Page 63 of Claiming the Wolf Daddy

I sighed as I looked down at her, my heart aching with my love for her. It killed me that she was still feeling so nervous about us. I was desperate to assure her that there was nothing she or anyone else could do to make me want to leave her.

Hopefully, now that I’d claimed her, it would serve as adequate proof of our mating bond until I could get a ring on her finger. I didn’t plan on making her wait long, but it would be difficult to find the time to go ring shopping while we were busy with Travis’s transition and all the work we had cut out for us with the pack—the fact that we weren’t in the habit of spending much time apart notwithstanding.

I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes, taking a few moments to breathe and relax. Jack and Travis were somewhere deeper in the plane, probably making plans to shoot more B-roll and discussing what they wanted to highlight in their docuseries. According to the small screen in front of me, we were set to land in New Middle Bluff in less than an hour.

I was looking forward to seeing my son and my parents. I was not looking forward to the peanut gallery’s looks and comments about my claiming Marley. Yes, my father had encouraged me to do it, but something about that made me feel uncomfortable. It was such a vulnerable and treasured moment for me and Marley, and I didn’t want it to be cheapened or have other people in our lives poke fun at us.

I didn’t have long to get more comfortable with the idea, though—besides, it wasn’t the last time I’d have to worry about my scent now being merged with Marley’s. Any shifter who came across us would know what I’d done.

I wish I knew why that notion made me feel so bad. It wasn’t as if I’d forced it on her. She’d wanted to do it. And thanks to our growing connection as mates, I even had the biofeedback of her feelings to confirm it.

So, why did it make me feel like such a toxic, possessive piece of shit?

Maybe Marley was right. Maybe it was time for me to start going to therapy. I snorted to myself. Of course she was right. She was always good about that sort of thing, always emotionally intelligent, thoughtful, and empathetic. And it wasn’t like the road was about to get any easier. I’d have more than just her and Noah to think about soon—I’d have an entire group of people depending on me and my calls. I needed to make sure my head was thoroughly screwed onto my shoulders.

Brushing my fingers through Marley’s hair again, I willed a deep breath into my chest. I kept the recycled air in my lungs for a beat, then exhaled slowly. Then I did it again, and again, and again for the remainder of the flight. I tried my best to be present, to be grateful for everything I had. To really internalize all I’d done right lately and all the things I was so utterly grateful for.

I stayed like that until the pilot announced our descent into New Middle Bluff. I brushed my fingers through Marley’s hair a little more forcefully and leaned forward to talk to her.

“Marley, baby, we’re landing. You gotta get up, sweetheart.”

She groaned, draping her hand over her eyes and snuggling deeper into my lap. “Tired.”

“I know,” I said, unable to keep the adoring smile off my face as I watched her wiggle like a sleepy kitten. “But you know how these things are. Gotta be buckled in and have your seat in an upright position.”

She groaned again, her lips curving down in a pout, her hand still over her eyes. “Okay.”

I helped her right herself, supporting her weight so she could get settled in her own seat again. When she was up, her eyes were still closed, and her brow furrowed as she wobbled sleepily. I tried not to laugh as I reached over and buckled her in, tightening the strap so she was good and safe.

“Can I nap at home?” she asked.

“Sure, sweetheart,” I said, stopping near her head to press a kiss to her temple. “We had a late night and a busy morning.”

“Mmm,” she said before letting her head loll back against the headrest again as she drifted right back to sleep.

I let her get the rest she needed, checking that she was still upright as we started to coast toward the runway. The skinny veins of freeways below us began to expand, the cars looking like little toys. Marley woke up properly when the plane’s wheels scraped on the ground below us, reaching for my hand as we fully touched down and the plane reduced its velocity to a slow taxi.

I smiled at her as the pilot came on the speakers to tell us the weather and list the gates for various connecting flights. Marley squeezed my hand and rested her head on my shoulder.

“Love you,” she said in sleepy appreciation.

“Love you, too, baby,” I said.

It was tender moments like these, the little stolen affections, that I lived for. I wanted nothing more than to experience a lifetime of these little mundanities.

When the plane finally pulled up to the gate, Marley and I stayed seated. We figured it’d be better to wait to see Jack and Travis approach than try to fight the crowd to get our bags and wrestle out of the door.

When we finally saw them, Travis was almost glowing with excitement.

“Listen, Cole, I’ve got so many things to run by you. Marley, your brother is a fucking cinematic genius, by the way,” he rambled. “What do you think about me doing my first injection at your house?”

“My house? Why?” I asked, splitting my attention between listening to him and making sure my sleepy mate didn’t bonk her head on the overhead bin. When I was certain she wouldn’t hurt herself, I reached up for our bags. “What makes my place such an interesting location for the first dose of your gene therapy?”

“You guys said you’re going to gather up the forces and start figuring out how to get things moving, right?” Jack said. “I thought it might be interesting to have the formation of your pack sort of line up with some of Travis’s milestones as he makes the transition into being a shifter.”

“Jack, I don’t mean you any offense by this,” I said, “but I’m not really interested in timing things for entertainment value.”

“No, no, no,” Jack said quickly. “Of course not. I’d never dream of having you do that. The narrative would be structured in post as far as the docuseries goes, and I’ll get a contract drafted that gives you an opportunity to see the footage and make sure you feel that everything is being presented in an accurate way.”

---