Page 46 of Taken By The Wolves
But now I know.
Now I’ve held the evidence in my arms: a baby girl who shifted forms as naturally as a sigh, and did it in the safetyof my hands, as if trusting me with her truth before I even knew how to hold it.
They’ve been carrying this alone.
The weight of their own inheritance.
And it hits me sharply that everything I’ve felt —the pull between us, the connection that defied logic —might not be some random twist of chemistry. The bond between us is stronger than it should be after so little time, and the desire I have for them is instinctual.
They’re not just men. They’re wolves.
And they’ve been letting me come close without knowing if I would run screaming the second I glimpsed what lay beneath their skin.
God. The strength that must be taken.
It makes me ache, not with fear but with fury. That the world has told them they must hide. That being this powerful, this magical, this other, is something they should apologize for.
But they don’t need to hide from me.
Not anymore.
I might not have known this truth when I first arrived in this town, but I know it now, and it doesn’t scare me. What terrifies me is how much I already care. How much I want to protect the miracle child sleeping in my arms. I want to fight for these men, not because they need saving, but because they deserve to be seen.
Wholly.
Truthfully.
Unconditionally.
Even the wild parts.
Especially the wild parts. Even if only by me.
When Reed shifts back, it’s quick, accompanied by arustle and gust of air, and one form merges into another. There’s no spilled blood, no cracking of bones. An arched back, a gasp, and he’s standing there again, naked but unashamed, his chest rising and falling with effort.
I can’t take my eyes off him. The stunning carved lines of the firm muscle that shifts beneath his human skin, the huge black tribal tattoo over one pec and shoulder, and the wolf’s head inked on his arm. A slight sheen of sweat has formed across his chest, and when my eyes drift lower, I stare at the dark curls around his impressive cock and the scar that mars his thick thigh.
I cradle the baby tighter, stunned. “I believe you,” I whisper.
Nixon steps closer, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder as Reed dresses. His touch is warm and grounding. “I know this is a lot to take in,” he says. “We wanted to tell you, but we didn’t want to frighten you away.”
“Why would you tell me? Why would you want to trust me with this?”
Nixon’s jaw tics, and he doesn’t reply.
I could have left, and I would have been none the wiser. Their secret would have been safe. Immersed in my ordinary life, I never would have learned about the hidden world that exists behind the curtain of normality. I could have spent the rest of my life believing that fairy tales were merely far-fetched stories concocted by the minds of darkly creative imaginations.
Instead, I’m here, with my eyes open to the wonders of the world, with a sweet girl in my arms, an impossibility made flesh, and three men around me who’ve treated me like a princess they snatched away from imminent danger.
I’m living my own fairy story.
I glance up at Nixon, at Finn, and at Reed.
“I’m not leaving,” I say. “Not while she needs me.”
Not while my heart is swelling with feelings I’m not ready to voice.
Nixon lets out a long sigh that sounds like relief.
