She nodded slowly. “All right. So, Saturday, after the reception—”
“Sunday, after everyone leaves,” he dragged her back on track.
With a pout that stuck her delectable lower lip right in his face, she grumbled, “How am I supposed to keep this from Ren?”
“She’ll be busy getting married.”
“Not at the bachelorette party! Not all day Friday! Not all day Saturday while we’re getting ready for the wedding.”
“Fern,” he growled. “You can’t tell her about shifting even after we’re mated.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Saturday—”
“Sunday.”
“Sunday, we kick this off. And I finally get to feel you inside me?”
He tried to answer in the affirmative but only managed a throaty groanwhen she arched her back, planted her palms on the stone beside his calves, and ground herself against his erection.
He wouldn’t fuck her in the cave, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have that snack she’d brought up. Urging a partial shift, his nails grew clawed and—frankly—creepy. But when he lifted one to her throat, lightly scraping from the base of her chin to dip beneath her collar, she whimpered and caught his gaze, her pupils blown wide.
“You’re in control,” she murmured before tossing her head back and giving over to him.
19
Fern drinks champagne.
“Hurryup!”Livcalledout the window.
Fern bounded toward the Subaru, her backpack slung around front as she shoved a pair of flip-flops on top and struggled with the zipper.
“Hey there, little mama.”
Scowling, Olivia reached across the passenger seat to fling open the door. “You’re in a great mood.”
“Fuck yes. I’m excited for this bachelorette night, but I can’t wait for this wedding to be over. Mating, moving in…”
“That’s so rude. What about Ren?”
Grinning, Fern chucked her bag in the back seat and reached for her seat belt. “I don’t know how I’m going to manage.”
“Manage what? Moving in with Elliott?”
“No, I’m excited for that.” He wanted to start sharing a home, officially, the moment their mate bond was complete. The only downside she could think of was that her commute would get three minutes longer—a perfectly fine trade-off for the life she’d live with him. Scratching her new, long nails along the textured plastic of the door frame, she asked, “How do you stop yourself from spilling the beans to humans?”
“You just can’t,” Liv said matter-of-factly, clicking on her turn signal. “It would put our lives at risk.”
“But I wanna tell Ren. She won’t say anything.”
“Not intentionally, but what if she let it slip to someone else? They might decide she’s bonkers and think less of her, or worse, they’ll believe her, and we’ll end up underpaid stars of the next TLC special.”
“Would that be so bad? It’s called theLearningChannel, Liv.”
“Have you watched it in the last twenty years? It’s exploitative.”
“Whatever, boss.”
“It’s alpha.”
