Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“What are these games? Why do you have to go?”
Brick grows even more stiff. “They are mating games. A chance for single wolves to show off their prowess and catch the scents of available she-wolves.”
My stomach draws up so tight, I feel like puking. “Mating games?”
“I’m obviously not going for that purpose.”
“For what purpose are you going?” I blink hard to keep back the angry tears.
“To show my pack their leader is still strong and capable. That I’m not moon mad.”
“By entering these games?”
He nods.
My voice gets deathly quiet. “As a single wolf or as a mated wolf?”
His silence is the worst possible answer. “I will never look at or touch another female, Madi. You are my mate. But everything is breaking and blowing up right now, and I’m not sure my leadership could withstand revealing I’ve mated a human just yet.”
Betrayal rips through me. Shreds my insides with a million tiny forks.
But I refuse to listen to my emotions. Logic is my only friend here. I do actually believe Brick when he says he won’t look at or touch another female, and if I take away the searing pain of inadequacy and rejection, there’s a problem at the heart of this that needs to be solved.
“When are you leaving?” I’m proud of how even I keep my voice.
“Now.”
I nod jerkily. “Go then.”
Brick reaches for me, but I pull away. “I love you, Madi.”
I blink hard. “Go.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Send the jet for your family or Aubrey–whoever you like–but don’t leave the island. I need to know you’re safe while I’m gone.”
I walk away without answering. If I spoke now, it wouldn’t be well-thought out. My emotions would be leading. I don’t have the spaciousness to unpack my own insecurities about this relationship.
I need to dig into this pack leadership situation and get all the facts. Arrange and rearrange them in my mind until they make sense, and I find a solution.
It’s either that… or walk away.
Permanently.
Chapter Seven
Aster
I never like being near Catherine Adalwulf. I mean, I don’t dislike her, but the female she-wolf is soaked in pain. Being in the same room with her physically hurts me.
Now, as she enters Oma’s room to pay her respects, there’s something chaotic about her energy. If I had to express it as an image, it would be like trapped butterflies scrambling to get out. Beating themselves against a glass cage.
Now that I see it, I realize she’s always had those trapped butterflies in there, but before they were barely alive. Hardly moving. Drugged.
I squint my eyes, trying to see beyond the veil. I must learn to interpret these sensations. I won’t have Oma to guide me much longer. She’s nearing her last breath. I saw that in a dream last night. She’ll be dead before month’s end.
Catherine comes in and sits beside Oma, picking up her gnarled hand.
Oma can’t speak anymore. She hasn’t spoken out loud for three days. She only speaks into my head now.
“She says, You served your pack,” I interpret.
A wave of Catherine’s pain rolls over me, nearly making me pass out. This time I sense bitterness with it. I realize that, too, has always been in the mix, but the older she-wolf kept it hidden before. Tamped down with the butterflies. She kept herself half-dead just to exist with us.
This realization startles me.
Catherine drops the Seeress’ hand and stands, looking down at her with an undisguised contempt. “I hate you for what you did to me. I don’t forgive you. I never will.” No one has ever spoken to the Seeress this way. She is never paid anything but the utmost honor and respect.
It shocks me to hear the hatred in Catherine’s voice, but even more, it shocks me to realize what I failed to see until now. Tears fall freely from my eyes, but I’m not sure who they belong to–Oma or Catherine. Or perhaps they’re mine.
Because it’s the first time it has occurred to me that a female in this pack–other than the seeress–can and should have a will of her own.
Catherine’s story was fed to me in a way that celebrated her sacrifice. Her role for the good of the pack. But now I suddenly understand her deep, deep pain. It’s a wonder she’s even alive with that much pain.
Time suspends for a moment. The air shimmers and hums with potential energy. I don’t know what it’s for–whether Oma is cursing Catherine, or Catherine has cursed Oma, or it’s just the pulse of life hanging by a thread.
But it seems Catherine’s will triumphs. The butterflies I saw trapped inside her suddenly break free, exploding from her center like a glitter bomb, showering me with thwarted lifeforce that makes me shiver and shake. And then I understand the image. It matches that same spark of hope I felt about Oma’s impending death. It’s the sensation of a tamped down spirit coming to life.