Page 38 of Chaos At Second Sight

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LOGAN

My bare foot tapped the grass.

Patience had never been my greatest asset. Scratch that. There wasn’t a single ounce of patience anywhere in my system.

Maybe when it came to her, though…

But she didn’t appreciate my monumental effort not to smash her twin’s donkey face against the cider cart over there. I bet that would improve his looks.

Damn Islander. All innocent and cheerful while sneaking me side glares and flashing side fangs whenever no one was watching.

I winked at him and was rewarded with a grimace. He scratched his nose with his middle finger and turned to answer something his grandmother had asked. Probably whether he wants milk and a spoonful of honey before bed. Loser.

How unfortunate that my mate happened to be his sister. Not that I was complaining. Not even a little. Because she couldn’t be more perfect.

Actually, scratch that too. Perfect wasn’t a big enough word.

As usual, my eyes found her. She was standing beside Uncle Clyde—or was that Uncle Angus? She had so many relatives she could spare a few to other families. She was wearing blue and green leggings and an oversized T-shirt of The Proclaimers knotted at the side, exposing a strip of stomach. Her hazel hair was tied in a high bun, accentuating her goddess-like face.

She glanced my way, probably having felt my stare. A constant stare, if it were up to me.

And just like that, I melted.

I know, it’s pathetic.

I sighed, long and deep, and kicked a pebble.

I didn’t know what to do. Should I ask her out? Where to? And to do what? Help me milk cows? Roll hay down hills? Chase sheep? Those were basically the local entertainment options, apart from pubs.

Was she a romantic type of girl? Did she expect flowers? Chocolate? That green liquid she loved? No, wait, that was only when she studied. What if she thought pubbing was a boring date idea?

I pinched the bridge of my nose. So difficult.

Maybe I should call her friend and gather information. Or should I just tell her that I already love her so much that the possibility of her leaving me paralyzes me more than the fright I gave that elk last month before I ate it? Technically, I already told Yvaine how I felt about her…over the phone, back when she thought I was Rudolph. What a mess.

When she laughed at something her uncle said, my attention snagged on her throat. That little neck… I narrowed my eyes on the spot, rubbing my tongue over my front canines. My mark would fit perfectly there, along with my matching necklace.

The thought alone had me itching to cross the yard.

I cracked my neck, the pop loud.

“Anyone that wants to play, step forward! Everyone else can go enjoy the cider. Today, it’s on me!” Alpha Ian’s voice thundered across the field.

I grinned. For being related to Comet, he was a fantastic grandfather and Alpha. He had arranged this whole thing to celebrate his grandchildren being home and for Yvaine finding her mate—me.

I was about to step forward when, to my surprise, my mate did too. Along with a handful of uncles, cousins, and, naturally, the damned twin.

My grin faded. There were many unmated males. Unmated, unrelated males. Worse, she was going to distract me the entire time.

What if someone hurts her accidentally and I kill them afterward? Maybe…not so accidentally?

“Who wants to be captain?” Uncle Angus (or Knox) shouted. The captains would make the teams for the match.

“Yvaine and Pamela!” Luna Riona announced. She stepped aside with her not-yet husband, claiming they were too experienced to play with us youngsters. Wereball used to be a real sport, she had informed me. Apparently, in the old days, instead of a ball, the captains used the severed head of the largest prey they had hunted.

Pamela was one of Yvaine’s countless cousins. Tall, red-haired, blue-eyed, freckled, and pale; she had enough Scottishness to blind you with it. Her attitude reminded me of my sister, Trix.