Page 68 of Wolf’s Fated Bride

Meeting my parents for breakfast has been the family tradition ever since I can remember. No matter the situations my parents have fought through over the years, they always show up for Sören, Maren, and me for breakfast.

After the night of the full moon, the breakfast table get-together is slightly awkward since we’ve all stayed up all night.

Blade seems to have caught on to the family tradition, or perhaps his family has the same ritual, because he joins me at the table first, freshly showered, hair still wet, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I can tell right away he’s hooked up with someone.

“Morning,” he greets me as he sits across from me, his nose working overtime trying to sniff out who I was with last night, if anyone. He’s not even subtle about it. But I scrubbed my body and hair in the shower. No way anyone will smell Ash on me. My parents would stroke out, and before I got a chance to explain, my father would try to stab Ash’s neck with a fork.

“How was your night?” I ask.

“Busy.” One corner of his lips turns up.

Ah. “More than one nest visit?”

“Let’s just say I was busy.”

I mentally go through the females in the pack, trying to figure out who Blade might’ve shacked up with and come up with a few names.

“How about you?” He sips coffee as we wait for breakfast service.

“I kept busy too.”

“Hey.” Maren walks in, freshly showered and scrubbed as well. Too well; her skin is red from the rough sponge she used to scrub off Sven’s scent.

Maren sits next to me and leans in to sniff my shoulder and then hair. “Booo,” she says. “You washed him off.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“You know why I did that.”

I do.

Blade clears his throat. “Pray share, I have a fear of missing out.”

“Honestly,” Maren says, pouring honey into her cup of tea. “You two are obvious.”

Blade wiggles his eyebrow. “We are, are we?”

“Stop that,” I tell him, but I don’t deny her assumption. If she thinks it was Blade who serviced me last night, then I’m going with it. Ash mentioned he didn’t want the treaty derailed, and Maren can assume all she wants. I’m not lying to my sister. I’m just not going to correct her, and I get the impression Blade will go along with whatever for as long as it amuses him.

“You guys are glowing,” Maren says. “I’m happy for you.”

“How was your night?” I ask her.

“Amazing.”

Sören walks in with a croissant. My mouth waters as he bites into it before sitting a chair away from Blade and near where my father will sit at the head of the table. Sören looks around. “Where’s Ash?”

When nobody answers, I nudge my sister.

Maren looks up from the teaspoon she’s been swirling for the past few minutes like a love-struck child. “Did you say something?”

“Sören wants to know where Ash is,” I tell her.

Maren blinks. “Um, in the shower.”

I groan. She ought to at least pretend that she cares.

Since my brother isn’t showered or scrubbed, he might’ve taken advantage of the storm and spent time purging his element into the blizzard. One time, he told me he’s not allowed to influence the weather because elements shouldn’t disturb natural events, but he plays in the storm the way a boy might play in the sand.