Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
VICTORIA
Iwoke slowly, aware of warmth before anything else. A solid weight beneath my cheek. The steady rhythm of a heartbeat, deep and even.
My brain tried to catch up with my body.
The last thing I remembered was going to bed while Feral sat in the sitting room reading. I’d assumed he’d intended to stay there until I was asleep. Or he’d disappear again or remain in the chair for the night.
He’d said we’d share a bed, but maybe he’d only meant the suite.
He must’ve joined me in the bed sometime during the night.
His arm rested around my waist, and I was draped across his chest like an affectionate house cat. The domestic intimacy of our positions made me want to dismiss this as accidental proximity in a shared sleeping space.
Except his hand had curved around my hip at some point, and my fingers had splayed across his naked chest.
His thighs appeared to be naked as well. His sides. His…
He had an erection and it was prodding my thigh.
My brain stuttered, attempting to find a clinical way to rationalize this. It was an involuntary physiological response. Morning biology. Alpha male hormonal patterns. Completely impersonal and not related to my presence at all.
My face heated anyway.
I went absolutely still, mentally calculating the least disruptive extraction method. If I moved slowly, shifting my weight gradually, I could probably—
The wolf sleeps like a mountain, vast and wide, while she lies draped across his naked side, Acorn said.
I shot a furious glare toward the headboard where my squirrel companion sat grooming his tail with too much satisfaction for this hour of the morning.
He leaped off the bed and scampered into the sitting room.
Traitor.
I attempted to slide away without disturbing Feral, lifting my head carefully and beginning to ease my leg from where it had somehow ended up tangled with his.
His hand tightened on my hip. “Going somewhere, wife?”
I froze.
His voice came out rough with sleep, but the thread of amusement underneath made my belly jump around.
Looking up, I found him watching me, his pale blue eyes fully alert. His mouth curved into a smirk.
He’d been awake.
Possibly the entire time.
I scrambled backward off the bed with absolutely zero dignity, nearly falling off the edge before catching myself. My nightgown had twisted around my legs, and I yanked it straight while trying to gather the scattered remains of my composure.
He didn’t move to cover himself. Didn’t apologize or look even remotely embarrassed. Just placed his hands underneath his head, linking his fingers, and watched me with an insufferably calm expression.
I pointed at the very obvious bulge under the covers.
“That,” I said, “needs to be addressed.”
His eyebrow rose. “Does it?”
“Yes. This is a strategic arrangement. We agreed to clear boundaries.”
“We agreed to share a bed.” His smile widened a fraction. “Our agreement didn’t specify what condition I’d be in when I woke up.”
“That’s—” I searched for the right word. “Semantics.”
“It’s biology.”
My face was absolutely on fire now, heat sliding down my neck.
He sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist, and tilted his head in a way that was pure predator. “You’re welcome to solve the problem yourself if it bothers you that much.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “I will do no such thing.”
“Such a shame.” He stretched, all casual strength and deliberate provocation. “Guess I’ll have to take care of it myself.”
“You—” I sputtered. “That’s inappropriate.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Because you’re sitting there like it’s perfectly normal to stiffen in that way in the morning.”
“It is perfectly normal.” His voice dropped lower, warm with suggestion. “Especially when I wake up with a beautiful woman draped all over me.”
My brain short-circuited somewhere around “beautiful woman.”
He bares his teeth but not in threat, Acorn said from the sitting room. I think the wolf enjoys your fret.
I turned on my heel and stalked toward the bathing chamber with as much dignity as I could manage, which was considerable.
Right up until my foot caught on the fur rug and I tripped, nearly sprawling across the floor.
I caught myself on the doorframe, didn’t look back, and slammed the door behind me.
His low chuckle followed.
After filling the tub, I climbed in and let the hot water work some of the tension from my body.
The bathing chamber was one of the few truly private spaces in the suite, carved into the living wood with the same careful attention as the rest of the tree.
Spelled heating kept the water at a perfect temperature, and someone had left a bar of floral soap on the edge of the tub that smelled like home.
I closed my eyes and allowed myself one moment of complete honesty.
Feral was a problem.
Not the shifting sickness, though that remained concerning. Not the political alliance or the pack dynamics or any of the logical, manageable challenges I’d prepared myself to handle.
Him.
The teasing. The way his arm had felt around me while we slept. The fact that he’d called me beautiful with that rough edge to his voice that made my chest pull tight.
I’d curled into him at some point during the night. That much was clear. But had he been asleep when I did it or had he let me?
The question sat in my mind, revealing possibilities I had no business considering.
I shoved it away and focused on washing, on the practical steps of preparing for the day. Research. Investigation. I wanted to visit the northern creek tributary and see if I could discover if environmental factors might be causing the shifting sickness.
My plan was manageable. It made sense. I could handle mystery illnesses and contaminated water sources. What I couldn’t handle was my husband’s morning erection and the way he’d looked at me when he called me wife.
I dried off and dressed in a practical blue gown with enough pockets for sample vials and my notebook. Not my laboratory clothes, but nicer. The kind of thing that said I was taking this seriously. Not that I was trying to look nice for anyone in particular.
Acorn sat on the edge of the tub, grooming his face with both paws. He looked pleased with himself.
“What did you do?” I asked.
He chirped in an innocent way that set my nerves on edge.
I narrowed my eyes at him, then noticed the breakfast roll tucked beside his foot on the tile, stolen from whatever delivery I hadn’t heard arrive.
“You’re impossible.”
A wolf who teases is a wolf who cares, he said, his tone smug. Though he’d sooner run than admit it, I’d dare… say.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He sat up straighter, his tail bristling. His whiskers twitched, and with a huff, he grabbed his stolen roll and leaped off the tub edge, bounding toward the door.
I followed him out into the sitting room but stopped.
Feral sat at the small dining table near the window, already dressed in a simple tunic and pants that did nothing to disguise his muscular frame. Two plates waited on the table, steam rising from whatever the kitchens had sent up.
He hadn’t started eating.
He’d waited for me.
I noticed the two cups next. Tea? The delicate floral scent drifted across the room.
My grandmother had sent a letter ahead of the wedding with my preferences. I hadn’t mentioned it. I’d assumed it would get filed away with all the other formal correspondence that came with a strategic alliance.
Apparently not.
I walked over to the table and sat down across from him.
Acorn immediately launched himself onto the table to attack the breakfast spread. He bypassed the fruit and pastries, heading straight for the platter of sliced meat that Feral had claimed as his own.
Feral’s eyes tracked the squirrel’s movement, his expression darkening. A growl rumbled through his chest.
Acorn ignored him and stuffed a piece of meat into his mouth, his cheeks bulging.
“Acorn,” I said.
He grabbed another piece.
Feral’s hand moved fast, catching the squirrel by his tail just as he reached for the jam.
They stared at each other.
The great wolf hoards his kill, guards it close with ancient skill, Acorn said in my mind. But bread and jam are squirrel domain, stolen goods are not our shame.
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. “He says that while hoarding food may be wolf nature, stealing it is squirrel nature. He considers it a fair trade.”
Feral’s mouth twitched. “Tell him if he steals from my plate again, I’ll hang him from the window by his tail.”
“He heard you.”
Acorn chattered a statement that definitely didn’t need translating and scampered to my side of the table, claiming a piece of bread before flinging himself off and soaring over to the back of the sofa. He landed and started eating.
Feral picked up his fork, spearing a piece of meat with more force than was necessary.
I sipped my tea. Perfect temperature. The right blend.
He’d noticed.
The realization sat warm in my belly, right next to all the other observations I was trying very hard not to catalog.
“Sleep well?” he asked, his tone casual.
I met his gaze over the rim of my cup. “Fine, thank you.”
His smile returned, slow and dangerous. “You seemed comfortable enough this morning.”
My ears went hot. “I was asleep.”
“You were draped across me like a blanket.”
“Involuntary positioning during sleep. It happens.”
“Does it?” He leaned back in his chair, studying me. “And here I thought you might actually like sleeping next to your husband.”
“You’re reading far too much into unconscious physical proximity.”
“Am I?”
I set down my cup. “I want to discuss the northern creek tributary.”
His expression shifted, his amusement fading to something more guarded. “No.”
“I haven’t even asked anything about it yet.”
“You’re going to ask to go there. The answer is no.”
I reached for the jam, spreading it across my bread. “I need to investigate the contamination source. Multiple affected pack members reported hunting or visiting that area before symptoms appeared. It’s the logical starting point.”
“I have meetings this morning. Border patrols to coordinate. Three separate disputes that need mediation before they turn into major challenges.” He counted them off on his fingers. “I don’t have time to escort you into the forest.”
“Then I’ll go by myself.”
“Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous.”
I cocked my eyebrows. “For a witch who can do this?” I pointed a finger at the cold fireplace and with a quick spell, set the dry wood aflame.
“Cute trick, but the answer is still no.”
“You don’t have any say in what I do.”
“You think not, wife?”
“Stop calling me that,” I snapped.
“You’re my wife. It’s natural to call you that.”
“Fine, then I’ll ask Kirk to take me.”
His face went ruddy. “You absolutely will not.”
“He seems like a nice shifter. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help me.”
His growl rang out. “You will not traipse off into the woods with another male.”
“Now you’re going all alpha on me.”
“I am the pack alpha!”
“I didn’t ask you to escort me. All I need is a guide who knows the territory. Kirk will do.” I took a bite of bread, chewed, and swallowed. “If you’re too busy managing pack politics while your people lose their ability to shift, that’s certainly your choice.”
His eyes narrowed.
I waited for the explosion I knew was coming. Why was I enjoying our verbal sparring so much?
But the contamination was spreading. Every day we delayed was another day someone else could lose their ability to shift. He knew that as well as I did. Better, probably, since he carried the weight of every affected pack member.
He could refuse. It was well within his authority. But I sensed he wouldn’t. Not if I framed it correctly.
“I don’t need you to hold my hand,” I said, keeping my voice level.
“I need someone who knows which tributaries connect to the main creek, what game trails cross through the area, and whether there are any abandoned dens or territorial markers that might indicate magical interference. Someone familiar with the land.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “You’re manipulating me.”
“I’m presenting logical arguments.”
“You’re challenging me to prove I care more about pride than pack safety.”
“Is it working?”
His jaw clenched. Then he shoved back from the table and grabbed his coat from the chair.
Trying not to smile, I stood, brushing crumbs from my skirt. Acorn leaped, flying to the table, where he grabbed two pieces of meat and stuffed them in his cheeks before hopping onto my shoulder. His tail curled around my neck for balance.
Feral looked from the squirrel to me. “Does he always steal food he can’t possibly eat in one sitting?”
“He’s optimistic about his storage capacity.”
A smile crossed his face, gone almost before I registered it.
He held the door open, and I walked through.
The three of us descended the spiral staircase together, Acorn humming on my shoulder.