Page 14 of Collared Mate

“Shut up,” I snark back. “I was tired, that’s all. Not a lot of sleep.”

“What the hell were you doing last night that you’re passing out on the kitchen counter? Are you going out and getting drunk or something?”

God. Sometimes he is so naive. He’s also sort of correct. I did go out drinking, and that might actually be why my sleep was so messed up. Alcohol fucks up your REM cycles, I heard.

“No, it was just a late night,” I say. “I don’t drink. You know that.”

I don’t know why I’m lying to him about that. I guess I want to live up to his image of me as his perfect little sister. If he had any idea about the true events of last night, he’d be fuming. Or worse. He might disown me.

I mean, not really. But maybe. Rick can be serious about these things. He’s obsessed with order and loyalty, which I think is because he’s insecure about being in charge of so much money and power. He wasn’t ready to take over as alpha when our father died, and I think he’s been behind the eight ball ever since.

He gives me a look while he makes his protein shake. The blender would have woken me up. He didn’t have to flick my damn ear. Brothers.

“You know I can tell when you’re up to something,” he says, entirely incorrectly. He never knows what I am doing, though he likes to imagine he does. Rick doesn’t have time to keep track of me, even though I know he wants to. He’s going to pretend, instead.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I say.

“Yeah. You should do that,” he says. “You smell like…”

He frowns at me, and I put more distance between us. God. How embarrassing. I showered already, but I bet I still smell like Henry.

Does Rick know that I smell like his estranged friend? I bet there’s some animal part of him that does, but he’s too busy trying to be a cerebral human to realize consciously. Rick’s been trying really hard lately to be on top of everything. Managing me is a complication he doesn’t need. I know this, because he’s told me it before.

I go and get cleaned up. Again. The shower feels incredibly good again, which is the thing about showers. How are we not all in showers the whole time? Bathing is amazing. I should have a bath after this, too. Make sure I’m thoroughly de-scented.

It’s been a very long night, and I need to sleep, so once I’m clean, I put on underwear and a sleep shirt and I crawl into bed. I’m asleep before I close my eyes.

I don’t wake up again until dinnertime. There’s a meal prepared, of course. Chef has been working her magic in the kitchen while I slumbered and Rick did serious business out in the serious world.

I come down to discover that she has clocked out, but beneath a silver cloche is a plate quite literally with my name on it. She’s made something delicious with venison and asparagus, with caramelized carrots and some kind of fancy small bird eggs. There’s a sweet potato mash on the side that’s got all the juices from the venison seeping through it. I eat it in front of the TV, while wearing my robe.

I figure I’ll have a quiet evening in, maybe go to bed early again. Maybe stay up until one or two and then get a nap or something until…

“Do you actually do anything?”

Rick is back. He’s in a suit and he looks like he’s been in meetings all day. He stalks across the lounge with an intentional look on his face. He wants to fuck with me because he’s angry at the world. He has no idea what a very poor target I really am for that sort of shit.

Before he barged in rudely, I was thinking about having a sundae after this, maybe. Banana split, maybe. Banana, ice cream, pink wafer, chocolate drizzle, nuts dashed over the top. I bet we have all of those things. Has to be the right kind of ripeness for the banana though. Not too hard. Not too soft. No bruises. I wonder if there’s any of those.

“You need to be married again,” my brother says. “It’s not good for you to be out and single. I’m going to find you another mate.”

This is typical Swale behavior. Other packs let everyone find their fated mate. Swales are too good for that sort of thing, even if we believed in it, which I am trying not to. The Swale legacy has been built on breeding with the best economic and political potential. Love doesn’t come into it, and fate certainly doesn’t get a vote.

“I don’t want another mate.”

“I don’t want a sister who is sleeping with god knows who. We have reputations to maintain. We are Swales.”

So he hasn’t worked out that it was Henry, but he did work out that it was sex.

“Relax. It was a one-time thing. It was practically an accident. We didn’t even recognize each other.”

“Jesus, Fiona. You slept with a guy and didn’t even know who you were fucking?”

“Stop asking about my sex life if you don’t want to know about it,” I say, finishing my meal. I get up and take my plate to the kitchen. I really want that sundae.

“I’m serious, Fiona. You’re going to marry someone good for you,” he calls after me.

“I’m serious,” I call back. “If you try to make me marry anyone else, it’s going to be the last fucking thing you do.”