Page 57 of Unforgivable

Lyri

"Do you like to garden?" Rhet asks me before taking a sip of coffee.

I look back at him, studying him just like he always studies me. The shift of the relationships in the house is a steady undercurrent thrumming away at breakfast. All of the males are acting more like the predators that lurk under our skin. Ezra's scent is on me, in me, and my scent is all over him. Sometimes I wonder if he's given up bathing because Thjis has flashed fang at him a few times, and Rhet seems to avoid getting too close.

It's March now, and three months have passed since they brought me here. Three months, but only now do I feel like I'm finally breaking free of those silver-laced chains from that night.

Only three months, but I'm learning these males backward and forward. Ezra, my Sunshine, who hides his pain and loneliness under his humor. I try to initiate things with Ez, but all I can bring myself to do is kiss him and embrace him. I've only had sex with him twice since the first time in the barn. Both times Rhet and Thjis gave us the push. I'm getting there, I am. My she-wolf has already laid her claim to Ezra. She's fucked him, so he's hers. It's primitive, but wolves are instinctive. Ezra's always touching me, smelling my skin, my hair, tasting me in the air, silently asking permission for more, but never taking what isn't offered.

Thjis... hmm, my Bear. I know his pain like it's my own. He's a gentle giant, for all that he professes to be a warrior. Soldiers need doctors too, right? He touches me intimately, and never, ever, does he ask permission. We still play doctor every morning. He should write a book, "Orgasmic Healing." I can sell them with the battery-operated tongues. He and I haven't had sex, not yet, but he's creeping closer and closer. I have a feeling that he wants to make it memorable. Ezra told me, secretly of course, that Thjis had plied his bitch of a mate with gifts and attention. He's a romantic at heart, and it burns me up to know that his efforts were wasted on a whore.

Rhet still doesn't touch me with seduction in mind. He touches me as if he's my alpha. Not that Alpha Jax ever touched me at all, but then I'm not part of his precious family or inner circle. Rhet's touches are reassuring that an important packmate is healthy and well for his wolf and mine. It makes my she-wolf preen under his attention. He likes to play with my hair, cuddle me during movie time. Sometimes he feeds me if Ezra lets him touch the food he's prepared. He's offering protection and affection with every touch, but I'll admit I want more. I want to know that he wants more.

He's already had it, so what's he waiting for?

"Lyri? Do you like gardening, pretty?" Rhet repeats his question with a sly smirk.

I blush, realizing that I've been studying him for a solid minute without blinking. It just took me aback, his question. The end of winter is in sight, but Spring won't be here for at least another month. He's talking long-term plans here.

"I've never done it," I admit. "Once, I tried to grow pumpkins for the Fall Fair contest." I smile at the memory, "my pumpkin was green and tiny, but I thought it was awesome."

Thjis leans over and kisses my cheek, "how old were you?"

"Umm... eleven, maybe?"

"You won a lot of contests, didn't you?" Inuit interjects. He sounds proud of me, but it makes me cringe on the inside.

Yes, I always won a lot of contests. Archery and swimming were my best sports. I'm a pretty fast runner, too. I can paint pretty well and weave baskets, even though my sewing is atrocious. MayDay is our biggest celebration of the year, other than Winter Solstice, and the pack always has competitions that run the gamut from log-throwing and wrestling, to races in both forms, to baking and sewing contests.

"I never won the baking contest?" I say, a weak joke to ease the sorrow that suddenly sprang up in me.

"You never entered the baking contest, sweetheart," Ezra grins, plopping a warm, chocolate muffin in front of me.

I stick my tongue out at him. Jerk always enters and usually wins something. "Can't win if you don't enter," I smirk. "I entered the science fair at school once," I tell Inuit. "I came in last," I laugh.

"Who won?" Sarj asked.

"Savannah Clemson," I say, smiling at the memory of my friend. "She left to go to college. She got a scholarship and everything." Not too many wolves from our pack go to college. Savannah was the only one from our year.

"She must be smart," Inuit chimes in.

"She is. It was obvious that she would win those science competitions all the time," I reply.

A thought niggles my mind. It flits away before coming back. During my sophomore year, I skipped the science fair because I was just beginning to climb back up out of the hole of depression from the rejection. In our junior year, I competed against Savannah when she won, hands down, but she lost the contest our sophomore year. It's a vague memory, but I remember Savannah being devastated that she lost to a senior female. I could barely comfort her because that female was Cloe. Cloe went on to compete at the regional fair and completely bombed. The next year, Savannah won regionals with the same project she did her sophomore year.

I take a big gulp of coffee to wash down the bitterness. Cloe won that contest because she was fucking my mate. Because everyone thought that she was going to be the next luna.

I take another swallow. She is going to be the next luna, I remind myself. How will I live here, even in Genom, when she and Daan are the leaders of our pack, and I'm so hated?

"Lyri?" Sarj's voice snaps me out of my self-pity.

"Hmm, Sarj?"

"I help you grow things. It's OK," he pats my hand. All of the males smile. Ezra laughs out loud.

"Keep her out of my kitchen, right?" he says conspiratorially to Sarj, winking at him.

"I will," he whispers back, blinking both eyes as he tries to wink back at Ezra.

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