Leo
Damned annoying observant brothers and their even more annoying tendency to blurt things out.
Sure, there weren’t usually secrets in a wolf pack, but in this case, telling Altair about the bite in a public place was damned inconvenient.
There had been a reason Mama took me off into the woods on a walk to discuss it.
Because it was fucking private, and it should have been my choice when to disclose it, and who to tell.
Would they all know eventually? Sure. But this was my life, not theirs. They didn’t all have a right to it.
He was looking at me like a wounded animal, like he wasn’t sure whether I was going to bolt, or whether he should. Worse, there was something deeper in his eyes. Shame.
And that simply couldn’t be allowed to stand.
So I glared at Viktor, ready to dig in my heels. “And what does that have to do with Altair?”
Viktor’s scoff could have been heard from space, and he mirrored my stance, standing across from me, arms crossed and anger twisting his features. “You’re suggesting he wasn’t the one to bite you? The vampire you’ve been feeding? The canines on that bite are too pronounced for a wolf.”
“First of all, who bites me and who I bite are none of your damn business. My bedroom is none of anyone’s business.
But you know as well as anyone in this pack how this works.
” I said it as though I had also known before that morning, how mating bites worked.
It wasn’t that it was scarce or privileged information, it was just .
. . I hadn’t known many mated couples. It was kind of a huge commitment.
More than human marriage, a mating bite meant forever.
Mama didn’t have one, because as she’d explained, she had never truly, completely given herself over to Reeve.
It was understandable, since he’d been a complete dick. Marriage or not, “mating” or not, a permanent bite was something else. It was, well . . . permanent.
On the other hand, I had to think Mama had once had feelings for Reeve.
It was strange to think of Aleks coming from a marriage that had never been loving, since Aleks himself was one of the most loving people I’d ever known.
So how had she known even then, in the throes of an early relationship, that she would never love him entirely?
Maybe Mama was just more cautious than I was.
Clearly, though, I had Viktor at a disadvantage, because he looked slightly less certain. Not less angry, but his brow was furrowed in confusion as well as anger now.
“That’s very impressive,” Prudence said from the porch.
I hadn’t spoken to her other than a short introduction, and frankly, she terrified me. The local witches had never been quite so intimidating, even Ermengarde with her icy demeanor.
No, Prudence was something else. She’d grown up with power and money, and instead of it making her think she was better than everyone around her, she was quiet and observant and . . . apparently impressed? With . . . my bite mark?
Viktor and I both looked up at her, and frankly, it was probably as close as we’d looked to the twins we were in years. Same stance, same expression, same confusion.
She smiled like we were charming, which no one had done to Viktor since he’d returned. To her, he was just another member of the Wildwood pack. She didn’t remember the silent ghost of a man who’d returned home with us after his years of government captivity.
“I imagine it would be difficult, losing any part of your brother to love, but I understand sometimes it happens that way. You werewolves are passionate creatures, and my readings on vampires say they tend to be so as well. It’s not too shocking a bond could form that quickly.”
Viktor mouthed the word “bond,” but continued staring at her.
I decided to ignore my smarting pride and hope that the truth wouldn’t send Altair running into the woods never to be seen again.
Ow. A sharp pain lanced through my . . .
through the scar. Like it was a real and current injury, and not a fully healed mating mark.
I put my hand to it, and turned to look at Altair, who was—well, he’d gotten off the ground and was looking at Prudence as though she’d said something unexpected and wonderful.
“Passionate?” he asked, his voice small and hopeful. “Ivan”—he glanced back at my brother, nervous, but then steadied himself and turned to Prudence—“Ivan said vampires don’t have emotions. Not . . . not real emotions.”
Prudence gave a short, sharp bark of laughter.
“Did he? He sounds like a prince of a fellow. But no, nothing I’ve ever read indicates that.
My research says that vampires are exactly what they were as humans, just .
. . more so. If they were happy as a human, then as a vampire, they’re exuberant.
If they were angry as a human . . . well. ”
Understanding lit Altair’s eyes, and he rocked back on his heels. Then he frowned and turned to look at me. “But I still hurt you. I—” He reached out toward my neck, as though to touch the scar, but stopped when Viktor gave a growl.
I glared at my brother and stepped into Altair’s space, taking his hand and putting it on my neck.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I confessed, voice quiet, pitched for just the two of us.
Sure, the rest of the listening pack could hear it, but it wasn’t for them.
It was for us. “It’s not an injury. It’s .
. . it’s a mating mark. It’s not there because of anything you did.
It’s there because of how I feel. About you. ”