Page 34 of Howling Mad
I’ve never felt more at home.
Beside me, Finley stirs, tightening her arm around my waist.Her hair fans across the pillow in wild waves, with one curl stuck adorably to her cheek.When her eyelids flutter open, I see a flash of surprise followed by something softer.
“Hi,” she whispers, her voice husky with sleep.
“Hi.”I brush the wayward curl from her face, relishing the freedom to touch her this way.“Sleep well?”
“Better than I have in months.”She stretches, catlike, and then freezes mid-movement, her eyes widening comically.“Oh, moon, I must look terrifying.”
I laugh, tracing the curve of her shoulder with my fingertips.“Terrifying is not the word I’d use.”
“What word would you use?”She props herself on one elbow, looking at me with that direct gaze that’s had me captivated since our first meeting.
“Beautiful.”I lean forward, pressing my lips to the hollow of her throat.“Captivating.”Another kiss, this time to her collarbone.“Mine.”
The last word comes out as a possessive growl that surprises us both.My wolf is closer to the surface this morning, territorial and smug.
Finley’s eyes darken, but before she can respond, her stomach growls loudly enough to startle both of us.“Apparently hunger trumps romance,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh.“Sorry.Wolf metabolism.”
I kiss her nose.“I’m pretty hungry myself.Breakfast?”
In her kitchen, we move around each other with a synchronicity that feels earned rather than accidental.I find plates while she retrieves eggs from the fridge.She reaches for the coffee beans as I locate the grinder.It’s a dance we’ve never rehearsed but perform flawlessly.
“Fair warning,” says Finley, wielding a spatula with exaggerated menace.“My cooking skills are questionable at best.My last attempt at scrambled eggs ended up extra crispy.”
“Fortunately for you, I make excellent scrambled eggs.”I gently take the spatula.“It’s one of my three culinary skills.”
“What are the other two?”
“Toast and cereal.”I whisk the eggs with practiced precision.“The secret is to add a splash of heavy cream.”
Finley hops onto the counter, watching me cook with undisguised fascination.“I’m learning so much.The renowned financial analyst Michael Thornton can also make breakfast.The pack would be scandalized.”
“My father would certainly think it beneath the dignity of a proper wolf.”I pour the eggs into the heated pan.“Real wolves hunt their breakfast, preferably something still twitching.”
“My mother once tried to teach me to skin a rabbit,” Finley says, wrinkling her nose.“I cried for three days and named all the rabbits in the forest for the next month.”
“Yet you live with one now.”
“Penelope would skinmeif she heard you call her that.”She jumps down to retrieve mugs from a cabinet.“She prefers ‘lagomorph-shifter American.’”
I laugh, transferring the perfectly fluffy eggs to plates.She sets two mismatched mugs on the counter, one of which immediately catches my eye.
“‘I HOWL AT MY OWN JOKES’?”I pick up the mug, examining the chipped lettering with delight.“This explains so much about you.”
“It was a gag gift from my brother.”She blushes, pouring coffee into both cups.“I hid it the first time you came for a consultation.”
“Why?”
“Because I was trying to be professional.”Her blush deepens adorably.“Fat lot of good that did.”
“I’m ordering one immediately.”I pull out my phone, searching for the mug online.“We can be the insufferable couple with matching novelty kitchenware.”
The word “couple” hangs between us, new and tentative.Her smile tells me she doesn’t mind.
We settle at her small table, knees touching beneath it.She takes a bite of eggs and makes an appreciative sound that sends heat racing through me, reminding me of similar noises from last night.
“These are amazing,” she mumbles through a full mouth.“You’ve been holding out on me.”
