Page 67 of Pack Kasen: Part 2

And pleased.

“Atyou,” I correct him as I tug on his wrist. “You can let go of my face now.”

His grip tightens as he looks at my mouth. “Maybe I don’t want to let you go. Maybe I like touching you and don’t want to stop.”

“I haven’t given you permission to touch.”

His eyes are still on my mouth and I swear he’s leaning toward me. “You’re my mate. I don’t need permission.”

I stick my finger in his ribs right before his lips touch mine. He yelps, and I shove.Hard.

He rolls into the creek with an epic crash.

It is intensely satisfying.

As he shoves himself up, he’s growling as water sluices down washboard abs that so nearly tempted me to let him kiss me. “You pushed me into the creek.”

“An apology, Aren. When I hear one, and it had better be a damn good one after the way you treated me, Imightlet you kiss me.”

I walk away, back to the house. More and more windows are opening as people stick their heads out and cover their mouths when they see Aren standing in the creek.

“I made you smile, Kitty cat!” He yells after me. “Admit it. You like me. Not because I’m your mate. Becauseyoulikeme.”

“There are a lot of things I like which aren’t good for me,” I yell, not turning around. “Greasy food is one of them.Youare not.”

* * *

Gregor is sitting in the schoolroom. Alone, because the kids haven’t arrived yet and I’m early.

“I was thinking about fated mates this morning,” I say, squeezing myself into one of the tiny kid-size seats. If I put on so much as five pounds, I’d be in serious danger of wedging myself in here for good.

“I heard you were doing a lot more than that this morning.” His voice is dry. Gray eyes, however, are sparkling with amusement.

“He tried to kiss me. He’s lucky I didn’t hold his head down after I pushed him in.” I sniff.

He laughs. “You are having fun.”

“No, I’m not,” I deny.

But I am.

It is not in my nature to have fun. Survive? Sure. Occasionally smile when the moment calls for it? Yeah, why not? But activelyplay?

That has never been me, and that side of me is as much of a surprise to me as it would have been to my old foster dad, Robert, who was the only person I smiled at with any regularity.

“Fun is important,” Gregor says, watching me closely. “So is play. It’s how our pups learn best.”

“Through play?”

He nods. “A pup will always learn faster and do best when playing with others. It’s as true with us as it is with most other animals. When more of the pups have their first shift, we take them out for sniff play and explore.”

I can’t help but smile at the mental image of cute wolf pups playing and sniffing everything they encounter, like curious kittens. “Really?”

He nods. “It’s a fun experience for them and the rest of the pack. We corral them as best we can. They let their noses lead the way and don’t always remember to use their eyes.” He smiles slightly. “There has been more than one occasion when someone has tumbled into the creek trying to sniff something too close to it. Then we come back to the house and sleep in a big pile. Helps the pups bond with us as wolves.”

“That sounds like fun.” So cozy, something what my wolf would absolutely love. Her quiet whine adds to my guilt that I’ve always been a solitary person, but she’s always craved connection with other wolves. And a pack.

A pack of one isn’t enough for a wolf.

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