Page 5 of Chaos At Second Sight

“Anyway, he cried, then hugged me for forty-two minutes. My Callum is emotional, but it’s okay.” She shrugged. “Then we had the issue of me being a virgin.”

“How come he was upset about that? You both waited for each other.”

“His irrationality confused me too. He was sad that I had waited for coitus without even knowing I was waiting for him.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That my devotion to him has nothing to do with whether I have a mucosal tissue over my vaginal opening.”

“So, you were a virgin…or are you still?”

“Past tense.” Her cheeks turned pink.

I grinned. “How was it?”

“I’ve had a total of forty-eight orgasms since we mated.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“He’s had twenty-four, but he insists mine are more important.” She nodded solemnly. “I come first. Pun intended.”

That made me laugh.

The days in the Highlands were good.

The nights? Not so much.

I was taking pills to knock myself out—sleep deprivation being one of the lesser-known side effects of being apart from your fated mate.

A rustle sounded to my left.

My head whipped around just as a furry, dark shape burst from the bushes.

“Dinori!”

Saurus, Volf, Malxom, and Brun also barreled forward.

I sat cross-legged on the grass. Experience had taught me standing only encouraged more of their messy mischief. The wolves tumbled over me, demanding scratches, rubs, and attention. I obeyed with a grin.

One hand found a gray muzzle, the other disappearing into short, maroon fur. They were real wolves, not werewolves, born and raised in the Scottish wilderness. Some called them pets, but that never felt right. Pets didn’t vanish for months, even years, then return with a scarred paw and a missing ear, thinner than before. These wolves stayed because they chose to. They knew they’d always find food, shelter, and me chasing them around with tick medication.

We MacKenzies had a theory: The stronger the pack, the more wild wolves were drawn to it.

I flicked my gaze from the rippling loch to the rising sun. The hum of insects quieted. The jackdaw’s buzzing faded.

I heard it before I smelled it.

A strangled growl rolled from beyond the trapped islet.

I watched the forest. But apparently, the forest was watching me back, too.

A crooked figure, at least seven feet tall, detached itself from the pines. It was a beast that resembled a wolf but stood like a person on its hind legs. Long, midnight-black fur draped most of its body, with only its barrel-like chest and visible eight-pack covered in a shorter, gray-tinged pelt.

Wait.

It has abs?

A long tail with the thickest fur, as if the beast had stolen it from a warhorse and claimed it for its own, lashed behind, scattering the midges and rustling the grass in its wake.