Mark walks down the hall with a heavy heart, his hands sunk deep in his pockets, a scowl across his lips. God, he just…can’t seem to do anything right, can he?He regrets it, of course. Immediately he regretted it, treating Rafe’s news so lightly, laughing about it, not paying attention enough to re
Mark cries out, just slightly, as his wolf howls and scratches and begs him to go forward, to grab the door, to push it open, to find her, to grab her into his arms –Mate mate mate mate mate – he snarls again and again, over and over in Mark’s mind.And Mark groans, because he knows – he knows his
A grumbling, groaning little half-sigh breaks from Daphne’s lips as she stirs from her sleep. Because no, she does…not want to be awake right now.Please, she begs her wolf, who is shaking out her fur, turning towards the door with interest. You’re imagining it – you always are. It’s not real – he’s
But eventually her tears subside, just a little. And she quiets and stills. And raises her head to look into his face.His heart breaks to see the very real sadness there, and he lifts a hand, brushing at the tears on her cheek with his thumb, his eyes taking in the rough redness around her eyes, an
“Daphne, I am not asking you to be my mistress!” Jesse bites out, his teeth clenching.“Did you come here with romantic intent?” she asks, prim and formal. “Desiring to continue, in some way, our relationship?”“Yes,” he says, working hard to reel his temper back in, ashamed at himself for losing it
And as he knew she would, Daphne tilts her head back and laughs – long and peeling. He smiles a little, watching her, relishing that. Daphne – she’s not easily offended, and she has enough self-confidence not to let herself be hurt by such a deeply untrue judgment.“Oh, god,” Daphne says, still laug
I wake up to the feeling of Jackson’s broad hand stroking over my hair and I squeak, petulant, turning my face so that my other cheek is pressed to his chest. Then I nuzzle close, my eyes pressed determinedly shut, refusing to wake up.“Ariel, it’s nearly noon,” Jackson murmurs, laughing a little.“
“Yes!” mom says, happily walking over to him and holding out the tray. Jackson lifts off the lid and groans when he sees the stacks of pancakes and eggs and sausage and bacon.“You’re my favorite, Ella,” Jackson murmurs, eagerly taking the tray and sitting down on the bed, settling it onto his lap a