Beric chuckles. “She is definitely the one, then. You said you marked her. Where did you find her, and how did she react to you?”
“In the woods. Afterward. She had fled there.”
“Already drawn to us,” Alden says, nodding.
“I believe so. Although I’m surprised Mistress Nina didn’t put a ward on her. She is not so congenial toward our kind.”
“You make a good point,” Beric agrees, frowning now. “The seamstress is canny. And aware that we would see a pretty, young, unmated lass as our right to claim. She would know as much.”
“Well, it is our luck that she did not,” Alden says. “Mistress Nina will know what the marks on the door mean. It is her duty to prepare the lass.”
“Everybody in the godsdamned town will know what the marks mean,” I say, dryly.
“They better not hurt her,” Beric suddenly growls. “Most of them are weak and superstitious. And besides, it is been a year since our pack collected a wolf tithe for their protection. Their memories fade too soon.”
“They will not hurt her,” I say, although I am now struck by a sense of worry. “Mistress Nina will caution any fool against it. But before we can claim her, we have matters we must attend. The pack leader demands a challenge for any wolf who would take a human mate… even me.”
Alden rakes his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. “Torric will approve it. He has a mate of his own and will be congenial to others mating. His lass has mellowed his temper for sure.”
“He will approve it,” I agree, “or I will challenge the bastard myself.”
Alden smirks. “Your aggression is already rising,” he says approvingly. “How does she taste? Did you taste her cunt?”
I huff out a breath. “I marked her throat. The lass was shaking and terrified, although she certainly smelled of lust as well. It was not the fucking time to be tasting her pussy. It would have tipped my wolf over the edge. I’d have rutted her then and there. Which would not have been advisable, for we do not yet have permission, and, further, have not prepared our quarters for her as good wolf mates should.”
“A mate,” Alden says, grinning now. “Finally, it is our turn to claim a mate.”
“Aye,” I say. My gaze moves over our quarters, which are part of the bigger pack cave system. Spacious, as befits our high-ranking status. But the bed is made for our wolves, not a human lass. “We shall need fresh pelts, and more of them. Along with other things a human mate will need.”
“Those scented washing sands that human mates among our pack seem to love so well,” Alden suggests.
“Reckon there will be some in the stores from the last tribute. If not, we can send for some. The townsfolk will be more amenable in the wake of an attack.”
“And books,” Beric says. “Human lasses have a weakness for books of all kinds. We should get a selection and note which ones she favors.”
“Rugs, too,” Alden adds. “Something to soften the stone floor. Our wolves do not mind so much, but she is a human and will find it rough and cold on her little naked toes.”
“She could wear shoes,” Beric points out.
We both turn and glare at him.
“Ah.” His lips curve up. “No shoes. No clothes of any kind. That is a privilege she will need to earn. I agree—we shall need the softest rugs for the floor. We will need to clean out the fireplace, and stack plenty of wood beside it. The cold does not trouble a wolf, but our human lass will need to be comfortable.”
“Indeed,” I agree, thinking about how my wolf fur will keep our precious mate warm. She may snuggle her cold toes against me…
I stretch out my neck and ignore the hardness of my cock. “I fucking hate this form. But we need to stay as human a while yet, else we cannot get everything to her liking.”
“Do you think she’d take to our wolves, too?” Alden asks hopefully.
I think about her against the tree, trembling, her eyes wide—but that aroused tendril crawling in the back of my throat before it lodged in the center of my chest… telling me she is the one.
“Aye,” I say, scraping a hand down my stubbly jaw. “Mayhap the lass might prefer it.”
EVANTHE
Mistress Nina leads me through to the kitchen, then bustles about, setting the kettle to boil. She shoos me off to wash up and change.
When I return, the kitchen is warm and cheery. Bacon sandwiches wait on two plates at the table and she has poured the tea. She has washed up in my absence too, and takes the seat opposite, stirring a generous spoonful of honey into her tea.
