Page 14 of Of Wolves and Wives

She shakes her head.

“No. That’s too short,” she whispers, her breathing becoming more rapid. “It’s not enough time!”

“Time? Time for what?”

“To come up with a plan to escape.”

Her hands begin to shake uncontrollably, and I suddenly realize my mistake.

Before I have the chance to clarify, to fix the misunderstanding, her breathing becomes too quick as I try to calm her down. She pushes me away, and I rise from the bench to give her space.

She’s hyperventilating thanks to me. Because I wasn’t careful enough with my words, she believes her life has been cut shorter by at least seven months.

Cursing myself, my own panic grows to match hers as I watch her struggle to breathe.

Not knowing what else to do, I suddenly shift into my wolf form, and Hazel is forced to refocus as she takes me in. I take a step forward, and drop my head to nuzzle it against her.

Tentatively, she runs her fingers through my fur and I encourage her by giving her a low rumbling growl of approval. Carefully, I drop my head to her lap, allowing her to pet me until her breathing has finally returned to normal.

Raising my head, I give her cheek a gentle lick before shifting back into my form and pulling her into my arms. She clings to me as I hold her tightly to me.

I know I’m being selfish by stealing this moment, but we both need it. There’s a long battle that lies before us, but for now, I don’t want her to worry about that.

“You have time,” I whisper, tilting her chin up toward me.

“How can you say that?”

I search her face for a long moment before gently moving my hand to brush aside a stray hair and tuck it back behind her ear.

“Because,” I answer, “you are not a shifter. Mixed pregnancies have no exact timeline. It won’t be the full nine months as it would for you humans, but it won’t be two months either. From what I’ve heard, you should have at least four months, perhaps more. Some humans have carried for up to six months, or so I’ve been told.”

“I see,” she says, a small amount of relief pooling in her eyes at this, before her brow furrows again. “And if … if I’m not going to survive, how soon will we know?”

My mouth grows dry at her question, and I find it hard to swallow as I think of a way to answer her.

“Soon.”

“How soon, Pierce?”

“Weeks, perhaps days, at most.”

She nods slowly at this, her eyes unseeing, and my heart breaks for her yet again. A soft breeze rustles the vines around us, bringing with it the heavy scent of roses. Something that should be beautiful, but only serves to remind me of how undeserving this place is of it.

Just as we are of Rose.

“I worry that I won’t be able to survive what’s to come,” Rose says, voicing what I dare not even think.

Cupping her cheek in my hand as she lifts her eyes to mine, I shake my head at her.

“You’re far too strong to worry about that,” I say softly. She gives me a sad smile, and it takes what little restraint I still have to not drop my lips to hers. That would be entirely too selfish of me.“No matter what, Rose, I promise we’ll take care of you.”

My arms tighten around her as she tucks her head against my chest, and my heart beats painfully against it.

“No matter what?”

“No matter what,” I answer. “You are ours, and we will do everything in our power to prove we are worthy of you. This I swear to you.”

I would sacrifice everything for her, even my own life if it would keep her safe. From this day forward, I swear on my parents’ graves that I’ll protect her, no matter the cost.

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