Page 13 of My Pucking Mates (Pucking Werewolves #4)

W ell, fuck.

All that time we spent planning…for possibly nothing.

This whole mess is one spark away from going up in flames, engulfing the three of us in an inferno, along with our chances of her accepting us…and by us, I mean me.

After Dolos insists we tell her the truth with sound reasoning, I offer her a curt nod.

She seems to have deflated a fraction as she leads us to the strangely quiet living room. It’s weird to be here while everyone is gone.

As we approach the large couch, I worry that this is it. That it will all come tumbling down around me before I ever get a chance to try and prove myself.

She takes a seat in the center of the couch.

Dolos plops down on the end. I can’t sit.

My nerves are like live wires, dancing around my body looking for a source to ground them.

For that reason, I remain standing, pacing a small path in the floor while they watch.

Neither rush me nor seem irritated with my need to move.

After a few more laps, I feel like the electricity in my limbs is more contained, and I stop. Still standing, because I don’t think I could sit still, I nod to Dolos. “Start at the beginning. Tell her everything. I’ll add my perspective when it’s needed.”

Two hours later, we’ve told her almost everything and answered all of her questions as we went, instead of saving them all for the end.

Up to this point, she’s been very receptive and understanding, having come from a less-than-ideal start to life herself, but I don’t know how far that sympathetic attitude will extend.

Not many people—werewolves or other—are necessarily okay with murder, no matter the justification.

“Today, I learned,” Dolos continues, looking at me with questioning eyes, You ready?

I nod. As ready as I’m going to be. I sit on the other end of the couch from Dolos, sandwiching her in, and preparing myself for the worst as Dolos tells her his side of that night, leading up to mine.

My fists clench and unclench in my lap. I watch her take in every word with openness and concern etched in her features. Is that concern for us and Mama? Or concern for where this is going?

Resting my elbows on the top of my thighs and hanging my head, I attempt to steady my breathing in preparation for what I have to tell the only woman that can break me.

I feel both their eyes on me when Dolos finishes his monologue, and they redirect their attention to me. Not even lifting my head, far too terrified to watch her face morph into disgust and rejection. With one final inhale and long exhale, I tell her everything. Just as I told Dolos.

When the final words leave my lips, I realize I’m shaking.

I’ve never really been afraid of anything in my existence.

I learned early on that fear only gave things more power over you.

Therefore, I didn’t allow myself to feel fear.

I pushed myself to analyze my doubts and concerns and adapted potential fears into things I challenged myself to overcome, vowing not to let them consume me.

“I’ll understand if it’s too much for you…I…you deserve so much more…I-I’m sorry.”

Preparing myself for her rejection, I squeeze my eyes shut, praying to the Goddess to give me even the smallest chance. Let me take care of her. Let me love her.

Lost in my worry and newfound fear, I’m surprised by her vanilla-mint scent overwhelming my senses a fraction of a second before she drops into the space between my legs.

Her incredibly soft, gentle hands cup my face, lifting it so that I’m forced to meet her watery green eyes.

Her eyes volley between mine. I brace for impact when her lips twitch, ever so slightly.

I’m too stunned to realize that she’s crashed her mouth against mine, pulling away too soon. She scolds me between slamming kisses against my lips, “You. Stupid. And. Beautiful. Man.”

Opening my eyes to watch her and make sure I’m not dreaming, I find her playfully glaring at me with a watery smile on her face. “Please tell me there’s more. Please tell me this isn’t the reason you’ve kept yourselves from me?” she asks in disbelief.

My brows crease in confusion; unable to find my words, I nod full of apprehension.

“Eris.” She rests her soft hand on my face once more, and I can’t help but lean into. “You’ve met my father. How could you possibly think I would hold such an act against you?” She shakes her head at me with the softest smile, glancing over her shoulder to Dolos.

“Seriously, boys?” she asks, looking between us again, “Is that really all it is? You’re not secret serial killers or human traffickers or something, are you?” she asks in jest, but I can see the underlying seriousness.

“None of the above, Precious,” I vow.