Page 41 of Lone Wolf
He kissed me and the world stopped again, just for that moment in time. “You sure you aren’t regretting this?”
“Not at all,” I told him and let him smell the truth in my scent. “I think, maybe, this was meant to be?”
He snorted and pulled me closer. “I don’t know if I believe in any of that stuff.”
“That’s okay,” I said, and yawned. “I can believe for both of us.”
Our talk drifted into silence, though I could tell he was still awake. His heart beat steadily under my ear, so strong and determined. I ran my hand over my belly and whispered to the pup, “You picked a good sire, you, even if your timing is shit.”
He snorted and I felt him press his cheek to the top of my head. “Go to sleep. I know you’re tired and I only have a day here before we head back out again.”
I raised my head in surprise. “You’re not staying?”
“I can’t.” He cupped the back of my neck and kissed me softly. “It’s not a job like any other one. And I gave my word.”
Right. I’d half forgotten that this was why we were in this mess in the first place. “Well, remind Oscar that he needs to bring you back in one piece or I’m going to stop being polite. And I want to see your wolf form before you go.” I put my head back down on his shoulder and closed my eyes firmly.
Damian made a little fizzing noise of laughter, but didn’t say anything. His arm tightened around me again briefly, then slowly loosened as he fell asleep.
And once I was sure he was asleep, I let myself relax into that restful dark as well, but my last thoughts as sleep finally took me wereWhat have I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The next day, Damian came back from another trip to the store with a fat book for me and a stack of paper. “GED,” he said. “Like a human’s high school diploma.” He set them in front of me on the kitchen table, where I’d been sorting out all my belongings and trying to figure out where to put them.
I stared at it, then back up at him. “Uh, I have my high school diploma.”
He kissed my cheek and went to the cupboard for a mug. “Not puppy classes and home economics. Real high school courses.”
Oh, Montana Border, you did not just call me stupid, did you?“No, I mean English and Math and Accounting and two courses in Economics and a couple of history courses. And those boring science courses they made me take.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared in satisfaction at his flabbergasted face. “Yeah, we waste resources educating our omegas. You guys must have been a lot richer than us if you could afford to keep part of your population artificially stupid.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, took one look at my face, then shut it again.
Good alpha. Smart alpha.
Although, if he’d lived in Nevada Ashes, he’d have known that, while high school was open to all of us, only maybe half of the omegas actually bothered to finish it. You didn’t need calculus to keep house and have babies. And I wasn’t that kind of omega.
On second thought, maybe I should tell him that. But once we’ve gotten used to each other.
He turned back to the stove and filled the kettle, flipping the switch to heat the water. “If you already have your high school diploma, then that will speed things up,” he said, just a little too casually.
“Speed what things up?” I asked. He flinched—my voice hadn’t been at all casual.
“Most human families, both parents work,” he said apologetically. “I make enough that you don’t have to, but I thought you’d probably want to eventually. I didn’t want there to be anything stopping you when you made up your mind. And you’re kind of stuck in here until…” He nodded at the baby, currently trying to punch his or her way out through my side. “If anyone sees you like that, they’ll know what you are.”
Now,thatI understood. “I’m fine here.”
“There’s only so much television you can watch.” He’d given me a quick lesson on working the big television in the living room before he’d left this morning to pick up a few more things I wanted for food and supplies. I’d happily killed about fifteen minutes flipping through channels before the urge to make this place my home had hit. He was probably right about the novelty wearing off quickly—I was used to having a job.
“So what do we do now?” I asked and walked over to get my own mug down. The pup stretched hard, almost painful, and I grimaced and put a hand to my side.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his words edged with sudden panic.
“Puppy’s stretching,” I soothed and put his palm over the place that our little brat had picked to attack. “See?”
His smile grew and, while I knew it was probably just the omega bond at work, I let his happiness build mine as well.
“We’ll have to think about what to do when your time comes.”
