They beamed.
Absolutely beamed. Me too.
One of them whispered, “She’s pretty.”
The other whispered, “She smells like Alpha.”
I almost choked.
Martha’s eyebrows lifted.
I growled.
Silently.
Mostly.
The mother grabbed both pups and fled with a whispered apology that Martha waved away before I could blink.
When they were gone, I looked at her, and she was still smiling.
“You look like I just solved peace in the Middle East.”
“You bowed back to pups who were bowing because the entire pack has decided you are already something you haven’t chosen to be.”
Her expression shifted then.
“I know,” she said.
My heart tightened.
“And?”
“And I didn’t die. Nor have I murdered you, yet.”
I stared at her.
She shrugged one shoulder, but her fingers found the edge of her sleeve and worried
