“I,” Estelle said with utter certainty, “am never,evergetting mated.”
“Yeah, hard pass,” Archie said. He thumped himself on the chest. “No one’s biting this bear.”
“I’ve never heard anyone complain about it,” Finley said, though he didn’t sound at all certain about the whole business either. “And anyway, if your mate is human, then you’ll be the one doing the biting.”
“Ugh.” Archie pulled a face. “No way. That’s unhygienic.”
“You ate a worm on the hike yesterday,” Estelle said to him.
“Yeah, well, that’s different.” Archie folded his arms. “Worms are delicious. I bet girls tastegross.”
“Do you think that’s why Honey and Buck haven’t mated yet?” Flora asked. “He doesn’t know he needs to bite her?”
“That’s not the problem.”
The voice came from the table behind them. Ignatius sat there, alone, behind an untouched block of clay. They’d forgotten that he was within earshot. Normally, he made a point of ignoring them all.
Estelle glared at the dragon shifter. “Butt out, motherlover. This is a private conversation.”
“No, let him talk,” Finley said, ever the optimist. He’d given up approaching Ignatius, but he wasn’t about to turn down a rare opportunity to coax the surly dragon shifter out of his shell. “Maybe Ignatius has seen something we’ve missed. He’s always standing back and watching from the sidelines, after all.”
A low growl rumbled in Rufus’s throat. He stared at Ignatius, eyes darkening to feral gold.
“Heispart of this pack,” Finley insisted. “We should hear him out.”
“I dunno, Finley,” Flora said, eying Ignatius dubiously. “He’s probably just trying to get us into trouble. Why would he even care about Honey and Buck?”
“Like it or not—and I definitely don’t—I’m part of this pathetic pack,” Ignatius countered. “I’m just as concerned about our so-called counselors as you are.”
Rufus slapped the table with a sharpcrack. Grabbing a sculpting knife, he scored rough, jagged lines across his clay:LYING
“You don’t need griffin eyes to see that, Rufus.” Estelle folded her arms across her chest. “The only thing this butthole cares about is finding an excuse to get out of camp.”
“It’s no secret that I would rather be anywhere else on the planet than this backwater hellhole,” Ignatius said coolly. “And it’s true that I couldn’t care less about Honey and Buck’s private lives. Given the choice, I would prefer not to eventhinkabout old people doing disgusting things to each other. My interest in the matter is entirely personal. It’s bad enough being stuck with you losers. If I have to keep watching those two blunder around like lobotomized lobsters, I’m going to vomit.”
The other children looked at each other, then to Rufus. He hesitated, hand hovering over the word he’d written. With clear reluctance, he addedNOTabove it—and then, in hurried, sprawling capitals underneath:BUT DON’T LISTEN TO HIM
“We should at least give him a chance, Rufus,” Finley said reasonably. “Sometimes it’s possible for people to work toward a common goal even when they have different motivations. And anyway, it’s not like we have a better idea. What’s on your mind, Ignatius?”
“You imbeciles are fixated on the wrong person.” Ignatius swept them with his customary disdainful stare, though there was a glitter of calculation in his eyes. “The problem isn’t Buck. It’s Honey.”
CHAPTER27
Finally, an evening off.
Honey breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped out of the shower. Being a summer camp counselor was even more exhausting than teaching—though also infinitely more rewarding. Much as she loved the kids, she was looking forward to some time to herself. After another long, busy week at camp, all she wanted was to retreat to her room and fall into bed.
Be honest, Honey. That’s notallyou want.
She grimaced at her reflection in the mirror as she towel-dried her hair. Maintaining her constant pretense was like having to balance a towering stack of plates. She couldn’t add any more lies to the teetering pile—not even to herself.
It was getting harder and harder to act like she was Buck’s mate. Not because it was difficult to hold his hand or gaze at him over the kids’ heads like a love-struck idiot.Thatwas easy.
The hard part was remembering to stop.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world to lean against his shoulder during a rest break. To let herself watch the movement of his muscles as he chopped wood for the campfire, or the gleam of sunlight on his skin. To tease him until he growled and shot herthatlook; the one that promised some later, private retribution, and always made her toes curl.
But of course that later moment never came. After the sports shed incident, he hadn’t pulled her into the woods or into an empty cabin again. Apparently, once had been enough, just as one kiss had been enough. He stuck religiously to their agreement—just enough public displays of affection to maintain the charade, and nothing more.
