I happily pulled open the suite’s custom Scottish flag refrigerator to do just that. And how cool was it that I could just grab a tub of yogurt without having to trek all the way to the ice house we’d built soon after our arrival in this Scottish village without knowing whether or not the tub we made every Saturday had run out?
Who needed a bunch of overeager Scottish males when you had yogurt and TV to keep you good company?
“I am definitely going to have fun eating you with an episode ofRap Star Wives,” I told my new boyfriend, Yogurt, as I closed the fridge.
Only to stop short when I heard a rustling sound.
“Hello?” I said again, sniffing at the air, just like I had a few hours ago when I thought I heard something stirring in the woods.
This time, though, a strange mix of incongruous scents drifted into my nose.
And a gravel-filled voice answered behind me, “Hiya.”
Same greeting, but my wolf stilled. Somehow, knowing it wasn’t the same male.
Even before I turned around to find two imposing male wolves towering over me.
My eyes registered them but could barely process their details.
One looked like some kind of pirate. He wore leather pants, a leather vest, and a thick diagonal chest strap holding at least ten knives. His long, rust-colored hair fell in several thick braids over the right side of his face, adorned with pieces of metal and bird feathers. The left side of his scalp was completely shaven, though, displaying a collection of tattoos that extended down to his neck and both of his arms all the way to the back of his hands.
The other wolf sported a kilt — but not like the plaid ones the Scottish Wolves pulled on instead of pants. His kilt was also made of leather, and large dusky gold earrings winked from his ears, and instead of a shirt, he wore a pelt over his otherwise naked torso. A pelt made from a bear.
I had never smelled a bear before. Had only ever seen them on the forbidden internet. But I knew that was what the second male's caped coat was made of because the dead creature's face, fangs andall, sat on top of his head. Casting a shadow over the living wolf's feral smile. Goosebumps raised across my skin, and my belly tightened.
“You were asking those oversteppingomadhaunabout the Irish Wolves earlier,” the one wearing a dead bear's skin said. His voice was more growl than breath.
He bowed his head like a guest who’d just popped by for a cup of tea. “I thought you might like to meet them.”
No…No…my heart thundered in my throat as everything I’d heard about the Irish Wolves echoed through my brain.
Sexual deviants…
…kidnapped all the Scottish she-wolves… Babies, girls, teens — even the bride who was already pregnant with the Scottish King’s baby.
Oh my gosh, Tara.Ellie!
Ellie, who was right on the other side of the bedroom door… which was now standing open behind them.
As it turned out, I was an even worse Wölfennite than I suspected.
The St. Ailbe Ordnung had several rules against any violence whatsoever. Males were not allowed to join any manner of fighting force, and she-wolves were not supposed to even raise so much as their voices in anger.
Turning outside the cage during our monthly shifts was strictly forbidden. Right before the last full moon, I overheard Milly telling my sister how Iain had tried to teach her to shift before her first official full moon. She admitted she couldn’t 'find her wolf,' and I was embarrassed to realize I hadn’t even known a voluntary shift was possible.
Seriously, the only thing Wölfennites were aggressive about was pacifism.
Yet, without hesitation, I reached for the butcher block sitting on the counter closest to me…
And pulled out the biggest knife I could find.
Naomi
I raised the knife,jabbing it at them like they do in those violent forbidden movies.
But instead of raising his hands like people were always doing when threatened in the movies I’d watched, the one in the bear hood grinned as if we were playing some sort of game.
“Aw, ye’ve got some fight in ye, Flower, unlike the others in your sect. I like it!”
