Page 14 of Wolf’s Fated Bride

“Not at all,” I say. “I was about to take a bath in this nice cold weather.”

She stops before entering the tower and looks up, but her gaze fails to reach my eyes before it lands on my crotch. Or, more accurately, my morning wood. My jeans are wet, and I have a knot. It takes a few seconds before she can look away.

Her gaze travels upward, and the urge to flex overcomes my reason. Luckily, my muscles flex subtly, so it doesn’t look like I’m showing off the way a peacock might to attract a possible mate.

Runa sets the basket on the steps. “Get your wolf ass downstairs and open the door. I didn’t come here to ogle you.”

Nothing humbles a wolf faster than an unimpressed female. “Say it nicely.”

She tilts her head to the side like an adorable pup trying to understand what I said. “I did.”

Her companions snicker.

Obviously, the little wolf’s cuteness means she gets away with everything. Not to mention, she’s the youngest of the three siblings and probably a stranger to discipline.

On my way down, I grab a black T-shirt and tug it on as I descend the steps. “Morning,” I greet my pack mates as they’re climbing the steps. When I pass the kitchen, I glance over, looking for Peter, but he’s not in there. Usually, he makes breakfast.

Is Blade up yet? I open the door.

Runa stomps her feet on the mat before entering.

“Good morning,” she says as she picks up the big basket she was carrying. I offer to help, but she shakes her head. “Get out of the way.”

Fine. I step aside.

She walks into the kitchen, followed by the pair of females. One continues up the stairs, the other, a redheaded wolf not a day past eighteen, drops a bundle of wood near the fireplace.

I join her. She stares at the fire, scratching her head. “There’s no wood in there, but the fire burns.”

Oh, that’s right. They’re used to fire burning wood. “The wood is not necessary.”

She looks over at me, eyes wide and inquisitive. Wolves are curious creatures, and since the wars isolated this pack, their young wolves never had an opportunity to interact with ours. Or to understand the way I manage fire. I continue, “Elemental fire energy recycles itself. It’s independent of the wood. It needs nothing to burn.”

She frowns. “But Sören only controls the water that’s already available in our seas or rivers.”

“That’s by choice.”

“Is he bothering you?” Runa hollers from the kitchen.

I roll my eyes, and the young wolf giggles.

“Excuse me,” I say, then make my way to the kitchen, where Runa is arranging eggs from the basket onto the counter. Once that’s done, she puts the basket away and then washes her hands. She seems to be preparing to cook breakfast. I lean against the doorjamb.

“Peter, my Regulator, usually makes breakfast for us,” I say.

Runa removes her coat and tosses it to me. “Hang it by the door, would you?”

Fine. I walk over and do as asked, trying and failing not to breathe in her scent from the coat.

Now that I’ve scented it twice, I can differentiate it from other omega scents. Runa smells like a vanilla flower I might’ve crushed under my paw as I climbed the highest mountain top to stand there victoriously while the light of the full moon warms my fur.

It’s a pleasant scent, to be sure. Too pleasant for me.

I return to stand by the door while she occupies the kitchen.

She grabs pots and pans.

“Do you have any coffee?” I ask.