No.
Vespera.
I'm busy.
You're sitting on a bench smoking.
Exactly. My schedule is packed.
The mate bond tugged towards the packhouse, and I scowled.
Make it stop.
I can't. Perhaps if you stopped fighting it, your ribs wouldn't feel as though they're being pulled apart.
Are you blaming me?
I'm blaming you for treating our mate like an infectious disease.
He's an arrogant Alpha who thinks boundaries are optional.
He brought you coffee.
He also sent me to a doctor over a scratch.
He worries about you.
He needs a hobby.
My wolf growled.
My hobby is preventing you from ruining our life. You've spent seven years running, and now our mate is here, yet you act as though acknowledging him will make your skeleton fall apart.
That's dramatic.
You threatened to stab him when you met.
