Page 34 of Tamed Wolf

And now as we drive her back to the shelter she insists she wants to sleep at, I can see her pinky linked with Brooks’ in the back seat over the bottom of Rowan’s car seat. That’s kind of huge, right?

It’s been a while since we were this excited about somebody, and the thing is, it transcends rationality. Wolves are very instinctual beings, and when we know, we fuckingknow.

I haven’t really heard about too many people having more than one fated mate, and maybe it’s not hitting us quite as hard as it did with our ex when we met her, but there’s something between us we need to keep pursuing.

“You hungry? Lunch was a long time ago, we could stop and grab something before we take you home, if you want.”

She looks over at Rowan, who’s been so good all day. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to go sit in a restaurant and be expected to behave. I can grab something in the kitchen when I get there.”

I look into the mirror briefly and meet Brooks’ eyes, and he shakes his head saying that’s not happening.

Brooks has always been the sweetest, cuddliest of us all, and he’s probably working very hard to restrain himself because I’m pretty damned sure he just wants to suffocate her right about now. Age gap or not, she’s someone that we feel needs our protection and that’s driving our instincts hard.

I exit and head towards one of our favorite places nearby, a little compound with an array of food trucks, somewhere chill where a baby that may get fussy won’t bother anyone.

The gravel hits the tires as we park and she just rolls her eyes at the blatant over handedness as I open her door for her, helping her down so I can walk in with my claim on her.

Brooks grabs Rowan and Blake is walking behind us all, always looking out for anyone that we might need to be careful of.

“Oh my gods. This is…why does every single menu look so good?”

She stands in the middle of the compound, just looking around. Garlic, bread, meat, all sorts of scents are floating in the air as different people eat at the picnic tables strewn about, and music is pumped through big speakers at each corner.

“So, what you’re saying is we need to get one of everything? Done.”

I start walking off, aiming to do just that, but she grabs my arm, stopping me. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to…I can pay you back. I just have to get my wallet from the guys.”

“Wait,” Blake says, perking up. “Please tell me you have access to the money they force you to make for them.”

“Can we not do this here? I told you taking me out was a bad idea.”

“No, that’s not what happened. Taking you nearly anywhere is a great idea if we get to go, too. And we’re not asking you to pay us back, because we took you here. I will buy one of everything if you don’t tell me what you want though. We’re far from being rich, but we do alright and we’re pretty comfortable. We can afford to feed you, we promise.”

“I know what you need, come here,” Brooks says as he grabs her hand and passes Rowan off to me.

I watch them go to a truck tucked in the corner, shaking my head. If she can’t pick, then I guess a massive supply of nachos should hit the spot.

Blake and I snag a table while we wait, trying to keep Rowan entertained with a baby food pouch. When we hear her laugh, Blake and I both instantly snap our heads to the sound, because it’s so fucking beautiful.

She’s got tears streaming down her face as she tries to balance a big armful of drinks and napkins, while Brooks balances two trays, both with massive piles of food on them. One chip-based nacho fully loaded down, the other with fries absolutely drowning in gravy, meat and cheese.

She’s laughing though because while he walks, Brooks is singing some ridiculous song he seems to be making up on the spot about how pretty Lark is and comparing her to all sorts of cheesy things, doing anything he can to take her mind off of us doing stuff for her, I think.

“No one was going to mention how embarrassing he is when you let me wander off with him?” she asks as she drops everything off on the table.

“Me?I’mthe embarrassing one? I’m sorry, did you or did you not tell the guy at the first stall that tried to take our order that you were dying for a taste of his big, juicy meat?”

She giggles again and covers up her reddening face, and I’m just stuck watching her interact with my brother, because this is so different than what we’re used to feeling.

“Not everyone has a gutter mind,” she says somewhat quietly as she reaches for her soda.

“Pretty hard not to take anything dirty when it’s coming out of lips like yours,” he says easily as he reaches for a fry.

She frowns, looking down at herself, wearing borrowed clothes, hair simply down and unstyled. “I’m not wearing any makeup or anything, and I’m completely shapeless in these clothes.”

“It’s not the clothes or the makeup that make you beautiful,” I reassure her. I keep watching her out of the side of my eye as we all start reaching for food, and I think she’s recalculating things inside her head.

When we’re about halfway through our meal, she stops eating and reaches for a napkin, cleaning off her fingers and bridging them above the table before clearing her throat slightly. “When they first made me start dancing for them, I had to go through makeup classes and sit still for over an hour each shift while someone did my makeup for me. They’re…really good at gaslighting me into thinking everything they were making me do was to improve me. They were always so much nicer to me when I had a full, perfectly applied face of makeup on with the lashes and the contouring and the…drama. I guess they trained me to do it all the time, until I became uncomfortable without it. I don’t even remember the last time I went into public without a basic makeup look on.”

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