Page 143 of Unforgivable

"Nope. Had the oddest visit. Old Luna Gloria, now she's a bitch," he says fondly, "swung by the other day. Told us a battle was coming. Your female is gonna be Luna of this pack come hell or high water. That's what she's saying, anyway. I told your family to git. Your mama had to leave behind all her fancies," he chortles wickedly.

Well, shit. "Where are they, Gramps?" I ask him patiently. Oh, so patiently.

"In my caves. Done a lot of work over the last couple of years. Your brothers helped me a lot. Spend more time with your Gramps than you do." He eyes me, his bushy caterpillar eyebrows quivering with indignation. Of course, I know what he's talking about, but despite his claims, I help Gramps with his 'caves' all the time, only occasionally dragging Thjis or Rhet out there with me. Inuit, now maybe he helps more. He's gonna be a prepper, just like Gramps. I can tell. An alpha-prepper if Alpha Macon has his way. At least the pack would be ready for the zombie apocalypse. Inuit does love that game...

I heave a sigh. "Should I pop in to visit?" I ask Gramps. I really don't want to. I hate visiting mom and dad. They don't get my lifestyle. I was just coming here tonight to make sure that they were OK and to warn them.

"Naw, your mama is whining and complaining. You don't need to hear that." Gramps says.

"What about the Jensen females? Are they in the caves, too?" I ask.

"Sure. Can't leave those little mites by themselves. Soon as that Jensen fuckers dead, I'll bring the mites to see you. Do them some good to have a nice female around for once." He grimaces.

I roll my shoulders. I would hope that mom is being nice to the young females, but she's never pleasant. Gram is better, but she fights with mom a lot, so those poor females are stuck there with that.

"Alright, Gramps. Take care of the family, OK?"

He just snorts. Then he pokes Carmichael in the chest. "Big ones always get special mates, pup. You remember that, hear me? Don't go messing shit up like our dumbass alphason."

Carmichael shakes his head slowly but doesn't say anything. I eye him sideways. Thjis told me all about Carm's little mate. The faint bruising under his left eye is from where Rhet punched him. Thjis punched him, too. I'd like to get a hit in, but I'm not suicidal.

"Bye, Gramps," I call out. He waves one hand, muttering insults in a perfectly normal voice.

"Dumb pups. Think they own the world. Wait until they realize what a bite out of the ass feels like."

"He's interesting," Carmichael remarks when the sour grumbling fades.

"Yeah, he's old-school. But, hey, now we don't have to deal with my mama."

"Is she that bad?" Carmichael says quietly.

I suddenly feel bad. Carmichael's mom died when he was still a pup.

Then I think of my mom. She's never cared if I live or die. In fact, when I shifted MateLess, I got the feeling that she would have preferred I kill myself. "Yeah, she is that bad."

He just huffs, and we trudge back outside.

"Why do you smell like woodsmoke?" he asks me suddenly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I say smoothly.

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