Acorn sat on the edge of the tub, grooming his face with both paws. He looked pleased with himself.
“What did you do?” I asked.
He chirped in an innocent way that set my nerves on edge.
I narrowed my eyes at him, then noticed the breakfast roll tucked beside his foot on the tile, stolen from whatever delivery I hadn’t heard arrive.
“You’re impossible.”
A wolf who teases is a wolf who cares,he said, his tone smug.Though he’d sooner run than admit it, I’d dare… say.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He sat up straighter, his tail bristling. His whiskers twitched, and with a huff, he grabbed his stolen roll and leaped off the tub edge, bounding toward the door.
I followed him out into the sitting room but stopped.
Feral sat at the small dining table near the window, already dressed in a simple tunic and pants that did nothing to disguise his muscular frame. Two plates waited on the table, steam rising from whatever the kitchens had sent up.
He hadn’t started eating.
He’d waited for me.
I noticed the two cups next. Tea? The delicate floral scent drifted across the room.
My grandmother had sent a letter ahead of the wedding with my preferences. I hadn’t mentioned it. I’d assumed it would get filed away with all the other formal correspondence that came with a strategic alliance.
Apparently not.
I walked over to the table and sat down across from him.
Acorn immediately launched himself onto the table to attack the breakfast spread. He bypassed the fruit and pastries, heading straight for the platter of sliced meat that Feral had claimed as his own.
Feral’s eyes tracked the squirrel’s movement, his expression darkening. A growl rumbled through his chest.
Acorn ignored him and stuffed a piece of meat into his mouth, his cheeks bulging.
“Acorn,” I said.
He grabbed another piece.
Feral’s hand moved fast, catching the squirrel by his tail just as he reached for the jam.
They stared at each other.
The great wolf hoards his kill, guards it close with ancient skill,Acorn said in my mind.But bread and jam are squirrel domain, stolen goods are not our shame.
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. “He says that while hoarding food may be wolf nature, stealing it is squirrel nature. He considers it a fair trade.”
Feral’s mouth twitched. “Tell him if he steals from my plate again, I’ll hang him from the window by his tail.”
“He heard you.”
Acorn chattered a statement that definitely didn’t need translating and scampered to my side of the table, claiming a piece of bread before flinging himself off and soaring over to the back of the sofa. He landed and started eating.
Feral picked up his fork, spearing a piece of meat with more force than was necessary.
I sipped my tea. Perfect temperature. The right blend.
