Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“I don’t hate you, Asher,” I blurt, needing to interrupt. “Do you think that?”
Pain flashes in his gaze.
He doesn’t understand why I hurt him so deeply before I left. I don’t want him to know the real reason my mom had his dad thrown out. She had those council proceedings locked up to protect me and my identity, but I wanted them locked to protect Asher. The truth would crush him–even more now that he knows I’m his mate.
He works to swallow. “We’re starting over.” Some of the hardness is back in his voice, and it hits me like a blast of cold.
My reaction must show because regret flashes in his hazel eyes. He leans his forehead against mine and whispers it again. “We’re starting over, Lotta. This is our beginning, right here, right now.”
I nod, rolling my forehead along his. “This is our beginning.”
Asher catches my head against his shoulder and kisses the top of it. “Anyway, I think the belief that we are two separate entities in one body instead of one entity in two kind of fucks us.”
“But we are ruled by separate urges.”
“Yes. But think what we can do when those urges get aligned. If we could get them on the same page.”
Resistance drives up in my chest. That opposition I used to push against my parents’ desire for me. It’s a strength I’ve depended on to survive without family and pack. If I get confused now, I fear I’ll lose that power.
I’ll settle in Wolf Ridge in the life my parents wanted for me. Be a high school art teacher and raise pups in the same small town I grew up in. That’s not what I want.
“I’m not against you, Lotta,” Asher says simply, as if he sensed my defensiveness rising. “I’m for you. Team Carlotta, all the way.”
My lips quirk into a grudging smile.
“Whatever that means,” he says. He sets the carton of raspberries on my legs and pries it open, then pops one in my mouth.
The flavor bursts on my tongue, seemingly magnified by one thousand. Something about this moment of sensation amplifying my senses. I soak it in–being held on Asher’s lap, the words, Team Carlotta, all the way echoing in my ears, the last gorgeous purples from the lingering sunset, the endorphins from my orgasms still making me float.
This isn’t going to work, a voice in my head insists.
I know she’s right, but I don’t care. I deserve this moment. This restart with Asher.
This moment, right now.
Another voice whispers something completely audacious. Something I don’t even care about. She whispers,
I deserve love.
Chapter Seventeen
Lotta
Wednesday after school, I meet Olive at 603, an upscale bar down in Cave Hills. Wolf Ridge has nothing upscale. I can’t afford the fifteen dollar drinks here, but it’s better than hitting a local bar and being surrounded by pack members who are all up in your business.
I also need the liquid courage, not that the buzz will last the way it does for humans.
“Are you ready for this?” Olive asks, sliding into the seat next to mine.
“Not even remotely.” I give her a weak smile. “Thank you so much for doing this with me.”
“Of course! Your art is amazing. You deserve to be in the best galleries in the country.”
I laugh. “You haven’t even seen what I’m painting these days.”
“Well, I remember from high school! You’ve always been an amazing artist.”
I’m not sure I can trust her opinion since she’s basing it on my very undeveloped raw talent before I went to college, but it’s nice to have someone in my corner. This is the kind of blind support I always craved from my parents.
The kind my spoiled roommate Andy had—the entitled ass who seems to want to hook up with me when he comes to Arizona but ghosted me about the introduction to the gallery he’s visiting.
That’s part of what made me follow up with Olive about her offer to help. I need to get out there and market myself. I can’t get stuck in Wolf Ridge teaching art for the rest of my life.
An unexpected shifting in my chest accompanies that thought, though.
I may want to escape Wolf Ridge, but what about Asher?
Up until this week, until our picnic date, I had refused to even consider continuing anything with Asher beyond this teaching stint.
But honestly–I knew that was delusional. I can barely make it through twenty-four hours without having sex with him. Do I really think I’m going to roll out of town at the end of the school year?
Beyond biology, I’m catching feelings. Not that I didn’t always have feelings for Asher. I cared deeply about him back when I was tutoring him, before I even knew he was my mate. But now…I’m addicted to his presence. I want more time with him than he gives me. I want conversation and laughter and communion. I want all of Asher. Not just the physical piece he’s willing to give me.