Page 96 of Conner's Luna

"It's not just throwing pills down a female's throat," Uncle Alex growls. "And there aren't any 'magic bullets'," he glares at Dad.

Dad smirks and makes the stroking gesture again.

"It's a fucking waste of resources if it's not being used correctly," Uncle Alex snarls.

"Not if it involves genetic pairing," I interject. Bailey's face flits through my mind. Wasn't she telling me about her work at the lab? "It actually makes sense. Take the strongest wolves and pair them together. Fuck the goddess' plan, and hope that your pack can become more powerful each generation."

Is this why Lydia rejected me? Was I notpowerfulenough for her? Worse, is Wilkinson forcing her to be some sort of... breeder?

"What is their explanation for Inuit Genom then?" Dad points out. "Then there's Carmichael, that fucker. Hell, the Punk is an alpha, too. Not the strongest," he amends. "But he was born to an omega mother."

"Inuit's parents weren't truemates," I point out. "That could have bolstered the idea that you can create stronger wolves from unmated pairs."

"It's a risk," Uncle Alex says thoughtfully. "It's always a crapshoot, isn't it? You never know when a TrueBorn is going to pop up and upend the status quo. Or if an alphason will truly be an alpha."

"Or if an alphason will be MateLess," Dad says.

"But in a lab, you can control the outcome," Uncle Lyall says. "Or you think you can."

Ariana chimes in with a dead, flat voice. "There's no way of telling until the pup is born."

I take a step toward her, "Ariana, was your son expected or a disappointment?"

She begins to sob. "He's not my mate's pup," is her only answer. It suddenly casts the revelation in a new, darker light.

"So, RedMoon is trying to create stronger wolves by usingourfertility developments. Those assholes," Uncle Alex growls.

"And Lydia, my mate?" I ask Ariana. "Is she a part of this?"

Her eyes fall to her feet and my heart drops to the floor, too.

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Bailey

I'm wallowing unhappily, marooned in Conner's ginormous bed. My cramps are bad enough that I can't even enjoy the novelty of being in Conner Grim's bed. Even worse, my self-indulgence earlier is making me pay now.

If I wasn't curled into a tight little roly-poly ball, I could stretch out and my hands and feet wouldn't be able to reach the edges of the bed. That's how big the bed is. That's a problem if I need to vomit up the copious amounts of alcohol I drank earlier.

My back twinges. The ache grows to be a hurt and I know I need to find a different position. Feeling sorry for myself, I unfurl and twist, moaning as my uterus, then my stomach, then my head, all protest.

The door opens with a bang. A dark, ominously-large shadow barrels into the room and leaps on top of me. My shriek dies out on my tongue when a huge, furry face is shoved into mine.

At first, I think I'm being love-attacked by the dog no one told me about. It's happened before with my friend Jared's sheepdogs. Then, I realize this creature is much more massive than a mere dog could ever hope to be. Finally, I realize that it's Conner.

"What are you-" he nuzzles my sore belly, making me yelp.

"No," I say firmly. It's important to be stern with disobedient pets. Otherwise, they think they can walk all over you. "Off," I try, pushing the big snout away from me.

Of course, he's not a dog. He's so much worse. He's a man, so simple, clearly-stated commands don't work on him.

"Conner. It hurts," I snap. I go back into roly-poly position. He whines, then makes a low wuffling noise from the back of his throat. That wet, annoying nose touches my cheek, then finally disappears.

Only to show up right at my bottom. "Don't!" I snap, but he's smelling me anyway. "Rude," I huff, swatting at him ineffectually.

He huffs right back. Embarrassment starts to override my physical discomfort. I was hoping that the humiliation could wait until tomorrow when I feel better. I am not explaining my menstrual cycle to Conner-the-wolf-person. Nope. No way.

All of the sudden, the wolf lies down next to me, his weight and heat right on my back. I groan as the pleasant warmth seeps into my sore back muscles. "Oh, that feels wonderful," I murmur. "Don't move a muscle."

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