Page 14 of In the Mouth of the Wolf (Of Wolves and Kings #1)

14

NOLAN

A few hours after breakfast, we were ready to head back to civilization. I knew I was going to return to some angry council members for leaving town in the middle of the storm, and I wasn’t looking forward to hearing them bitch and moan about having to pick up the slack.

I’d been working my ass off for years to bring Maiingan Hollow into the twenty-first century. With some helpful government contracts, Camden had turned Wolfcrest Construction into one of the biggest employers in the Chippewa Valley, and young families were actually moving in instead of out, lookingfor greener pastures in Madison or the Twin Cities. I was reinvesting that money straight back into the community, proof of which could be seen in our schools, our clinic, our infrastructure… Maiingan Hollow was a good place to live.

But did I ever get any thanks? Nope, just nonstop, ungrateful complaints about shit I didn’t even have any control over.

Sorry your neighbor’s cat keeps shitting in your vegetable garden, Mrs. Silvano, but I can’t really do anything about it.

A whiff of pistachio and honey settled my nerves, and I glanced at the beautiful omega sitting in the passenger seat beside me. Apparently, Cam’s comment had really gotten under her skin, and she had asked if she could ride with me instead of him and the rest of the pack back to town. I couldn’t wait to get to know her better and had had to hide how excited I was for the hours we’d be alone together.

Besides, it was only fair, since I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to her outside of her heat.

She scrolled through my playlists, a small smile on her face.

“Are you going to be my DJ?” I asked. I was dying to know what kind of music she liked.

“Maybe,” she hummed. “You listen to a surprising amount of divorced dad rock.”

“What?” I wanted to grab my phone back and refute her claim, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the road for too long. It was still quite slippery despite the storm ending on Sunday.

“Nickleback?” she asked with a sneer of disgust.

“Hey,” I started. “It’s not cool to hate Nickleback anymore. Didn’t you get the memo? I mean, I dare you to listen to ‘How You Remind Me’ and not start belting.”

Her laugh chimed like a bell, and my chest tightened at the sound of it, knowing I was the cause. “Okay, you’re on. If I can resist, you owe me an ice cream sundae.”

“And if you can’t, you have to split that ice cream sundae with me. You ready?”

Twenty minutes later and we were both still singing like our lives depended on it. We’d moved on from early 2000s rock to my 70s list and had started jamming out to Elton John and ABBA.

Was she off key a bit? Yeah, and it was adorable. But it was the determination and effort she gave each performance that filled an empty part of my heart, one I’d neglected for so long I’d forgotten it even existed.

She was more than just an omega, and my burgeoning feelings for her weren’t just based in biology. Marlowe was my perfect match, the kind of female I wanted to make pancakes for, to go on road trips with, to share a life with. Hearing her voice calmed my soul, and I couldn’t help dreaming about coming home to her after a long day of work, curling up on the couch and taking turns giving each other massages.

How were we going to convince her to bond with us when Cam kept screwing it up with his big, stupid mouth?