Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“She’ll join the pack,” said Zander, confident.
Derren tilted his head. “What makes you so sure?”
“She’s full of questions about the pack, our culture, the laws we abide by.” She quizzed Zander daily. “In my opinion, she’s always been fascinated by wolf shifters for a reason—deep down in her soul, she knew she belonged to one. She subconsciously knew she’d be part of a pack one day. She’s ready for it. Hungry for it on some level.”
“He’s right,” said Ally. “When she’s with us, when we’re together as a group, something in her sort of . . . settles. I can’t explain it. But it makes me think that joining our pack won’t be a big problem for her. Leaving her family will be, though. You can’t ignore that, Zander. You have to face it so you can think of the best way to deal with it.”
A cool breeze slid over Zander, bringing with it the scents of wet grass, salty water, and . . . human males. He stiffened. “We have visitors.”
Derren nostrils flared, and then he tensed. “Where’s Gwen?”
“She’s inside the house; she’ll be fine,” said Zander.
Bracken lifted his brows. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Suds splattered on the ground as Gwen scrubbed the side of the truck with the wet sponge. Soapy water pooled at her feet and dotted her legs. Her tank top and denim shorts were wet with soap and water, but the air was so hot and dry that they wouldn’t be damp for long. Her sunglasses protected her eyes from the shards of sunlight that bounced off the wet, clean paint.
Washing her truck was not her favorite pastime, but she’d needed something to do. She was used to new guests arriving at least once a week—used to having rooms to clean, linen to launder, Welcome Hampers to prepare, and people to take on tours around the marsh.
It was strange to have so much time on her hands. Hell, she’d been so bored, she’d even cleaned her own room. Marlon and Yvonne had made it worse by fussing over her. Needing some air and space, she’d turned to her dirty truck.
Having something to do also helped distract her from thoughts of Kenny and the Moores. On the evening of the day she’d met with Kenny, Geena had called to say that he’d seemed very happy after the meeting. He’d supposedly contacted Ezra Moore and instructed him to back off.
So far, his instruction had worked. There had been no more attacks or problems. Gwen wasn’t confident that things would remain so calm, though. Not when the people in question were laws unto themselves.
Zander’s tension hadn’t eased either, but she suspected that was partly due to the lingering threat that Rory presented. She wasn’t worried about that moron because, well, he was a moron. But she could happily shoot him right in the dick for toying with Zander and using her to do so.
It was laughable to be protective of someone who was a gazillion times stronger than she was. If anyone could take care of himself, it was Zander Devlin. He didn’t need her. It was both strange and . . . uplifting to be around someone who didn’t need her to be the strong one.
Hanna, Yvonne, Julie, and Marlon had all used her as a crutch to some extent. Hanna was a lost cause, but Gwen had shaken free of her as a child. The others didn’t need her so much anymore. Julie now had Chase, and Marlon’s inner strength had bloomed once he’d admitted he was gay and stopped forcing himself to be something he wasn’t. Now that Yvonne no longer had her husband browbeating her, she was better too. Oh, she still liked burying her head in the sand, but she didn’t lean so much on Gwen anymore.
Gwen loved her family, had no problem being there for them, but she’d never really realized just how tired she’d been of always being their rock. Not until Zander came along, offering his support, protection, and strength. It had been so tempting to just accept what he offered and let him take the weight of everything, but she’d resisted at first. Really, he’d just seemed too good to be true—definitely too good to be truly interested in someone like her.
She’d given up resisting, and she felt lighter for it. She still thought that a female shifter might suit him better, but who was she to tell another person what was or wasn’t good for them? Or what they did and didn’t want? It was insulting, really. Zander was a full-grown man who had his own mind.
Done scrubbing the window, she swiped her forehead with the back of her hand and then dropped the sponge in the bucket. Iridescent bubbles slithered down the red paint and onto her shoes. Nice. Picking up the hose, she turned it on. Water blasted from it, rinsing the soap from the car and dripping on the ground. It was as she turned off that hose that she heard the chuckles. Familiar, irritating chuckles.