Page 52 of Betrayed Bullied Mate

“What about it?”

“Would you get a cat?”

“I… Love, I don’t care what pet you choose.”

“A lizard?”

“Sure.”

“A… Pig?”

“Do you want a pig?”

“Not really, but I want to see if you’ll tell me no.”

“I will not, Linnea. But—I don’t particularly want a pig as a pet. I’m afraid our kids will grow attached and keep me from eating bacon.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh, rolling over in his arms so I can face him. “You’d go along with getting a pig?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t like it.”

“We don’t have to get a pig,” I say. “But I would like to get our kids their first pet as a Christmas gift. I picture them opening the box on Christmas morning, a little kitten or puppy tumbling out.”

“That sounds fine.”

“I think we should travel with them, too,” I say, rubbing my nose against his. “So they feel comfortable leaving Rosecreek but know they can always come back to us.”

“It’s a good plan.”

“Aris?”

“Yes, Love?”

“Are you tired?”

“Just a bit,” he laughs.

“Okay,” I say, giving him a chaste kiss. “But when you wake up, I want to finish this conversation.”

“I’ll talk to you about our future until we’ve gone and lived it,” he murmurs, pulling me in closer, and I realize that in a span of a week, I’ve gone from planning to forfeit my right to a pack, to becoming the luna for mine. I feel more comfortable and safe than I have in a long time, and I fall asleep with my cheek on Aris’s chest.

Epilogue - Aris

The sound of Linnea’s screams rings out through the house, and I turn on my heel again, pacing back the way I came.

“It sounds bad,” I say, and Bigby looks up from his knitting to meet my eyes. When Linnea grew tired of the sound of him constantly sharpening his knives, she found him a different way to occupy his hands. Right now, he’s knitting a tiny pink sweater.

“This is normal,” Bigby says, giving me an exasperated look. “You know that.”

“I know,” I say, gritting my teeth. “But I just can’t shake the feeling that I need to go in there and make sure she’s okay.”

“Last time, you almost fainted. That’s why she told you to stay out here.”

“I know, Man,” I say, sighing and rubbing my hands over my face. “I just—”

I’m cut off by a squeal of delight and look up to see Araya—named after Linnea’s grandmother, running down the hallway toward me. She’s wearing a pink princess dress, and her matching plastic heels are clapping against the hardwood. Linnea has to hide the shoes before we go out for the day so Araya doesn’t try to wear them to the store or park, but they’re free game at home.

I crouch down and open my arms for her, and she leaps up, her mess of curls flopping around her shoulders. I’ve always given her the option of jumping into my arms ever since she was old enough to toddle around on her two chubby little legs. As I hoist her up, I think about the vision Linnea had the other day—Araya shifting for the first time around fourteen.

---