Page 43 of A Wolf in the Garden

“Thanks. Thank you for keeping up with everything while I was gone.”

“It’s fine — that’s my job, after all.”

“You’re not going to ask where I was?” I don’t know why I say this; I’m practically asking for trouble. Maybe it’s because Lacey’s still not here yet, I haven’t seen Cam for a few days, and there’s a part of me that wants to declare to every person that I see that I got the girl of my dreams.

“Oh, I figured it was something to do with the pretty garden designer you hired last week, since her car has been parked at your house for the last two days, and I literally just saw you two smooching up against said vehicle when I went for a walk on my morning tea break earlier — you know if the public takes the path that goes up over the southern ridge, they can see directly down to your house, right? Maybe we need to block it off with a gate? So yeah, I figured I’d just pretend that I don’t know what’s going on. I mean, it’s none of my business.”

I rub my forehead, shaking my head. “I didn’t notice you up there.”

“Yeah, well, you seemed pretty preoccupied. I would say that maybe HR wouldn’t approve of this conversation or the fact that you’re engaging in relations with a contractor, but I am HR, so,” she shrugs, flashing me a dimpled grin, her cheeks flushed pink in her pale face. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

I settle down at my desk. “I appreciate that.”

She nods, busying herself with work. “I’ve booked in the building contractors to start next week, by the way. We were able to snag the better company in the end, the one with the large crew that could help do the gardens as well as having a few master builders for the renovations.”

“That’s great. I thought they weren’t available?” Finding labourers on such short notice has been one of our biggest issues, particularly because we aren’t on the mainland; even with bonus pay incentives and an agreement to foot the bill for Sunday to Thursday accommodation on the island for the workers, we’ve found that a lot of builders are booked up for months in advance.

“They weren’t, and then they turned up onsite for their next job, and the group that hired them took issue withwhatthey were. Suddenly the work wasn’t needed.” Her tone is unimpressed, angry, and I feel my own mood shifting along with it.

“They’re non-humans?”

“Yeah.”

“And someone dared to discriminate against them that blatantly?”

“Someone with very deep pockets, apparently. This is what I’ve been told by Kaito and he didn’t sound happy about it.”

“And Kaito is…?”

“He’s the dragon shifter that owns the business — he’ll be onsite; he’s a builder by trade. His employees are a mix of different species. Only two humans, out of twelve total.”

“Is he going to try and recoup costs? He would still have wages to pay this week.”

“I didn’t ask. He’s… to the point, but I know everyone who has used him has raved about the work, so I feel confident in booking it in.”

I wave away any doubts she might have about hiring them; on paper the building firm looked great, and Cassidy and I were confident in our decision to put them first on our list. What bothers me is that humans are still out there turning people away simply for being non-human. It doesn’t help any of us if humans can get away with such blatant discrimination in these transitional years.

“Have you booked their accommodation yet?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about today. Kaito has indicated that he’s interested in moving here, so he’s looking to negotiate with you regarding a deal to cover part of his rent while the work is undertaken. For the rest, I’ve made tentative bookings for eight weeks, not including the Christmas break period. For the first two weeks I’ve had to find a bit of a mishmash of accommodation options because there’s quite a few places booked out, the same in January, and you’re going to be paying some ridiculous prices for all of this, but you’ve said money’s no object so…”

“It’s fine.” The accommodation costs are a drop in the bucket compared to my personal wealth. It’s bad business sense, but this is a personal project for me, small-scale compared to the huge commercial properties where most of my fortune is invested, and the sooner the vineyard feels likemine, the better. I’m not doing any of this for the money — at least not in the short-term. I’m doing this because working outdoors on the vines, overseeing grape harvests, and creating great wines is what I truly enjoy. I know how lucky I am that I have the means to finance the lifestyle I want without any fear of ever failing.

I look out the window, staring at the ocean framed by fields of vines, all lush and green with spring growth. When I was considering buying this property, one of the photos I’d been sent had shown this view. I’d stared at it for hours, trying to imagine living here, questioning whether I really had the courage to move halfway across the world after being away for so long, especially knowing that my new, small pack would have to move along with me. Ellie was the decisive factor; I didn’t know anything more than that she still lived in New Zealand, her social media profiles all private and not giving anything else away, but I’d stared at the picture of this view and imagined her here beside me, and as crazy as it sounds something about it had feltright.

“I’ve sent you an email with it all.”

Cassidy’s voice makes me turn away from the window with the heavy sigh, the notification of her email already floating on my screen.

“I just found it.” I skim over her summary and approve the accommodation bookings, then move onto the next email, and the next; time dragging despite it being only a half-day of work, my mind completely preoccupied with thoughts of Ellie. The photos on my camera roll are the biggest fucking temptation, my phone burning a hole in my pocket, and it takes all my self-control not to take a late lunch break, go home, and masturbate like a horny teenager.

I know what the problem is.Claim her, my wolves urge, and they mean more than knotting her, more than spilling into her at every opportunity.Mate, they growl, the same thing they’ve been telling me since I was twenty-one, when I was too naïve to realise what they were really saying.

Bite her. Bind her.

She’s not a wolf, and the choice needs to be hers. It’s far too soon to ask her to consider something so life-altering. A mating bite like that is permanent, broken only in death — there’s no divorce, no backing out, and the scar is displayed on your skin forever. The moon is only a few days away, and the pull of it amplifies the urge, making my teeth and balls ache with the thought of it.

Not this month.It’s too soon, I won’t do it.

---