Page 38 of Her Wolf's Demands

Sighing, I nodded, slumping as the remainder of my energy left me. No doubt I’d get a lecture about how reckless it was going to the coven’s headquarters without him. Was there a nice way to tell the mate who had rescued me to F off? I just needed sleep.

“Thank you,” I muttered instead, resigning myself to the berating I was about to receive. “For being my wolf in shining armour.”

Stepping close to me, he ran a finger down the back of my arm. It was the simplest of gestures, and yet, a shudder slipped through me. Just his presence was enough to fire up my insides. Ah, sleep was underrated.

“Why didn’t you trust me enough to ask me to come?” Frowning, he fiddled with a strand of my hair. “And Rochelle? How was she there with you?”

Bohdi stretched by the fire, clearly knowing that we were talking about his rescue. He had settled in quickly, ignoring the wolves as he’d explored his new home, apparently unfazed by his catnapping… nope, that didn’t work.

Turning my head to look up at Malone, I smiled. “We’re BFFs now. And I knew you wouldn’t let me go. Ertha wants me dead, you want me alive. I couldn’t see my request being granted. Plus, I had mentioned it to you. You weren’t keen.”

Opening his mouth to protest, he froze, unable to deny my accusation. Instead, he rolled his eyes and put an arm over my shoulder, inspecting the painting. The standing stones were painted cream with dirt marks and a – shit, wait, was that a pentagram on it?

“Look,” I said, “this is the mark the witches use to channel power. We know that the Brighton Coven visit the stones for their rituals, but I think…” Frowning, I traced the star within the circle, cringing when a spark of sharp magic pricked my skin.

“Tell me.” Malone’s voice was tight as he squeezed my shoulder.

The standing stones were on Malone’s pack lands. It was no wonder they had been miffed that the witches refused to obey the treaty. The wolves could change at any time, but on the full moon, they had less control of their senses and were always forced to shift against their will.

“What was it like…” I asked, curiosity taking over, “…when you found out that you could turn into a wolf? I mean, it was hard enough for me to learn that I was different from those in school. That I had the gift of magic. I was never very good at it, but hiding it from people, and having the power to hurt others in a way that couldn’t be understood by humans always made me feel afraid.”

Huffing, Malone pulled out an intricately carved chair and sat, indicating that I do the same. Reluctantly ignoring the call of the bed, I lowered myself, staring at the painting again.

“It first happens when you’re sixteen. It’s a coming of age process, the shift being your key to adulthood. If you survive it well, you are respected. Others struggle with it, taking several goes before it becomes natural.”

“I bet you were a pro straight away,” I quipped, laughing gently.

His jaw tightened and his gaze dipped to the wooden surface of the table. “Actually, I wasn’t. It took me five times to get the hang of it. My father had thrown a first shift party for me, in the hope of proving that I was a worthy heir.”

“Oh, bloody hell. Don’t tell me, the pressure was too much? I would’ve crumbled, not able to perform my magic if anyone wanted to show me off.”

Tilting his head to the side, he regarded me. “It’s like you know me already. I probably don’t need to tell you the story.”

I took his hand and held it between mine, squeezing gently. “I want to hear.”

“Alright.” His shoulders straightened as he looked at me, his eyes glazing over. “The whole pack were there, including my sister and her boyfriend, who was one of the boys about to go through the shift with me. My father shouted at everyone, inviting them to watch the first ever shift by the future alpha.”

I didn’t need to roll my eyes, the former alpha had been a prick. I wouldn’t say that to Malone, although I had no doubt he would agree. Were there any good fathers out there?

“Of course, most people gathered around me, sending me good wishes. My father silenced them and forced me to get on my hands and knees to wait. I was there for thirty minutes, my muscles straining, before the shift started. I hold my hands up,” he said, doing just that, “I cried at the pain. I couldn’t handle it. Rather than let the shift lead, I tried to control it, which prolonged the agony.”

His cringe made me stay quiet. I didn’t want to interrupt him, especially when he was telling a particularly sensitive story about his life. One that made me want to snuggle his gruff head into my chest, just to soothe him.

“He was so embarrassed by how long it took me that when I finally finished my shift into a wolf, he kicked me repeatedly, shouting that I was weak. The onlookers slowly moved away, marvelling at the speed of my sister’s boyfriend’s shift.” Shaking his head, he blinked slowly. “He took to it like a dog to fox shit.”

“Ew, you don’t roll in shit, do you?”

The corner of his lip lifted into his cheek, amusement breaking the tension that held his muscles firm. “No, I can’t say I do.”

“Go on,” I urged.

“Manual – yes, he was the son-of-a-bitch who showed me up – became my beta. My father insisted that he break up with my sister and work with me to perfect my shift.”

Shaking my head, I frowned. “Your poor sister.”

“Poor sister?” he almost spat, a blast of laughter shooting from him. “She wasn’t the one who was humiliated by both our father and my now best friend.”

His hilarity doused, leaving him with a dour expression. I stifled my own chuckle, stuffing it deep down. It was amazing how self-occupied these alphas were, with their puffed chests and woe is me attitude. Maybe itwastime for a change.

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