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Chapter Thirty-Nine: 'Wife'

The arms of the Alpha’s mother are warm and soft too—I don't think the latter is brag-able; she also smells like freshly baked bread for some reason.

"Hello, I'm sorry I couldn't see you sooner-"

"I know, I know, I gave birth to such a brat."

His mother devours my excuse, leaving me at a loss conversation-wise.

What...do I say next?

I know how to dominate a conversation, so...why don't I know what to say next?

"He is a brat, isn't he?"

My voice trembles. Mother would hate it if someone said that about me to her.

"Wait, no, I-"

I try to take back my words, but she laughs a hearty sound that again makes me feel out of my element.

"Oh, he was worse as a teenager, something about puberty just..."

She continues, but I cannot place her words.

She is shorter than me, a little plump but not like Martha and her apron is covered in red soil despite her bready scent.

Her hand on my waist feels warm and secure, like the blue of her eyes that promise comfort and support even though I am certain I
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