Not at all.
The pendant is beautiful. There's no denying that.
But I don't need any more confirmation that I'm making the right choice.
Chapter 3
SEAN
I wakeup with a face full of Micah's armpit and an elbow in my kidney.
Worth it.
Because somewhere in the tangle of limbs and blankets that's become our nightly configuration, she's here. Not just physically, even though my leg is definitely draped over some part of Regina's body. I meanherein a way that makes my wolf want to roll over and show his belly like a complete simp.
It's still wild to me that this is real.
That the spell Sadie cast actually worked, and the woman sleeping in our pile is the one the universe picked out for us. My wolf knew it the second he caught her scent.Mine, he'd growled, and for once I didn't argue with him.
I crack one eye open, trying not to move too much. The room is dim, early morning light filtering through curtains Rowan insisted we hang because "civilized people don't wake up at dawn like farm animals, Sean."
Whatever. I liked the sunshine. But I like Regina more, and she needed the sleep.
Speaking of which…
She's curled up in the center of our pile, exactly where she belongs. Killian's got her back, one massive arm wrapped around her waist like he's afraid she'll evaporate if he lets go. Rowan's on her other side, and Micah's somehow ended up perpendicular to everyone else, which explains the armpit situation.
And me? I'm at her feet again.
It's becoming a thing.
I don't even mind. From here, I can see her face without being creepy about it. And right now, with her glamour completely down and the soft light turning her scars pearly silver, she looks like something out of a fucking dream.
The scars don't bother me. Never have, never will. But I know they bother her, which is why seeing her like this, unguarded and trusting us enough to let the magic drop while she sleeps, gives me the warm fuzzies.
She's so fucking beautiful it actually hurts.
And okay, I know she'd be mad, but I love the little snarl. The way the scar tissue pulls at her lip, showing a hint of teeth even when she's relaxed. She hates it. I've seen the way she angles her face to hide it, the way her hand drifts up to cover her mouth when she forgets her glamour is down.
But to me? It's adorable.
And it makes her look fierce as fuck.
Like even in sleep, she's ready to bite back. My wolf fuckinglovesit.Our mate has teeth, he practically purrs.Our mate is strong. Our mate survived a fucking werewolf attack. Our mate can survive ANYTHING.
She'd probably smack me if she knew. But I can't help it. Every part of her is perfect to me, including the parts she thinks are broken.
The scars are proof she lived. Proof that something tried to break her and failed. Every silver line is a middle finger to the universe and I amsofucking here for it.
My wolf rumbles in agreement. We're simple creatures, him and me. We see our mate, we want to protect her, provide for her, make her laugh until she snorts that adorable little snort she pretends doesn't happen.
The complicated emotional shit? That's more Rowan's territory. I just know what I feel.
And what I feel is fucking happy. Because she stayed, and now she's safe and warm and surrounded by four dumbass wolves who'd burn the world down for her without hesitation.
I let my senses expand the way only a wolf's can. Her heartbeat is slow and steady. Her scent is mossy forest and the hint of stormy air carrying her magic.
Then it changes.
