished anything. I was still spending heat suffering in the expansive basement of a very private mansion in Greenview, after all. Hunter liked to have his own space—from both me and everyone else.

“Almost there.” Clay sounded annoyed by the subject change.

I didn’t know why he bothered. If anyone had a reason to be annoyed, it was me. But I’d been trying to numb myself to it for over a year.

It had yet to work, but I’d gotten good at pretending otherwise.

When we reached my car, Hunter was waiting outside with his phone in his hand. His thumbs were still flying over the screen as he worked on some aspect of the pack’s or city’s security. He hadn’t opened my car’s door, but I hadn’t assumed he would.

We were careful about giving each other space. After the first time, we took our own vehicles when we drove to Greenview for heat. We had never shared a room, bed, or anything else, either. Hunter stayed on the top floor of the mansion. I stayed in the basement.

It sucked, but it was better than the alternative.

Clay opened the driver’s side door, ignoring the distance and discomfort between me and Hunter. “Where was it?”

“Sitting on the passenger seat.” I gestured to it.

Clay inspected the vehicle.

Hunter didn’t say a word about the mess in my car. There was a bunch of random shit in it—I had a stack of sweaters, a few changes of clothes, a pile of snacks, an old coffee cup full of pens and pencils, and a variety of other things. I liked to be prepared.

Also, I was kind of a workaholic.

Which made being able to live out of my car a necessity.

I’d been trying to curb the excessive working because of the extra hours it meant for the guards Hunter assigned me, but it wasn’t really happening. I loved my job too much. And felt too uncomfortable at the Lodge, which was technically my home.

“I don’t smell anything other than you and your usual plethora of random junk,” Clay said, a moment later. “I don’t know how you live like this.”

It was far from the first time we’d had that conversation.

“Emergency snacks are a necessity.”

He snorted as he glanced at his brother. Hunter was still typing on his phone. “You’re going to have to take a sniff. You’ve got the most sensitive nose anyway.”

Hunter’s jaw clenched.

He finally looked away from his phone screen and stepped up to the passenger side of my old Honda Civic.

His nostrils flared, and his body tensed.

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