Solomon’s voice dropped to the register that made seasoned soldiers reconsider their career choices. “If Thiago questions her absence and you fail to provide convincing cover, I will find you, Wyatt.”
Lucian leaned over Solomon’s shoulder. “Add extra hours. She returns tonight. Not before.”
The radio went quiet. Then:“Copy.”
Mira appeared behind them. “Did you two just threaten Wyatt?”
“We clarified expectations,” Solomon said.
“I could hear his voice shaking from across the clearing.”
She threw a berry at Solomon’s head. He caught it without looking and ate it.
Late afternoon, our wolves came out.
Solomon shifted first, dropping to all fours mid-stride, his gray wolf padding toward the den where Mira sat reading documents. He circled her twice, pressed his muzzle against her belly, and lay down with his body curved around her, enclosing her completely.
Lucian’s black wolf emerged from the tree line carrying a rabbit. Fresh kill, deposited at Mira’s feet. He sat back on his haunches, watching with amber eyes, waiting.
“Did you just... bring me a dead animal?”
The black wolf’s tail twitched once. A dignified acknowledgement.
“Lucian, I can’t eat a raw rabbit.”
The wolf pushed it closer with his nose. Solomon’s gray wolf huffed judgment from behind her.
“Are you two having a disagreement about my dietary preferences? In wolf form? While I’m sitting right here?”
The black wolf picked up the rabbit and carried it to Farmon, who looked down at the offering and sighed. “He wants me to cook it for you.”
My shift hit without warning. Brown fur, four legs, and an overwhelming compulsion to press my body against my mate. I trotted to the den, nudged my muzzle under her arm until herhand landed on my head. She scratched behind my ear and every coherent thought I’d ever had dissolved.
“Three wolves,” she murmured. Solomon warm against her back. Lucian settling at her feet, massive head resting on her ankle. “You guys are cute in this form. It actually makes me feel lighter. Better.”
Her voice went soft. The underneath of it carried the warmth she reserved for moments when she let herself feel safe.
“You’re ridiculous,” she whispered. “All three of you.”
My tail wagged, involuntary.
And Mira sat in the center of three wolves with her hands on her belly and her eyes closed. Peace on her face that had been absent for weeks.
The wolves shifted back eventually. Farmon served the rabbit, and Mira ate every bite while Lucian watched with the restrained satisfaction of a provider whose offering had been accepted.
Farmon caught my arm while I was reaching for my shirt.
“You’re courting her,” he said.
“We’re just spending the day and helping her recover.”
“You arranged fruits during breakfast, built a fire calibrated to the temperature that makes her shoulders drop. Solomon ground supplements six hours early. Your king requisitioned new boots and just hunted a rabbit in wolf form and delivered it to her feet.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you shifted without deciding to. Lycan courtship behavior. Instinctual, amplified after a threat to mate or offspring. You probably had no idea you were doing any of it.”
I looked at the fire. At the plate still sitting by the den, the new boots on Mira’s feet, and the rabbit bones on Farmon’s station.
“So we’ve all been doing mating dances all day and nobody told us?”
