Chapter 29

Sarah POV

Oh, my goddess.

Yeah.

No, I knew when I woke up something wasn’t good. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I knew I would regret it.

And then I remembered the wine, the little class in wines, the way my stomach’s warmth rose up into the rest of me, and how awesome that had felt. And then I remembered, oh dear, flirting with my alpha employer.

Kill me now, I thought. Seriously, just let me die.

I got my all the way open, which meant I could see I was in Zane’s bedroom. I hadn’t been in it before, but who else in the house would have a chest of drawers that looked like it could support a small building or who used a valet stand?

At least I was still in my robe, though my slippers were gone. I felt a little sweaty, but everything else felt fine, except I had a weird headache.

I sat up just as Zane came out of the en suite bathroom, his hair still damp from a shower and his aftershave a hint of bergamot in the air. He was wearing a robe with what I suspected was nothing underneath.

To my everlasting shame, I saw my teeth marks on his neck. They were bright pink and made an even little circle, for all the world like a mating bite.

Yes, I had bit my employer.

“Aren’t you the dark horse?” he asked.

“I swear,” I croaked. “I will never drink again.”

Zane cocked his head slightly and smiled. My stomach did a backflip. Then he shrugged.

“Why not? I thought you were quite warm and fuzzy.”

I groaned and flopped back down on the bed. My head didn’t appreciate it. I couldn’t believe what I had done or why I had done it.

Well, no, I knew why, sort of.

Seriously, it wasn’t the attraction I was trying to fight that was a mystery. Why had I bitten him? Why not kiss him or whatever? Had I become so used to werewolf society and customs I took them on when I was drunk?

Or was I just trying to meet him on his own terms, whatever that meant? Had I turned into some sort of werewolf groupie slut when I wasn’t paying attention? What would I do next time I lost control?

I had been right not to touch alcohol for all those years, if this were what I became after a couple glasses of wine.

“Hey,” I heard Zane say softly. “Seriously, Sarah. Look at me.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. I was robbed of direction or free will. Was he going to fire me now?

He stood by my (well, his) bedside and looked down at me with a serious expression as though to make it clear I could trust his every word.

“First, I really should have warned you that my cousin’s wine is made for werewolves, and that means it’s much stronger than what humans ferment for humans. And I was the one in charge of the pour, which means that I should have been more careful.”

I nodded dumbly. His fault. Right.

But then he did something astonishing; he rubbed his neck with one hand and looked embarrassed.

“It’s part of werewolf culture I’m assuming you couldn’t access as a human, but, well we see each other in our wolf form once a month, or so, as we choose.” He looked at my dull eyes and frowned.

“At our most basic, our most base, we are wolves, Sarah. Do you understand what that means, I mean, socially?”

I shook my head, which protested.

He frowned more deeply. “It is part of our culture that eventually, whether we like it or not, we show our most primal selves to the pack. We see each other stripped of all but the basest of reason.”

He looked away for a moment, clearly gathering his thoughts. “It’s part of what it means to be ‘pack’ that we have all seen each other naked, in fur, howling at the moon.”

I nodded slowly, starting to see where he was going with this.

And he smiled a little, clearly encouraged. “It wasn’t purposeful or conscious on my part, but you have become such an important part of my family, I think I must have wanted to see you uninhibited.” He smiled more. “Howling at the moon.”

Then he sobered. “And for that I’m sorry. I wasn’t consciously trying to get you drunk, but—"

I held up a hand. “I get it.” And I did. After all, he didn’t force the wine down my throat, and no real harm was done.

Then I looked at the tooth marks on his throat, and my face went warm again.

He laughed and pointed to them. “These? Back in college, we would have moon nights where we all got drunk off our asses, took on our wolf forms, and then ran around the campus fighting, humping, and peeing on each other.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the image.

“It was part of the bonding of the pack, though,” he explained, looking earnest. “We learned each other in wolf form, and that way we learned not to fear each other. I do business with people even today that I knew then.”

Something was a little off about that statement, so I just looked at him. I was terribly thirsty.

“On the blue moon, the second full moon of the month,” he said.

“I know what a blue moon is,” I said, feeling my eyes narrow.

“Yes, well, on the blue moon, members of the pack get together.”

“OK,” I said flatly.

He frowned, then continued, “We, by which I only mean those eighteen or over, gather in the nearest wood, and each of us wears clothes representing our household. And then we howl; we howl as if the Realm of Silver were upon us.”

“OK.”

“And then we would merge into a pack, all in wolf form, all of us seeing each other in our most naked and primal form, and there are no secrets among us. We run with the wind, with the growth of the forest, each seeking our truest form.”

“OK.”

He glared at me. “Why do you keep saying ‘OK’? This is important stuff I’m sharing.”

I looked at him. “Werewolves don’t care which full moon it is. Months were made up by mankind, so a blue moon is just another moon.”

“Well.”

“You wouldn’t bother to mention you were naked because you’d all be covered in fur, and none of you believes anything about the Realm of Silver anymore.”

He paused for a moment, then finally said, “Impressive.”

“Not really. I had a daughter to raise, and my first job was to debunk myths and stereotypes. You don’t care a shit about silver, unless it’s shot into your heart, which is the same way humans would feel about regular bullets. And finally, there’s no ‘truest form.’ You’re who you are as man now and as werewolf when you take wolf form. The end.”

He laughed and bowed.

“Raising Chloe was a responsibility beyond any I’d ever known,” I said. “I had to protect her from those who thought it was her fault a non-wolf had chosen her, and ultimately I had to protect myself against those who thought I was ‘pandering’ or somehow trying to be ‘special’ for loving a werewolf daughter.”

I gathered a breath to center myself. “Ultimately, totally, I just wanted to raise a little girl. I didn’t care that she was a werewolf.”

Zane, looking so domestic in his damp robe, considered my words long enough that I began to get worried, but in the end, all he said was, “I appreciate it was difficult for you.”

I nodded back, but seriously? Was that all he had to say? And why was he now avoiding my eyes?