Shit.
Does Una need to eat?
It’s not dinner time yet, but she must’ve missed lunch with her little escapade into town.
She can miss a meal. It’s not gonna kill her.
But now my wolf’s grumbling about that, and truth be told, I’m uneasy about it, too.
Una needs to be fed. She’s sturdy, but how long would that padding last in a survival situation? Not even a couple weeks.
I don’t know why it’s of essential importance to my wolf and I that Una be able to live through a hard winter right now, in this very moment, but it’s at the top of my brain. She also needs to learn to fight. And how to shoot since fighting is probably hopeless with a wolf as small as hers. And a healer needs to see that leg. I can’t believe that’s as good as it can get.
Everything’s fucking rearranging itself in the natural order—with Una crowding out every other concern—and it’s disorienting as hell.
I think about the pack, twenty-four seven. The circuit. Which males need their asses kicked? Who’s ready to move up? I think about threats and security and the goddamn utility bill way more than I want to, that’s for sure.
And then there’s pack politics. What’s Moon Lake doing? How close to anarchy is the Last Pack today? When is Lochlan Byrne gonna make his move? Would it make life simpler in the long run to kick the shit out of Eamon and those other old timers who are filling his head with dreams of a position he cannot possibly take? How wrong is it to give an elder a beatdown if it keeps the peace?
Except for in the gym, that’s what goes through my head, an incessant whirl, mostly questions I can’t answer and shit I don’t know.
Not now. That’s background noise. Una is the center.
Her wonky shuffle. Her swinging braid. Her downcast brown eyes.
She slows as she climbs the path to her cabin. Why did I never consider that I put the female with the bad leg halfway up the steepest hill in camp?
She won’t accept help. I go to grab her elbow, but she tucks it to her side.
And how did I ever think she was plain? Her face is calm, like the surface of the quarry lake on a windless day, but it speaks volumes. And it’s beautiful. Her lips have the sweetest divot at the top, her nose tilts just at the end, giving her a snooty air that’s cute as hell. And she has honest eyes.
Everyone in the world wants something from me. Approval. Status. Protection.
And they’re trying to hide shit, too. Failings. Weakness. Ambition.
Not Una Hayes. She would like me to fuck myself, and she makes no effort to conceal the fact. It’d be adorable if I knew without a doubt that this shit ends with us mated like Fate intended.
I need to put babies in that curved belly.
I need her to smile at me.
I need not to have fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened in my life before it even happened.
I had accepted that I would always be alone. But acceptance is a stage of grief, isn’t it? It’s not joy. It’s not right. A part of me knew this was out here, waiting. That’s why I never got too close to another female.
Every moment with Una, my end of the bond thickens and surges. It was a shadow, a cloud floating across the sun, but now it’s a living thing, strong, seeking.
How did I not recognize it?
Thankfully, my brain gives it a rest when we get to Una’s place. As soon as she mounts the stairs, the door flies open, and Mari’s curly mop boings out. Annie and Kennedy crowd behind her. Their eyes pop simultaneously when they catch sight of me.
“Oh, shit,” Kennedy whispers. They shuffle backwards, necks bent. The stench of fear reaches me at the same time Una’s back straightens.
“They had nothing to do with it,” she says to me over her shoulder.
“Don’t lie to me, mate.” I walk her through the doorway, the others backing up, clustered tight together, guilt written all over their faces.
Do they think I’d hurt them? They’re females. Everything I’ve ever done is to keep them safe.
But as soon as she crosses the threshold, Una scurries away, putting space between us. Every foot of distance raises my hackles higher, but I let her go to her friends. I want to grab her, yank her back to my side, but following my gut has not been standing me in good stead these days.
The females’ arms reach for her and pull her close as they shuffle and fuss until they surround her. They’re protecting her from me. They’re terrified, especially Annie, but all of their wolves are close to the surface, rumbling a warning.
My wolf is smart enough not to take it as a challenge. He stays silent. The last thing I need is him ripping out a snarl that makes three lone females piss themselves in their own living room.