Page 36 of Her Second-Hand Mate

As soon as we sat down, a cloud of lavender floated into his office together with its owner, who apparently just waltzed into her boss’ office whenever she liked.

“Are you ready for lunch, Dom?” she chirped before she froze. “Luna, hello. I’m sorry for interrupting.”

I opened my mouth but then closed it just as quickly. My wolf was insulted by her casual nickname for our mate. But she could sense how weak Heather’s wolf was, and as Luna, she’d never harm her without good reason.

“Give us a minute, Heather,” Dominic said and she nodded before turning on her heel and leaving. “We have some spreadsheets to go through and very little time, so it was going to be a working lunch at the pack cafeteria.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it,” I said as I got up.

“You don’t have to leave. I can reschedule.”

Ah. An enthusiastic invitation if there ever was one. The only thing that would have made it worse would have been tacking on an “if you want” at the end.

I gave him a forced smile while I tightened my mental coat around me.

“I have to see Dr. Jackson anyway. Enjoy your lunch.”

He lifted his arm as if he was going to grab me but then just let it drop.

“See you at home.”

I knocked on Dr. Vera’s door and she happily let me in.

“I wasn’t expecting you today, Luna,” she said as she motioned for me to sit.

“How would one know if their mate was cheating on them?” I asked her without preamble. She stilled, her hand that had been reaching for the carafe of water suddenly suspended in the air above the table between us.

“A wolf whose mate is cheating on them experiences such intense physical pain that they usually pass out. There is no confusing it with anything else, and the wolf always knows,” she said, examining my face with concern in her eyes.

Something crossed my mind then, a memory.

“When I was a young pup, around seven years old, my aunt came to stay with us, my mother’s sister. Mother was already pregnant with Evie then, and I remember my aunt and my Father arguing about how the visit was stressful for Mother,” I looked up to see Vera’s mind working as she carefully listened to my story.

“See, my aunt was sick. She’d have these seizures. We’d all be eating dinner together in peace, and she’d start writhing in pain and screaming before eventually passing out. It happened almost daily.”

Neither of us said anything for a while.

“What happened to her?” Vera finally asked.

“She went home with her mate. I don’t think she wanted to. He was all bruised when he came to pick her up. At the time, I assumed she was crying so hard because she was sad to leave her sister. But now I realize that my father probably forced her mate to come get her. Maybe my mother also pressured her to reconcile with him.”

“And no one ever told you what was happening?”

“I guess they thought I was too young for that kind of information. And then later that year my mother died, so -” I shrugged helplessly, my shoulders swallowing my neck.

“I am livid on behalf of your poor aunt. And they did you a great disservice, Penelope, by keeping the truth from you.”

I shook my head to dispel the memory.

Do you know who I was thinking about the other day? Aunt Maureen! I was talking to someone about extended family members, and I realized that I had no contact with anyone on Mother’s side. It’s quite sad that it happened like that. I know they’re all in different packs, but it would have been nice to have more family after she passed. I’d like to contact some of them, so please send me any info and addresses you may have.

???

I was sad to read in your letter that Ms. Thompson actually got fired from our school. I always assumed she found her mate and left or something. I was just talking about her theother day when we had our sleepover. Margaret had brought new column questions for us to read and answer together (keep your eyes peeled; there will be some juicy drama in next month’sLipstick&Claw!), and the topic of doing bad things when we were pups came up.

I cannot betray the females’ confidence by telling you the naughty things they did (someone you’d never suspect actually cheated on a test in school!) but I can tell you mine – after Ms. Thompson left, I missed her a lot, so I went into her classroom and it was all just as she left it. So I stole the book she used for class, the one with pictures of all the paintings in it. It was one of my most prized possessions as I grew up. I kept it under my bed and looked at it every night before going to sleep.

I showed it to the females that night. They had never seen the Ciottolo di Tolentino – and you probably haven’t either, come to think of it. It means “Pebble of Tolentino,” and it is a stone with a prehistoric carving of a woman with the head of a wolf.

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