“What’s wrong?” Quetzalli asked, and for the first time since our pack had left, there was a hint of concerned warmth in her voice. The thought flickered through my mind that Quetzalli was really a better companion to have in Haven than either Galena or Oscar since Quetzalli was tough but kind, and her words made me realize that she might actually forgive me one of these days. Echoing my thoughts, the ache in my stomach seemed to dull by a minuscule amount, reducing the pain from a mind-wrenching presence to something I could think past if I focused hard enough. The easing pain even made me smile at my unchosen companion.
“I thought I heard my wolf,” I answered her question, then continued. “But you’re right, Haven shouldn’t be like this. It feels like a ghost town, but with the people still in it.” In fact, Haven felt much the way I had when I sought my wolf out in her lair and found her missing, but there was no way the entire community’s wolves could be absent.
“Your father,” Quetzalli said simply, her words confirming the insight from my wolf. There was more here than met the eye, and I needed to strike to the heart of the matter if I wanted to figure out what was going on.
***
That was easier said than done, though, since Chief Wilder was far too busy to even take meals with his wife and daughter that day and the next. In fact, instead of hunting down the cause of Haven’s collective depression, I ended up suffering through an afternoon surrounded by giggling cousins as they fitted me for my wedding dress (groom to be announced). The trauma was lessened only slightly when I realized that Quetzalli was even more shell-shocked by the episode than I was.
Since Cricket was darning socks in the corner as a sort of mood stabilizer, I did my best to smile and nod, otherwise ignoring what was going on around me. But even my hard-boiled mood couldn’t overlook the excitement of my youngest cousin, Iris. “You’re so lucky,” the teenager trilled as she hemmed the edges of a petticoat several hours after the bridal shower had begun. I couldn’t quite tell if the young werewolf was referring to the quality of the dress we were constructing or to my mate choices. Either way, I felt far from lucky.
In fact, I couldn’t help counting how many hours it had been since I had last gazed upon Wolfie’s face, which made for a more pleasant daydream than the one Iris would have chosen for me. Surely Wolfie must have calmed down enough by now to make an appearance here at Haven, I pondered. Unfortunately, it was beginning to seem more and more likely that Wolfie had ordered Quetzalli to join me, then had changed his mind about hoping to see me again. But if that was the case, why hadn’t the young alpha sent someone to fetch Galena’s spouse home?
“Mmmm,” Fernanda hummed, bringing me back to the present and responding to Iris’s enthusiasm. “Hunter is a nice specimen, and Reed isn’t so bad either, if you like them young.” She winked at me saucily, and I remembered that Fernanda had gotten married even before I left Haven. I guess she’d had a thing for young men even then.
I’d been trying not to think about the four potential mates, hand-picked by my father, who I was to meet at dinner the next night, but my cousins’ banter finally made the future impossible to ignore. Just remembering what tomorrow held in store for me made my stomach decidedly queasy, but I couldn’t expect a reprieve on that account. When it came to a bargain, my father would expect the other party to live up to their word even if they had to do so between bouts of vomiting, and as much as I hated the fact, the Chief and I had made a deal. I shivered, even though the room was hot from the coal furnace in the basement of my family home, and wished with all of my heart that I was back in Dale’s basement with Keith pounding on the floor above me, playing Dance, Dance, Revolution at two in the morning.
My thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by Cricket, who was kind enough to put me out of my misery. She’d clearly joined us for a different purpose than to merely keep me in line, and I reminded myself that I needed to give my stepmother credit for making my confinement less painful than it could have been. “I think we should be able to finish up the rest later,” Cricket said, rising to usher the young werewolves out the door, and I sent her a thankful smile.
Which reminded me of the very worst part of my voluntary incarceration. I was beginning to understand how I could learn to be content here, to turn into a plumper version of Cricket and to settle into Haven life, forgetting what I was missing in the outside world. I’d spent the morning helping my stepmother prepare the day’s bread, and had ended up enjoying the yeasty odor and the feel of resilient dough between my fingers. Later, we hung sheets out on the line to dry, mopped the front hallway, and even washed windows, each task provided immediate gratification that had been lacking in my previous life. Now, a traitorous part of my mind told me that perhaps my father had my best interests at heart all along—maybe this simple women’s work was what I had been born for.
“Well, that didn’t end a moment too soon,” groused Quetzalli, and I smiled in relief. At least I had Quetzalli present to take the edge off my internal craziness.
***