Page 55 of Wedding for My Werewolf

“I believe you meant well,” she said softly, smoothing her hands over her jeans. “It’s just… hard to trust.”

“I understand, but you can trust me. I’m on your side. Always. I won’t walk away.”

“I believe you.” She crossed the remaining distance between them. “Should we kiss and make up?”

Her shy smile sent his pulse racing.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, and he pulled her against him, the feel of her soft body filling his wolf with contentment.

“Then let me show you just how sorry I am.”

He scooped her up, loving the way her arms wrapped around his neck, and carried her to the bedroom.

The next morninghe walked her to work as usual, his senses alert for any sign of danger. The morning air carried the usual mix of scents—fresh bread from the bakery, wood smoke from chimneys, the crisp bite of mountain snow—but he searched for anything out of place. His wolf prowled beneath his skin, equally vigilant.

Her shoulder brushed against his arm as they walked, and the casual contact grounded him, even as his protective instincts had him scanning every shadow and alleyway they passed. He didn’t really expect any more trouble from Thatcher, but something was still nagging at him.

As they approached Garrick’s mansion, his steps slowed. The thought of leaving her, even in his friend’s capable protection, made his wolf restless. The gargoyle stood in the doorway, his stone-like features impassive as ever.

“She’ll be safe here, Eric,” Garrick said quietly, reading his hesitation. “No one gets past me uninvited.”

He nodded, knowing Garrick’s reputation for protecting what was his.

“I’ll be back to walk you home later.”

She nodded and his wolf settled slightly at her acceptance of his protection, at the way she didn’t question or push back against his need to keep her safe.

After the doors closed behind her, he hesitated, then made his way to Callan’s workshop. The small building sat at the edge of town, smoke curling from its chimney. His wolf bristled at seeking help from the Alpha, but protecting Robin mattered more than his pride.

The workshop door creaked as he entered, the scent of wood shavings and metal thick in the air. Callan stood at his workbench. The Alpha looked up when he entered, his expression unreadable.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly.

Callan put down his tools and crossed his arms, waiting. The silence stretched between them, heavy with the history between them.

“The bounty hunter who was after my mate—I’m concerned he won’t be the only one.” He managed to keep his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. “Others may come looking for her.”

Callan’s neutral expression didn’t waver, but he caught the slight shift in his scent—concern, perhaps? The Alpha remained silent, letting him continue.

“I can protect her from one hunter. But if more show up…” His claws popped out. The thought of Robin being hunted made his wolf snarl. “I need to know if the Pack will stand with us.”

The stern line of Callan’s mouth softened. “The Pack protects its own.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the simple declaration. His wolf, which had been bristling for a fight, settled.

“You’ve always fought against tradition,” Callan said, leaning back against his workbench. “But being part of the Pack isn’t about following rules blindly. It’s about having people at your back when you need them.”

He winced. He’d spent so long pushing against Pack bonds, that he’d forgotten they could be connections as well as chains.

“I wasn’t sure at first—I thought you were playing games—but now I know that Robin is truly your mate and that makes her Pack. We’ll keep watch. If anyone comes looking for her, they’ll find more than they bargained for.”

A knot loosened in his chest—one he hadn’t even realized was there. Despite years of maintaining his independence, of keeping the Pack at arm’s length, their support settled something deep inside him.

“Thank you,” he managed, the words rough but sincere.

He was about to leave when the Alpha shook his head, his lips quirking.

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