Chapter 13
SOPHIE
Sophie woke with a huge smile on her face and the languid satisfaction of a night well spent.
A plethora of orgasms would do that to a woman.
Stretching her hands over her head, she took stock.
A tad sore, though that was no surprise, considering last night’s marathon with Torin.
That man had a lot more stamina than she expected, and he took her challenge to ‘do better’ to heart.
He deserved a gold star for his efforts.
I’ll have to see if I can find any so I can give him one, she thought with a snicker.
But he wasn’t in bed next to her when she woke, and the sheets were cool to the touch, which meant he’d left some time ago.
The Wolfcraig Highland Games were today and, according to Bryn, nearly every pack in Scotland was represented.
So, he was probably out in the west meadow being all growly and alpha-y, bossing people around.
She rolled out of bed, skin prickling in the cool air.
She tracked down her clothes, quickly pulling them on.
Now what she needed was to find her way back to the blue room where her luggage was, because she refused to spend the day holed up here dressed in nothing but her PJs, at least not alone.
If Torin were here, it would be a different story.
She yanked open the heavy forest green curtains.
Sunlight streamed in through a pair of narrow windows, the wavy panes casting rainbows on a Turkish rug covering the stone floor.
Undoing the latch, she swung the window open.
The low drone of bagpipes in the distance filled the air.
She leaned out, trying to get a look. If she squinted just right, she could see the tents and people milling around the meadow.
A thrill of excitement zinged through her.
Now that she and Torin were together — at least she assumed they were ‘together’, considering the events of last night and the fact that he claimed her as his mate — did that mean she could attend the games without him biting her head off?
Did their matehood mean anything if he hadn’t told anyone else yet?
Did he even want others to know about his human mate?
She bristled at the idea that he might prefer to keep her tucked away like a dirty little secret. Surely he wouldn’t. Especially not after his heartfelt declarations last night.
But if he did, she’d make him regret it before she left.
Before she got herself all worked up, there was a knock on the door, and Bryn stuck her head inside. Her nose wrinkled. “I’d ask if you had a good night but honestly, I don’t want to know any more than I already do,” she said.
A flush stained Sophie’s cheeks. Damned shifters and their sensitive noses. “Well, um… we…,” she stammered, her face growing hotter.
She snickered. “Don’t worry about it. I’m old enough to know what happens between consenting adults.” She swung the door the rest of the way open and stepped into the room. “Besides, Dad told me you’re his mate.”
“Ah,” she said, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her. As embarrassing as it was that Bryn knew they’d had sex last night, a warm glow blossomed in her heart. Torin told his daughter about them. She licked her lips, her toes digging into the rug’s thick pile. “And? How do you feel about that?”
With a bright smile, Bryn bounced over to her and gave her a big hug. “I’m just happy Dad finally found someone to fuss over besides me.”
She returned the teenager’s hug with a laugh. “He does like to be in control, doesn’t he?”
“Total control freak,” she grumbled, releasing her to lean against the wall. “Though he’s not usually quite so high-strung. This time of year always makes him crazy.”
“So you thought it was the perfect time to go behind his back and rent out your great-grandmother’s cottage to a human?”
“Sounds bad when you say it like that,” Bryn said, smoothing a hand over her slicked-back hair, a slight frown playing on her glossy lips.
“It’s just that I wanted to go to a concert with my friends, but Mr. Control Freak is such a bloody miser with the purse strings.
Except now he knows about my plan, and he’s being stubborn about letting me go. ”
Sophie raised an eyebrow. Where was she going with this?
“Can you maybe work your mate magic and talk him around? I’ve been wanting to see this concert for a year.” She gave Sophie puppy-dog eyes and made a little whimpering sound.
Mate magic? Was that even a thing? She pursed her lips. “I may be willing to talk to your father if you’ll help me.”
Clasping her hands to her chest, Bryn bounced on her toes. “Really?”
“Really.” Oh, man. I hope I don’t regret this. “First, I need my luggage. Last I saw, my suitcases were in a pretty blue room, but I have no idea where that would be. And second, I want to go to the highland games.”
The west meadow was transformed into a riotous festival of colors, smells, and music. Munching on an order of fish and chips, the pair of them strolled past the judging tables where individual pipers and drummers competed, pausing to listen to several of the performers.
Sophie then dragged the teenager through the corridor of vendors hawking handmade crafts, kilts, and other items swathed in plaids, and silver jewelry etched with Celtic designs. She bought Nessie plushies for her friends’ kids and a wolf shifter dressed in dark green plaid for herself.
Bryn laughed. “Why do you need one of those when you have the real thing?”
“One, because it will annoy your father.” She made the small plushie dance to the music. “And two, because it’s cute and will look good on my dresser.”
She cocked her head. “Aren’t you a little old for stuffed animals?”
“Everyone needs some whimsy in their life,” she said. “Also, rude.”
“Sorry.” Bryn giggled. “Ooh, speaking of whimsy, let’s go find a sweetie before we track down Dad. I am seriously craving a deep-fried Mars bar.”
“Fine, though I think I’ll pass. That sounds like a heart attack waiting to happen.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” The teen grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the smell of oil and chocolate.
As they wove through the crowd, Sophie felt eyes following them, whispers trailing in their wake. “Feels like everyone’s staring at me,” she whispered as the teenager paid with her phone and collected her rather disgusting-looking treat.
“That’s because they are. You’re the Wolfcraig Alpha’s mate,” Bryn said, her mouth full of melted chocolate. She offered a bite, which she declined with a wrinkle of her nose.
Sophie blinked at the matter-of-fact statement. “Everybody knows?”
“No one gossips worse than shifters with a juicy bit of info.”
A familiar arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his chest. “Of course everyone knows, love,” Torin said. He dropped a kiss on her head. “You’re my mate. I wasn’t about to hide you away in a tower forever.”
Her lips quirked up, and she relaxed into his embrace. “No, though I am surprised you didn’t handcuff me to your bed before you left. For my protection, of course.”
“Ooh, kinky.” Bryn snickered.
“Hush, you. Eat your fried thingy,” Sophie said, turning to look at Torin. Her jaw dropped and her mouth dried out. “Holy shit,” she whispered.
He wore a kilt in a dark green plaid, a silver clan crest of a rampant snarling wolf pinned to the bottom left corner.
A black t-shirt stretched over his chest, hugging his arm muscles, and a sgian-dubh of deer antler was stuck in the knitted black hose tucked into dark hiking-style boots.
It wasn’t the traditional way to wear Scottish garb, but it suited him.
Her knees went weak, and she squeezed her thighs together.
To cover her practically melting into a puddle in the middle of the games, she waggled her wolf plushie at him. “Look, Torin,” she said, giving him a big grin. “It’s a little you!”
He growled and tried to snatch it out of her hands. He missed.