LISA
I spend the entire walk to the hospital trying to convince myself this isn’t insane. But really, what’s one more wild decision in my life right now? I’ve already been kidnapped by vampires, developed magical powers (okay—not really, I can just use magical items), and fallen in love with a werewolf. Choosing to solidify a fated mate bond is practically mundane at this point, right?
But it still feels crazy.
This must be the wedding jitter cold feet I’ve heard about.
Huh. Weddings. Maybe this is why it feels so unreal. No white dress, no big ceremony, no family...
Mom and Dad would want to be here for this.
No. I told myself a long time ago I wouldn’t think of them. Every time I do...
Ugh. No. Don’t do it.
Before you ask; yeah, I’d call their phone numbers... but I don’t know them. Hello, speed dial, you awful and convenient crutch.
Okay. No more thinking about Mom or Dad or weddings. Nope. Game face on, Lisa Randall. You’re about to propose to a werewolf.
I pause outside his room, my fingertips resting against the door. My heart pounds in my ears. It’s not fear, exactly. Just the weight of what I’m about to offer. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖
My entire self. My absolute trust. My future.
When I push the door open, I expect to see Kellan asleep. Maybe sitting up, but probably asleep.
What I don’t expect is the absolute stone-cold expression on his face.
"Hey," I say, plastering on a smile. It quickly falters when he simply nods and turns to stare at a wall.
His body language screams tension—jaw tight, shoulders stiff, arms crossed.
I approach the bed cautiously, like I’m walking toward a bomb that might go off. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine." One word. Clipped. Distant.
Okay...
What the hell? I mentally scan through the last few hours, trying to figure out what I could’ve possibly done to piss him off in the short time I’ve been gone.
Can’t figure it out.
All I can think of is the sex, but I mean—I was perfectly content with going down on the guy. He’s the one who put his dick in. Therefore, the sex isn’t my fault. Right?
... or is it?
I try again. "You look like you’re doing better." He does, too. More color in his cheeks... I think. Hard to tell when he isn’t looking my way at all.
He grunts.
Okay, that’s it. I cross my arms over my chest. "Why are you mad at me?"
"I’m not mad." His voice is flat, completely devoid of emotion, which is how I know he’s absolutely lying. My bullshit-o-meter’s in the red.
"Liar."
That, at least, gets a reaction. His eyes snap to mine, flashing silver for a brief second before returning to their normal gray. He sits up straighter, and I can almost feel his wolf simmering beneath his skin.
"You want to know what’s wrong?" he finally asks.
"No, I’d rather play twenty questions while the world burns down around us." I roll my eyes. "Yes, I want to know what’s wrong."
He takes a deep breath. "You showered."
I wait for more, but apparently that’s it. His entire reason for the ice-cold treatment.
"...yes?" I tilt my head in confusion.
"I told you I wanted them to smell me on you."
My mouth falls open as understanding dawns. This isn’t about me sneaking off when he was sleeping or us going too far with sex while he’s recovering. It’s all wolf bullshit. His scent on me. Which I washed off. Because I was dirty.
Sex, if you didn’t know, is dirty. Filthy. Total mess. Showers are practically mandatory.
"I can’t just go around smelling like your," I drop my voice to a scandalized hiss, "semen, Kellan."
"That’s normal for us, Lisa." He says this with complete seriousness, like I’m the weird one for not wanting to parade around a supernatural compound with eau de wolf sex clinging to my skin.

I roll my eyes and move to sit on the edge of his bed, careful not to bump his injured side. "What, you want me to bottle it? Market it as Eau de Kellan?" I even sound out his name like the French might say it.
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