Page 82 of Vicious Wolf Mate

“What’s up, babe?” asks McKenna. I look up and she is standing in my office doorway leaning against the jam. She is as beautiful as the morning. “You look happy up here in Scriberia,” she adds, as-a-matter-of-factly.

“Scriberia?” I ask. “I am not sure I heard you correctly. You caught me right when my head is still high as a kite in delusions of rapture. So many changes this last year. A full turn of the seasons has gone by so fast, and I couldn’t be more happy. Really. What’s Scriberia?”

“This is Scriberia,” she answers, nodding her chin at my office. “Way up here in the northern corner of Insignys, underground, it’s all dark and quiet. Like Siberia, except each time you sneak off down here, I find you typing away. You have a Dostoevsky side.”

“And here you are,” I tell her. “You show up more beautiful than ever to torture me.”

“Actually, I have some fantastic news,” she answers. “Do you want to guess?”

“No. I think I know what the news is, or what at least part of the news is. I want to hear you say it.”

“It’s done!” she tells me.

I stand before saying anything. I know what she means. I need to stand to not explode right there in the chair.

“Really?” I ask. Inside I know it’s done and what she means. My feelings of being overjoyed push words out.

“Oh, babe. It’s done. It’s really done!” she answers. “All the Insignys crew, every worker, even nasty Natalie, charged for conspiracy for murder.”

“I don’t wish for anyone to lose their freedom. I really don’t,” I tell her. “But hearing this helps me believe in Karma, in Universal justice. I love that there are balancing forces in this Universe. What you put out always comes back to you.”

“Tomorrow the new crew will be here,” McKenna tells me.

“That’s fast,” I answer.

“I’m talking about the new crew as in new employees. PEACE has really been helping recruit and build up this new crew. Guess what the best part of this new crew of employees is?” McKenna asks.

“I’m having a bad guessing day today. You better tell me.”

“Half of the new hires are shifters. At least half,” she says. “And one of the ways PEACE is really helping is with the vetting process. The new hires, and I mean all of them, will be undergoing mental evaluations.”

“What kind of mental evaluations?” I ask. In my mind I am thinking about the late Jax. Someone like Jax would have zero patience for evaluations of any kind.

“Evaluations that will identify and help dispel any sort of bias any of them may have. I don’t expect much bias to be found, but it is so good to be thorough and safe as opposed to sorry.”

“This is good news,” I tell her. I want to tell her how much I love her, but how do you quantify such a thing? I want to tell her that she reminds me of all the times I ever fell in love.

I watch McKenna walk up to my desk and sit on the corner of my desk, close enough for our legs to touch. I do love her. I love her, and it feels like I was in love with her before I knew her.

“There’s some other good news,” she tells me. “Getting you to guess is like pulling teeth or giving a pill to a cat.”

“You’re going to have to pull teeth again,” I tell her. “Everything we’ve been through together, the consistency that exists between us, the news today, it’s all so wonderful. I can’t think of anything you could come up with to top this. Except for a ribeye steak.”

“The new crew is going into training for at least a week once the evaluations are completed,” she answers. “What that means for you and me is vacation. We have some unfettered vacation time. A big chunk of time for spoiling each other and being naughty.”

“I can only think of some of the classic spots to visit. You know, Hawaii, Alaska, Europe. What were you thinking?” I ask.

McKenna reaches forward and closes my laptop. Then she gently turns off my desk lamp, grabs my hand, and pulls me away from the desk. I can tell by the way she pulls me along she wants us to exit my office. She wants to show me something.

“Oh. For our vacation I have had lots of ideas, stabs at plans,” she tells me. “But one idea really stood out as a ringer. I know you’ll love it. You’ll think I read your mind.”

McKenna leads as we exit my dark and isolated underground writing office at Insignys. She is right. I love her idea. I love her. I love it when she goes off-the-grid with a creative idea.

“I love it when you and your imagination go over the wall,” I tell her. “Your vacation idea really does feel like you broke into my subconscious mind, took notes, and hatched a plan. I love it when you come up with ideas like this,” I add. I know I am repeating myself, and I think I keep repeating myself because McKenna and I keep repeating loving each other, in lifetime after lifetime, age after age, forever.

58

MCKENNA

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