I know it’s irrational. My wolf’s possessiveness is amplified because she doesn’t carry my mark. The mating mark wouldn’t deter human men; they wouldn’t even be able to see it, much less understand what it means. But my wolf would know she is claimed. And that knowledge alone would pacify him. It would stop this constant need to eliminate every perceived threat.
But she doesn’t carry my mark. And until she does, my wolf will see every male as competition.
I turn off the water, grab a towel, and rub it roughly through my hair. This is getting out of hand. I’m getting out of hand.
I catch my reflection in the mirror, water still dripping down my chest. My jaw is tight with tension, and my eyes have that wild edge that comes from my wolf riding too close to the surface.
“You’re pathetic,” I mutter to my reflection.
I’m toweling off when I notice the amber bottle on the counter. My wolf perks up, curious. Violet’s scent clings to it.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.
I pick it up anyway.
The bottle is small and unmarked except for a handwritten label I can’t quite make out. The cap twists off easily, and the smell makes my wolf’s hackles rise instantly. Some herbs I recognize, others I don’t, all mixed into something that causes warning signals to go off in my head. My wolf recoils, growling low in my chest, but I don’t understand why. It’s just some medication. Isn’t it?
“What are you doing?”
Her voice pierces the tiled room around me. I turn my head to find Violet in the doorway, wrapped in a sheet, panic flickering across her face.
She moves faster than I expect, snatching the bottle from my hands. “You can’t just go through my things.”
“I wasn’t going through your things. It was sitting right there.” I keep my voice calm even as questions flood my mind. “What isthat, Violet?”
“Nothing.” She clutches the bottle against her chest. “Just medicine.”
“There’s something off about it.” I take a step closer, and she retreats the same distance. The movement guts me. “Talk to me.”
“Of course it smells off to you.” Her jaw sets in that stubborn line I’m learning means she’s rebuilding walls. “You’ve probably never had to take any medicine in your life.”
She’s right. Shifters don’t get sick. Our healing keeps us healthy, strong, resistant to almost everything that plagues humans.
“What’s it for?” I press.
“I get sick very frequently.” She turns away, heading back into the bedroom. “My immune system is like a human’s even though I have shifter blood. These pills help keep me stable.”
I file that information away, along with a mental note to find out exactly what she’s taking. But I can see the defensive set of her shoulders, the way her fingers tighten on the bottle. If I push too hard, she’ll hide it. She’ll lock me out completely.
So, I change tactics. “Get dressed. You’re taking the day off work.”
She blinks at me. “What? I can’t just take a day off.”
“Since I’m your boss, that’s up to me.” I move past her into the bedroom, where my clothes lay in a heap from last night. Violet comes in as I start to pull on my pants. “You need a dress for the gala. Shoes. Jewelry. All of it.”
She gapes at me. “What gala?”
Oh. Right. I haven’t told her.
“There’s an event this weekend. It’s in Miami this year. The pack has to send delegates, and Father wants the two of us to go together.”
I watch confusion cloud her eyes.
“Why would he want me to go?”
To help you find a mate. The words hover on my tongue, bitter and unwelcome. That’s what he said. Expose her to other packs. Let her meet other wolves.
But I have no intention of helping her find anyone.
