Chapter 13 #2
Her saucy wink at me did nothing to calm my nerves. Fallon was fearless. The concentration on her face, fearsome. How could I bring up that she might turn the Followers into soup? I wouldn’t take this away from her. I had to trust her.
The thin bond tugged at my heart as my mate collected her magic. Not in the chaotic yank she sometimes tried, in an effort to check off as many things as possible all at once, but in a controlled stream, with intention.
Steady. I encouraged her.
“They all look so good.” I heard the strain of a lie in her voice. “Did you make these?”
Fallon shuffled the cookies around as if it was of the utmost importance that she found the biggest one. Her hands brushed every part of the inside of the basket. Pulling a chonker out of the bottom, she bit into it.
“I did,” the monk said, ungluing her eyes from me.
“MMMM, yummy. Thanks!”
“You’re welcome,” the female said in a flat voice.
I wanted them gone now and Fallon safe. I gestured to the woods behind them. “Well, thanks for stopping by. These strapping young wolves are going to escort you back to the border. For your protection, of course.” I could threaten right back, even in my most friendly voice.
“Of course,” Percy said. They turned and made their way back into the forest with their wolven guard.
Ned stamped his feet, whining. He wagged as he paced behind them, snuffling for the cookies we rejected.
“Ned! Maybe don't follow the scary monk guys.” I snapped my fingers. He eventually turned back, betrayal clear on his face.
Fallon stood rigid until they left. She spat the cookie into her palm.
“That was disgusting. What did she use? Pig lard? Smell this.” She held out her hand.
I reared back, laughing at her. “I’m proud of you for staying calm, but that’s gross, Honey.”
“Wait, no. Not that.” She tossed the mess of cookie on the ground and shoved her other hand in my face. I caught her wrist, pushing it down.
“I said I was proud of you.”
“Yes, thanks, Dec. But I did it. Take my hand.”
“Is that one gross too?” I laughed as she twisted the one without cookie bits closer and I batted her away.
“Can you smell this?”
I smirked. “Your cookie fingers?”
“Shut up.” But she snickered. My Honey actually giggled. It was like the chime of Old Magic in the middle of a still wood. My whole being expanded.
“Oh, the bacon grease you somehow have all over your hand?” I tussled with her a bit more, grabbing her clean palm to lick at it while I wrapped an arm around her.
“Can you follow it?”
I scoffed. “Ned could follow it, Fallon.”
“Are you sure?” She smothered her hand over my nose and giggled again.
This was turning into the best day. My jealous mate played with me of her own volition. I had to tell her we were mates. Surely, she felt it now. Not just the bond between us, but the love that came with it. It would all work out if we did this together. Right?
“I infused the cookies with it so someone can follow them back to their monk lair. And look, no one turned into soup! If those weirdos have Brad, they can’t be up to anything good. Turning them into consommé on purpose might be fun.”
Briggs and the rest of the pack chattered excitedly, arguing who would tail them. Who would report back.
Marcus, the head wolf on patrol, snapped, “I’ve got this.”
His series of accompanying barks had Fallon backing up into me. My fists clenched. They were scaring her and I didn't appreciate it. But I couldn’t get in the middle and then have to explain what I was doing there.
Briggs bit back, “Ask Declan.”
Marcus’ arms crossed over his broad chest. He was easily twice my size. “Declan doesn’t even know the routes anymore. He left and maybe he should have stayed gone.”
“You’re complaining about having your magic back, Marcus? Or you’re sad all your power can do is spook forest animals?”
“That seems handy if you want lunch,” I offered and Briggs glared at me.
My quip only brought on another cacophony of opinions. They sniped at each other, barely letting me get a word in edge-wise.
“You’ve always wanted my position, she-wolf,” Marcus shouted, and then the claws came out. I stepped Honey out of the way. She actually helped in this situation when my pack reduced themselves to squabbling.
Briggs lunged for the male wolf. The pack was naturally unruly when their instincts pushed them - forever primed for a hunt, a fight, or a game. We worked together when it was for the good of the pack, but it came with big personalities and a lot of debate.
I didn’t like yelling, or leaving black eyes in my wake. We had been through enough of that with my father.
Separating Briggs and Marcus with my hands seemed like a bad idea. I gathered the Old Magic instead and cleared my throat. The sound reverberated through the glade and everyone went silent, the weight of my intent settling on them.
“We’ll make it a game. Split into two teams and the winning team gets a Locot cake,” I said.
Easy. Equitable. No need for claws. My sister and Marcus nodded.
“I’m the second team’s leader,” Briggs shouted.
Marcus was stuck with his mouth open, a long set of scratches down his neck.
“Fine. We’ll race you,” he said to Briggs.
A terrible howl filled the air as wolves kicked up rocks and snow in their efforts.
I sagged in relief. I didn’t know if my suggestions would land.
My father would have let them fight it out until blood hit the forest floor.
I was just grateful to be heading home. One peek at Honey told me she wouldn’t ask me why they listened to me.
“What’s a Locot cake?” Fallon said as I took her hand.
“That would be trying to describe what a Goddess tastes like.”
I noted the set of her shoulders and the slow blinks. My mate was tired. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“Let’s head home.”
She fidgeted. “The berries! Will your mother be disappointed if I don’t try?”
“We can go tomorrow. They will still be here. She would say the same,” I said.
“At least let me set up a loaf for the morning.”
She must have been spent if she complied.
Doubt pressed on me as I raced home with her on my back.
I did not act as a good mate today. I let her come in contact with danger.
She had been out in the cold too long. She trembled in my fur and I still didn’t know what was wrong.
I wanted her to let me in. Trust me. Which was completely hypocritical, when I still didn’t trust her with my truth.
It just wouldn’t work. Even if I convinced Honey to be my mate, would I convince her to deal with all this?
The pack was always at our door. My siblings were always in the middle of things.
Too loud, too much. Something was always going wrong when Honey needed rest and peace to help whatever was happening to her.
We dealt with the crisis, for now, but the reality of the next one pressed on me.
Maybe if I gave her enough orgasms, Honey would give me a chance to explain this mess to her.
I already knew she would be mad about this secret but the longer it went on, the less capable I felt of explaining it.
I liked my fur where it was. Because if there was one thing I knew about Fallon, it was that she knew how to use a skinning knife.