Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
“You don’t like grits?” that grumbly voice asked.
I snuck another peek at Henri.
His features were so different from Matti’s that it was hard to see their resemblance.
Their jaws and cheekbones were different shapes, their eye colors were also not the same; their builds were muscular yet complete opposites. The only similarity they had in common physically was that they were both tall. They were like day and night, on the inside and the outside.
Matti was big for a wolf in that form, thanks to his Amarok ancestry, but he looked like a scrawny teenager compared to Henri—not that I would ever tell him that.
“No, I like grits,” I told him. “I was just surprised to see them. Before I came down, I’d been thinking about how I’d need to squeeze some fiber in during my lunch from here on out.” I beamed. “Thank you for making them.”
His jaw flexed, but he dipped his chin.
“I should have mentioned that everyone that lives here is mainly a carnivore,” Franklin piped in, breaking my concentration from the man that I shouldn’t have been so aware of. “For meal-planning purposes.”
“It’s okay, my parents are both wolves in their magical forms. I’m used to it,” I told the older man.
His gaze narrowed, just for a split second, before he pasted a small, tight smile on his mouth as he nodded. “I see.” Franklin’s attention flicked down to his plate for a moment before he asked, “If you’d like oatmeal… don’t we have some instant oats for the children, Henri?”
“We do,” Fluffy answered, setting his plate on the counter before moving around me. He picked up one mat and set it against the wall closest to the walk-in refrigerator.
Agnes didn’t move, but Duncan’s tail swayed.
Apparently, my donut wasn’t worried about Henri for the time being. Was it the fact he was making food? Or had what happened last night chilled him out?
Henri went for the other mat and placed it a foot away from the first one. “Agnes and Duncan, you can eat now.” One white fluffball and a black one darted toward their breakfasts, no hesitation.
“You said he’s two years old?” my best friend’s cousin asked, watching the pups inhale their meal.
“He is. Two years and a couple months.” Dunky was acting like he hadn’t eaten in a week.
“He has good self-control for his age,” Henri noted in a thoughtful voice.
Of course he did. That comment made me way too smug, but I tried to be humble and say, “He’s a very good boy. How old is Agnes?”
“Eight,” Franklin answered.
Sienna had said Henri didn’t have a mate, but….
No, she wasn’t his. Matti would’ve said something by now.
Come to think of it, unlike Shiloh and Pascal, she hadn’t had angry parents or guardians come out after we’d gotten back to the community yesterday. Henri had told her to get her punishment from the elders. What was her parental situation? Was she the child who lived here? I decided I’d have to ask about it later. Definitely not in front of her. She seemed to be interested in Duncan, but I was pretty sure she’d flashed a canine at me when I’d been walking around her to get my breakfast. A part of me admired her for it.
She was a smart kid, already knowing you couldn’t trust everyone that came into your life.
Most of us took a lot longer to learn that lesson.
I had barely finished eating when the elder pushed his stool back. “I need to get going.” He dusted his hands off before pushing his glasses up his nose. His whole demeanor seemed so uptight, his smile at me forced. “Young lady, I leave you in good hands.”
Whose hands?
The older man peered over at Henri. “Before I leave, Henri, what’s going on? You’ve been surlier than normal this morning.”
Henri, who had been sitting quietly while we ate at the island, grunted without looking away from his plate. “I’m fine.”
From his narrowed gaze, I’d say Franklin didn’t believe him, and neither did I. “Is it…?” He trailed off, whatever he was implying hung in the air, a mystery I didn’t understand.
But I wanted to.
“No,” Henri answered tersely, clearly not wanting to talk about whatever was on his mind.
Deciding to be nice, I threw him a bone. I wanted us to be friends, and friends were always allies. “He’s probably mad at me because I bit him,” I offered as an explanation.
Two sets of eyeballs swung over in my direction.
Henri’s forehead furrowed. “I’m not mad because you….”
I smiled.
The grooves between his eyebrows got even deeper. “You’re fucking with me?”
It was like he couldn’t believe it.
I held my thumb and index finger apart about an inch. “Little bit.” But that confirmed it, he was in a mood over something.
He tipped his head to the side.
I was pretty sure that might have been his amused face, at least one of them. Or it might be wishful thinking.