Page 72 of Untamed

"Good but painful," he says. It's not a question.

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Willa

I let my fingertips drift over the bookcase, reading the spines as I walk by. The honeyed eyes of the Moon are boring into my back, but for now, I ignore that gaze. My she-wolf is scratching at the wound on her neck, the one that matches mine.

Mactiir'Marked'us. AClaimis not complete until he sticks his knobby-stick into me and we havesex. And... I have toMarkhim, too.

I rub the embossed red leather spine of a thick book and absentmindedly pull it from the shelf. Opening it to a random page, I look at the picture of the mountain cat. Huffing, I flip the pages. Mactiir, the biter, calls me 'cat.' How ironic that this is the page I open first.

Ironic; paradoxical, ridiculous, twisted.

It's ironic that a male has...Claimedme. I ran from that unknown older male in my forest and from Mactiir and his pack, and now the Moon is telling me it was all in vain. I've beenClaimed. And, no matter where I go, Mactiir can sense my presence. I glance down at the chain wrapped around my waist. Why chain me if he hasClaimedme?

I flip the book's page again, but the words are swimming, and I can't concentrate on them. The Moon described, in detail, what Mactiir and I will do. It makes my legs twitch, and my belly feels heavy. Because...I want those things.

But... she also cautioned me thatsexis how pups are made. That white stuff is important, apparently.

"Would you like to go running with us?" the Moon offers suddenly.

My she-wolf surges to her feet, barking in a high-pitched whine that makes me wince at the volume of her enthusiasm. She turns in a circle, bouncing on her hind legs. I smile at the Moon. Yes, we want to run. We want to race Mactiir, and this time we'll win.

The Moon laughs, "good because Inuit and Sarj are coming downstairs now."

I know. I can hear him, feel him, my she-wolf and I buzz with anticipation. We want to see our Mactiir again.

When he walks into the room, the Pup is with him. Mactiir is leaning on the smaller male, a pale cast to his face.

I frown and look at them. They smell of each other and soap. They must have taken a shower together.

"What's wrong,Qitsuk?" Mactiir murmurs. His walnut-eyes blink slowly. I like taking showers with him. It's not fair. Why didn't they invite me?Unfair; shameful, inexcusable, wrong. Ogre.

Mactiir shrugs himself away from the Pup. He sways on his feet, and the Pup tries to catch him. "No. She doesn't like us touching," Mactiir snaps at him.

I growl at Mactiir as the Pup rushes from the room, head bowed, shoulders slumped. I don't mind them touching each other. I mind missing a shower. In this Too-Large-House that smells so much better than the rotting of the Clinic, the shower is fantastic.

"We are going to run, In," the Moon says. She is watching him with a vague sense of judgment. I can feel the burden of her frown like a boulder on my wolf. "You should stay here."

Mactiir's shoulders straighten, his chin lifts a notch. If the weight of the Moon bothers him, then his body refuses to show it. "I'm going," he says forcefully.

The Moon arches an eyebrow. "Can you? Is your wolf responsive? And if he is, then is he calm enough to be around his mate?"

A blunt-nailed finger the size of a sausage is pointed at me. "If my mate goes, then I go. If I can't, then she stays right fucking here with me."

"Inuit," the Moon seethes with anger.

"Lyri," he growls back.

I just stand there, looking back and forth between the two. The Laughing male approaches me, an easy grin on his face. "They're super cute when they argue, aren't they?" he asks me with a wink.

I tilt my head to the side, examining him. His hair is exactly the same shade as mine. His eyes are green, not like Mama's blue, but there is something vaguely familiar about the shape, the square corners that pinch in at the outer edge, the slope of the lid.

He is looking at me, too. "Thjis is right," he murmurs. "There's some crazy intelligence in you."

I feel my lips curl down. I'm not crazy. Or wild. Dumb pack wolves. I turn my attention to Mactiir and the Moon. They are glaring at each other, silent, brooding, measuring. I sigh out loud and start to take off my dress.

"Ah, what are you doing? No, no, little luna. Keep your clothes on."

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