Page 42 of Unforgivable

Lyri

The window above the sink rattles in its frame. The latest storm has raged overnight, leaving a mess outside. There’s at least two feet of snow to shovel away from the barns and house, along with a drop in temperature that makes me glad to stay inside for once.

Rhet slept with me last night. For the first time, he came to bed before I was asleep. There was nothing more to do, he told me. He and the others had prepped for the storm as best they could. He told me, whispers in the dark, about the three different heating systems in the house and barns. Four, if you count the fireplace in the great room that is roaring even now in the wee hours of the morning.

Yeah, it wasn't the sexiest conversation ever, but it was... nice. Informative, I guess? It made me feel as if maybe Rhet cares about me a little. Of course, he was gone this morning by the time I woke up.

Is it my insecurities that make me question him? Rhet reminds me of him, with his blue eyes and powerful wolf.

Rhet does talk to me; he takes me on Wheat every once in a while. We've gone on runs a couple of times. But... Ezra and Thjis seem to always be touching me. Intimate touches. Touches of lovers. Even Thjis, who plays doctor with me every morning, can't hide the fact that he's enjoying it and makes sure that I enjoy it, too. Rhet gives me nothing like that. He holds me. He brushes kisses on my head or mouth. That's it.

It worries me. We made out on the couch almost a month ago. Then... nothing more.

"Ah, Lyri? Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing," Inuit's early-morning voice hold a wariness in it.

I glance down guiltily at the congealed mess in the bottom of the pan. "I wanted to try to make eggs," I tell him. I kept the heat turned down low this time.

Inuit walks over and pokes his finger at the substance in the pan doubtfully. "It's cold."

"I don't want them to burn," I defend myself. I know the eggs are cold. I've been standing here at the stove for twenty minutes, and they haven't even started cooking. In my defense, a certain blue-eyed male has me distracted.

"Shit," Inuit nudges the pan out of the way before he places his fingertips delicately on the stovetop.

"Don't!" I tell him sharply.

He pulls his hand back and rolls his eyes. "The stove is off, Lyri."

I feel my cheeks redden. "But the knob is turned, and the coil turned red." I look down at the stove.

"Yeah, but the gas only stays on if the stove is turned up to a certain temperature. It's for safety, so gas doesn't escape if the flame is too low. We can't cook on low on this cooktop. If you wanted to simmer something, you have to put it on that stove." He indicated a two-burner stove in the corner that just magically appeared when he told me about it.

"Huh, I never saw that before," I murmur.

"It's usually covered. I think Ez planned on cleaning the kitchen this morning."

I bite my lip and look around. The kitchen is a mess. There are egg cartons scattered all over, and milk spilled on the counter. The salt and pepper are everywhere; countertops, floor, me. I don't even know how that happened. Worst are the two eggs I managed to drop on the floor instead of in the pan like any competent wolf would do. My fault. "I should probably never cook again," I tell Inuit solemnly.

He just laughs, stirring the eggs. I watch him as I try to clean my mess, appreciating the fact that a twelve-year-old has more skill than I do.

"No school today?" I glance outside at the storm just as another gust of wind blows hard against the house.

"Nah. Here," Inuit scoops some of the eggs onto a waiting plate.

"It was supposed to be for all of you," I say, staring at the heap of eggs. Clearly, I underestimated the number of eggs needed.

Inuit just shakes his head and starts to pull out more ingredients. "Sit and eat, Lyri. Don't be like those females at school who starve themselves."

"No chance of that," I say. I sit delicately, aware of my hip protesting from standing for so long. Even at my most miserable, I didn't starve myself. I'm an eater. My she-wolf is a pig. I swear she could eat all day.

"Morning, baby," Thjis strides into the kitchen, stretching his up toward the ceiling and yawning. One hand drops to rub the bare expanse of skin on his belly revealed when he lifts his arms over his head. I suppress my wolf's shiver of awareness of the male. He doesn't have Rhet's washboard abs. Thjis is definitely the bear, muscles but a thickness over it, too. I peer a little closer at him. I approve, we approve.

"Where's the food, pup?" Thjis growls at Inuit before he drops a kiss on my cheek.

I glare at him. He's such a grouch. "Shouldn't you be hibernating?" I ask him.

He frowns. "I thought I stole the cave from the bear. Now I am the bear?"

"My grizzly," I coo at him mockingly.

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