Total pages in book: 182
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Tanix gestured at Nova.
“Cheese, bread, nibbles, on it.” She took off out the door.
“No, really—”
“No, really.” Tanix arched an eyebrow. “It’s good. Let’s get to reading. Do you have time?”
I glanced at the books on the table. I had plenty to get me started for tomorrow morning, and it had been a long day. I could really use some wind-down time. Besides, people actually wanted to hang out with me when they didn’t have to? That was a treat in and of itself.
“Of course. I’m . . .” I pointed toward the bedroom. “You guys all know I draw, right? It’s not a secret?”
“We’re not supposed to mention it or speak about it in any way, lest you think we invaded your privacy,” Dante said, grunting as he sank into the couch. “But we do know, yes.”
“Way to call out the beta, dick.” Sixten punched him in the arm.
“She’s not stupid, vadge,” Dante replied.
“Okay, well . . . While you read, do you mind if I try to paint? I’ve never had paints and it’ll probably be a mess, but I thought I might give it a go.”
“All the gold you made for Granny and you never had paints,” Dante murmured, shaking his head as he spread open the book.
Sixten rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. Yes, paint, absolutely. Can I try, too, if you don’t mind? I suck at it, but it’s fun.”
“Need help?” Tanix paused in the process of sitting.
“I got it.” Sixten waved him away.
“You should take Liron’s class,” she told me as we entered the bedroom. “Oh shit, good thing Tanix didn’t come back here. The beta would lose his shit if that male entered your bedroom.”
I led her through to the art area.
“Oh wow, look at this.” She nodded as she looked around. “The beta did all this?”
“Yeah,” I said sheepishly, gathering the supplies. “He was nervous to tell me about it, as though I wouldn’t like it.”
“That wolf is thoughtful as shit,” she said under her breath.
Butterflies once again fluttered through my belly. My face heated and I shrugged, all warm and tingly inside. “It’s probably just the true mate bond,” I said to deflect.
“No, girl. No.” She shook her head adamantly. “The true mate bond would usually have him moving you into his room and trying to keep you there to best protect you. The true mate bond should have him claiming you the second he had access and killing anyone who looked at you. I’ve seen lesser wolves, male and female, lose their minds with just a claiming. This?” She gestured around, not just at the art, but the room as a whole. “Allowing you your freedom speaks of the control that he’s known for. The art, though? The kitchen? That speaks to the man. You wouldn’t know because you haven’t been around any decent shifters, but trust me, this?” Now she gestured specifically at the art space. “This is courting-type stuff. Milk this shit. Milk it for all it is worth, girl. You’ve clearly got your own control. Use it.”
I was reflective as we moved the supplies into the front room, setting up to paint as I mulled over what she’d said. No one had explained the difference between the bond and the man. Or even how extreme the bond made some people, and how much Weston wasn’t acting on that primal pull. He was holding back, actually, giving me space. Giving me the freedom I’d requested. The freedom to make up my mind. His actions weren’t because of the bond—they were despite it.
My belly fluttered, the warmth and affection that had been growing for him since the start of our journey infused within me. He might’ve noticed the things I liked because of his job and the bond, but he’d gone out of his way to use that knowledge to make a home for me here. He’d held back with me earlier this morning, controlled himself when I hadn’t even known up from down . . .
My lack of knowledge about the bond had made it seem limiting, burdensome. My heart continued to soar as I felt those shackles loosen, cut free. I felt lighter. Released, almost.
A timer dinged, snapping me out of my reverie just as Sixten let Nova back in the room. I stopped to check on the food. The beef was steaming away and the vegetables were ready to go in. Nova had come back with a huge assortment of cheeses and assorted nibbles, including bland chicken wings, little pieces of pork on too-soft bread, and some sort of tomato-cheese thing with the wrong seasonings.
I didn’t mention any of my criticisms, of course. Getting used to someone else’s cooking was going to be an adjustment. Figuring how to get food I could cook myself from the kitchens was moved to the top of my to-do list.