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“Your style is more…” I pause. “Unique.”

Silas furrows his brows, while Marcellus grins. “White one,” he says. “Lori looks like the type of girl who doesn’t like show-offs. Keep the blue one for an actual date.”

“Wait… what?” Silas asks, as I feel my cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

Marcellus beams. “I knew it! Your lack of a reaction tells me what I need to know. See? I told you!”

“Told him what?” Silas pushes.

“She is his mate,” he says.

Silas blinks before he smiles warmly at me. “Is that so?”

“I can’t believe you already busted me,” I grumble.

“That’s beautiful news,” Silas says. “Dolores deserves a good mate, and I know you will be exactly that.”

“Only if she wants me,” I say anxiously.

“I think she is probably just scared that you will take advantage of her and then reject her,” Marcellus says. “Don’t overthink it too much. Just be yourself and be patient. She is probably longing for a mate, just like you are.”

I take a deep breath. “The white one, huh?”

“Yep, good luck,” Marcellus says with an encouraging smile.

Before I head to Lori’s cottage, I visit the pack kitchen and buy a bottle of freshly pressed juice and some fruit to take with me. Sheila is so sweet as usual and gives me two pieces of the chocolate cake she just made without asking any questions. Putting everything into a basket, I finally decide it’s time to meet my mate.

The closer I get, the more the anxiety wins over me. Isla rejected me after a day, not immediately. She had time to think it through and decided I was not worth it. What if Lori will think the same? She has so much more to offer, and unlike me, she is a true victim.

When I arrive, Lori is sitting outside at the huge, wooden table in her small garden and has some sheets of paper spread out in front of her.

“Hello,” I say, not able to hide the twinge of nervousness.

Lori looks up, gazing at me first before looking at the basket in my hands. She looks anxious, too. “You came.”

“Of course I did,” I say, taking a deep breath and deciding not to give her the chance to send me away. “What are you doing?”

“Making drafts,” she explains. “I measured everything, and now I am contemplating how much material I’ll need.”

“I am not good at that stuff,” I admit. “But I would love to learn if you’d explain it to me.”

She smiles at me, her eyes suddenly glinting with passion as she starts to describe her plans to me, and what the numbers she wrote mean. She also tells me how much material she might need. “Of course, that’s for the future,” she says.

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t have the funds,” she admits.

“But I have them,” I beam. “Finally, I can put my late father’s dirty money to good use!”

“Benji, I can’t accept that offer,” she says quietly.

“Of course you can,” I say, suddenly feeling pumped. “I inherited quite some money from my father. He was a true psycho, and I didn’t touch the money up to now. But I would love to invest in this project, and in whatever else you come up with for the pack.”

“An investment?” she asks.

“Of course, I’m investing in your skills,” I say. “We’ll start with your cottage.”

“I could look at the other important pack buildings,” she muses. “The nursery, the pack house…”