Shit.
I opened my mouth to tell him he didn’t need to know, that it was private friend time, but Daphne cut in before I could speak.
“It’s an activity we do every Sunday now that we’re all living in Ryeville.” Her voice had gone soft, dreamy. The way it always did when she talked about books. “We used to do it the last Sunday of every month, but it’s better to see each other weekly. We pick a book, all read it, then get together to discuss it.”
Malachar made an appreciative noise. “That sounds like an excellent tradition. Reading is important in Lytopia as well. Though we have fewer books than your world seems to possess.”
“We cherish it,” Daphne continued. “Books are how we connect. How we understand each other and the world.”
Oh no. I could see where this was going. Could feel the question coming before he asked it.
“What book are you reading currently?”
No. Nope. Absolutely not.
I lunged for the coffee table where the book sat, spine-up, cover hidden. But Malachar was faster. He saw me move and his hand shot out, grabbing the book before I could reach it.
He held it up, examining the cover with interest. “This one?”
The cover showed a shirtless man with his shirt half-open, a woman pressed against him, her head thrown back. The title was in bold, embossed letters: “Claimed by the Alpha.”
Kill me. Kill me now. Let the earth open up and swallow me whole.
My friends were silent. I could feel their eyes on me. Could feel the horror radiating off Bella. The barely suppressed laughter from Krystin. The delight from Daphne.
Malachar was studying the cover with a frown. “‘Claimed by the Alpha,’” he read aloud. His frown deepened. “This is about wolves?”
“Yes,” Daphne said, her voice bright with barely suppressed glee.
“No,” I said at the same time.
He looked at me, then back at the book. Flipped it over to read the back cover. His eyebrows rose higher and higher as he read.
“This is about a human woman who is claimed by an alpha wolf as his mate,” he said slowly. “They bond. She bears his mark. There is... conflict with other pack members who do not accept her. But in the end, their love conquers all obstacles.” He looked up at me, eyes glinting with amusement. “This sounds familiar.”
“It’s fiction,” I said desperately. “Pure fiction. Made up. Not real.”
“But you are reading it.” The amusement in his voice was undeniable now. “You and your friends gather every week to discuss stories of wolves claiming their human mates.”
“We read all kinds of books! Last month we read a demon romance. The month before that was vampires. It’s not specific to wolves.”
“But this month,” he said, still smiling, “you chose wolves.”
Krystin was biting her lip so hard I was worried she’d draw blood. Bella had buried her face in her hands. Daphne looked ready to start taking notes.
“We picked it before you showed up,” I said. “It’s a coincidence.”
That was a lie. Krystin had pitched this book after the Halloween debacle. Said we needed to “research wolf dynamics.” Daphne and Bella had immediately agreed. I’d been outnumbered three to one. Democracy was a bitch.
“A fascinating coincidence.” He flipped through the pages, and I wanted to die when I saw the sticky notes. The highlighted passages. The annotations we’d all made. “You have marked many sections. Made notes. ‘This is hot.’ ‘I wish my boyfriend would do this.’ ‘Alpha energy.’ ‘The growling is everything.’”
“Oh my god, stop reading those out loud.”
“‘The way he scents her makes me feral,’” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “‘I need a man who looks at me the way he looks at her.’” He looked up, eyes meeting mine. “These are your notes, little mate?”
“Those could be anyone’s notes!”
“This is your handwriting.” He pointed to a section. “I have seen you write. You bite your pen and tilt your head to the left. These notes have that same quality. Slightly smudged. Definitely yours.”
