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“You have a deep connection with Tabian. It’s what makes our wolves want to be around you two.” Lyric shrugged. “I thought Tabian would’ve told you.”
“Told me that we have some bond? I like him. I really like him.” She thought about it. “I mean, I really, really, really like him. I’m human though.”
Nory shook her head. “Yeah, that does not keep their wolves from choosing.”
“Their wolf chooses. You mean chooses a girlfriend?”
“A mate,” Lyric and Delta said in unison.
“A mate,” Destiny repeated firmly, but softly.
In the river, Tabian and the guys had apparently decided to drag their floaties across the water toward Bridger and the others.
“I had a werewolf call me his mate before,” she uttered low.
“Bayen’s dad?” Destiny guessed.
Tru nodded.
“And did it feel like this?” Lyric asked.
And she thought about it. She had to reach in her memories to recall the time with Zane. Tabian had a way of erasing the bad stuff and making it harder to reach.
“I remember it felt chaotic and I never really knew what was happening.”
“And how does it feel with Tabian?” Nory asked.
“Steady. Safe. Exciting. Like the future could be good, not damaging.” She lowered her voice and admitted, “Being a mate to Tabian feels right.”
The girls all wore matching smiles. “Yeaaah, she’s one of us,” Lyric said, digging into a purple cooler beside her. She tossed Tru a canned margarita.
“Lyric, it’s eleven in the morning,” Delta chastised her.
“So?” Lyric asked.
“So, hand me a mango one,” Delta said. “I need fruit in my breakfast diet.”
Tru giggled and opened her drink, and before she could take a sip, Nory, mate of the Alpha, put her can up in the air and said, “To adding two more to this crazy batch of psychos.”
Two—Tru and Bay.
She was not going to cry, she was not going to cry.
“Are you tearing up?” Delta asked from across the fire.
“It’s probably just the smoke in my eyes.”
Nory stood and pulled her against her hip, hugging her tightly. “We’re happy Tabian tricked you into liking him.”
Tru laughed thickly. “He didn’t have to trick me. He’s my favorite.”
Nory hugged her to her sided even tighter and lifted her can again. “To favorites.”
They all extended their canned margaritas toward each other, and murmured, “To favorites.”
But these women didn’t understand. How could they? They didn’t know her life yet, or what she’d been through. But here, with the echo of laughter from Tabian and Bayen, and a big old Pack of rowdy werewolves, with kindred spirits who were being so understanding, and a peace within her soul that Tabian had conjured…
The Rogue Pack was giving her a favorite moment.
