Page 31 of Once You Go Pack
“Cade.” His name was both question and gentle command. “He looked at me like I was something distasteful he’d found on his shoe.”
The protective instinct that roared through him was so fierce it left him momentarily breathless. “Some wolves are... traditional in their thinking. They’ll learn soon enough to respect you.”
Or I’ll teach them to.
She studied his face, and he wondered what she saw there—the careful mask he wore, or the possessive fury burning beneath it.
“Lyra mentioned she’s going to start training me tomorrow,” she said, apparently deciding to let the matter drop. “Everything I need to know about your shifter world.”
Relief flooded through him. “You want to learn everything?”
“I want to understand everything.” She met his gaze directly. “If I’m going to stay here, I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
Stay here.Not just testing it out anymore. The shift in her language sent hope rushing through his body.
“The council protocols, the pack customs, and the territorial history,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “It’s not simple.”
“I catch on quick.” Her smile was soft but determined. “And I get the impression your world needs someone who can see it a bit differently.”
She’s not intimidated.
The first course arrived—delicate bites of local fish prepared with mountain herbs. As they ate, she asked questions about the Ice Moon pack, about the council structure, and about Nova Aurora itself. Her quick intelligence impressed him. She grasped complex political dynamics with the same ease she’d probably navigated legal briefs back on Earth.
“So, the High Sovereign position stays in one family, but it can be challenged?” she asked, spearing a piece of roasted root vegetable.
“Through a formal duel, yes. Though that hasn’t happened in generations.”
“And you’re expected to take that role when your father...” She trailed off, compassion flickering in her eyes.
“Dies,” he finished. “Which will be soon.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his impending loss settling between them like a physical presence.
“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” she said quietly. “Losing a parent... it’s devastating. I lost my mother when I was ten.”
The admission hit him unexpectedly. “How?”
“Cancer. It was... sudden. One day she was there, reading to me at bedtime, and then...” She shook her head. “My father never talked about it afterward. Just told me and my sister to focus on practical things and to not waste time on dreams.”
“Is that why you became a paralegal instead of pursuing writing?”
Her fork paused halfway to her mouth. “How did you know I wanted to write?”
“Gerri mentioned it. She said you had some stories you’d never shared.”
Mila set down her fork, looking suddenly vulnerable. “They’re probably terrible anyways.”
“I doubt that.” The certainty in his voice surprised them both. “You see things others miss. I’ve watched you today, the way you observe and the questions you ask. That’s a storyteller’s mind.”
“My father would disagree.”
“Your father,” he said carefully, “isn’t here.”
The wine arrived with the next course—a bold red that made her cheeks flush pink. She was beautiful in the candlelight, thegolden strands of her hair catching the flame, and her blue eyes bright with wine and laughter as he told her stories of Lyra’s childhood antics.
“She challenged the Blue Moon pack’s heir to a race when she was fourteen,” he said, watching Mila dissolve into giggles. “On foot, through the forest, in a blizzard.”
“Please tell me she won.”
