Page 42 of Wolf’s Fated Bride

“I thought my reaction to their romance was enough. No need to worry. I won’t retaliate against Maren or her lover. We’ll proceed as planned.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said. We’ll proceed as planned. We’ll leave Stormcrest and move to Fireborn territory as agreed. Nothing changes regarding your parents and their human alliances. In my territory, we’re free to do what we want without consequences for any of you since I make the rules there.”

“How will you marry Maren if she’s allowed to be with another man?”

“You let me worry about that while you pack up and come with your sister.”

“Me?” I shriek.

“You.”

I shake my head. “No.”

Unbothered, he eats his breakfast. “Same as before with your visit to the healer. I wasn’t asking.”

“But I’m not supposed to leave with you guys. My father makes the rules at Stormcrest, and the rules say that I stay here. With my parents.” The youngest omega wolf remains at Stormcrest. It’s been that way for centuries.

“Don’t care. You’re coming with me.”

I swallow. “You?”

“Us. Whichever way you want it.”

“Even if I wanted to, my parents and Sören won’t let me go.”

“We have to convince them otherwise.”

“My dad is more stubborn than anyone. My brother will look out for the pack’s future, and I’m part of Stormcrest’s future.”

“Is that because you’re supposed to marry into your own pack?”

“Yes! You know the laws.”

“Those are customs, not laws.”

“They might as well be laws if we’ve followed them forever.”

Again, Ash shrugs. “You should pack.”

“Laws don’t change just because you want them to.”

“Yes, little wolf, they do. I suggest you start packing now, because we must make haste so we can avoid the next storm.”

“Morning, children,” my mother announces as she sweeps in. She wears her hair up, showing off the beautiful earrings my dad bought her many years ago, when they cared about each other. A low neckline and a black dress, along with her red lipstick, tell me she’s flirting with my dad this heat cycle.

My mother doesn’t have heats anymore, but she is an omega with a healthy sex drive, even in her sixties.

“Morning, Mother,” Ash says, then pours her a glass of pineapple juice.

Mother? I roll my eyes.

“Put a dash of rum in there, dear.”

“At your service.” Ash finds the cabinet and the rum for her.

“You’re a sweetheart,” she says as he pours rum in her coffee.