I grunted under her weight. I could ask the other she-wolves to help me. But I knew there was no way Amanda would want the other Wölfennites to smell the two new males on her, and the blanket could only do so much work to mask their claiming scent.
Besides, the difficulty of carrying her up a set of stairs gave me something to focus on as I blinked the tears of frustration from my eyes.
We'd been taken from Scotland. Sadie had been given to some rando giants. And now this.
Welcome to the world of the Irish Wolves.
The Irish Wolves had surprised me a third time, but never again. I would protect Amanda like I failed to protect Sadie. I would protect all of these she-wolves from our Irish captors.
I'd fight them, yes, I would. And I wouldn't stop until I got us all out of this nightmare of a world we'd woken up in.
Part Two
Dublin
From:Lars Ulvsson,Assistant to The Norway King
To:The Dublin King
Subject:Mate Exchange
After much consideration, The Norway King has decided he cannot accommodate your request. According to our geneticist, because our ancestors seeded much of your colony in the British Isles, the chances of a minor-scale program working less than a generation after our own necessary exchange program with the North American Lupine Association are not optimum.
Have you considered contacting the North American Lupine Association about an exchange as we did?
Wishing you luck in your endeavors,
Lars
As I read the message from the Norwegian King’s assistant in the elevator on my way up to the corporate offices of Norwolf Stout, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I hovered my thumb over the reply button, sorely tempted to type back: Didn’t think to inquire with the world’s largest and most diverse wolf population first. With me being an eejit and all that, I decided to start with you because you’re so special.
But, in the end, I pushed the phone's side button to darken the screen. Irish sarcasm didn’t always translate, especially over highly encrypted emails.
Also, I hadn’t drunk my first cup of coffee yet. When I was feeling less churlish, I’d probably be able to admit that I was just jealous. Norway had special ties to a few of the most powerful wolf families in North America, thanks to some business with their fating gates that I still didn’t quite understand.
Anyhow, Norway's Bridal Exchange requests had probably gone to the top of their list. Meanwhile, I’d gotten a form reply warning that it would be a while to hear back from them due to the high volume of requests for diplomatic mate exchanges. Four long months later, some algorithm had written back to tell me that, unfortunately, the North American exchange programs were so backlogged that they were freezing them altogether due to alack of interest from their state kingdoms.
Same went for the much more robust Eastern European and Asian Programs.
As a werefolk often (only partially) joked, wolves didn’t like to travel. And popular as we were with the humans, our kind especially had no interest in settling forever in smaller countries with endangered wolf populations like mine.
Norway hadn’t been my Plan A. They were my Plan C, and I hadno idea what I'd do if none of the countries I’d contacted agreed to an exchange.
I silently cursed and slipped the phone back into the inside pocket of my blazer just as the elevator doors opened on the top floor of Norwolf Stout's headquarters.
As usual, my assistant, Lambert, awaited my arrival with my coffee already in hand. Hellos from my subjects/employees in the cubicle farm rose all around us as we made our way through the offices above our world-famous brewery.
"Hiya, Dublin!"
"Hello there, Dublin! Hope you're well then."
"Morning, Dublin!"
Meanwhile, Lambert immediately launched into his usual morning rundown.
“We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. All the tours are booked out for the entire week, and the lads on the main floor want to have another talk about over-capacity before we open the calendar for the summer. Also, we might need to have a chat with Scrubber Steve about standards and practices. He didn't fill out the weekend check-off list again, and the canteen was a right mess when I went in to make your morning coffee. Other than that, this afternoon, you have meetings with…”
I mostly zoned out while Lambert rattled off the usual crowd of bigwigs who refused to accept an email in lieu of a face-to-face meeting: distributors, retail chain bosses, and those glossy marketing execs who just had to spin your ear as they walked you through their new packaging ideas.
