Page 85 of The Wolf Prince's Mate

“Not when it applies to me.”

There was a moment of silence.

We both knew I was right.

“Where did Enzo mark me when he brought me back into your pack?” I could feel the slight electricity of my connection to the Alpha again, so I knew Enzo’s wolf had scratched me to bring me back.

“Same spot as last time.”

On the back of my left arm, then.

I didn’t bother trying to check it out. Enzo was always careful to leave as little scarring as possible.

Clay pulled his hand from mine just long enough to signal for a turn, then take it.

My throat clenched as more memories rose to the surface.

He reached for my hand again, and when I didn’t take it, he set it on my thigh and squeezed. “What are you going to put on your neck?”

“I haven’t thought about it. It would need to be long, and horizontal. I can’t do another forest, though. Maybe a river or something. Or more flowers. I can never get too many flowers.”

He squeezed my thigh. “Neck tattoos will look hot on you.”

My lips curved upward.

It was different, hearing him compliment me. Confidence had never really been an issue for me before Hunter, but the whole messed up situation had been one blow to my pride after another.

“I’m glad the Hunter shit is over,” I admitted. “I guess that’s the one good thing to come of the… you know.” I couldn’t make myself mention the crash specifically.

“It should’ve been over a long time ago. I should’ve done something about it.”

“You were my friend. That was something.”

“That was pure selfishness. I just liked being around you.”

The words made me warm.

I heard the first few notes of a song I liked, and turned the music up. Though I couldn’t get lost in it the way I wanted to, given the way I kept looking over my shoulder, it was still nice to have it playing in the background.

My tension never faded entirely, but with Clay’s music playing, his hand on my thigh, and his scent in the air, I felt okay. And considering everything that was going on, that seemed like a miracle.

fifteen

NOVA

It wasafter 1 AM when we finally got to Clay’s cabin. He looked as exhausted as I felt, but somehow managed to stay upbeat as he opened my door before I could, and scooped me out of my seat.

I was too tired to protest, just leaning my head against his shoulder as he carried me through the garage I’d never seen before (there was more stuff than I expected inside, and it was all organized with extreme effectiveness) and into the cabin.

He took me straight to his bedroom, and I started to mumble a protest when he put me in his bed. When he kissed my shoulder and told me he was going to sleep on the couch, I made a sound of complaint. But, I was too tired to move. So, I couldn’t do anything but drift off under the blankets that smelled strongly of Clay and faintly of me.

I wokeup to the scent of bacon cooking. I felt wetness on my chin, and wiped away a little drool as my stomach growled fiercely.

I was coated in a thin layer of sweat, but that was far from my mind as I stumbled out of bed in the same gigantic shirt I’d borrowed from the man who was apparently cooking breakfast.

My stomach rumbled again as I made it into the kitchen, flushing immediately when I found a gorgeous giant standing in front of a stove.

Clay was scrambling eggs in nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs.

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