Healing of the Wolf - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,118

Wanting her.

How many times could they reduce her to tears in a few minutes? Blinking hard—again—Margery joined Heather on the log and accepted a mug from the batch near the fire.

Vicki sat on her other side and picked up a mug.

Catching the fragrance, Margery smiled. “Hot chocolate’s a great idea.”

After a sip, Darcy widened her eyes. “This is hot chocolate with a major kick. Really nice, Heather.”

“We’ve corrupted Darcy,” Breanne said. “She’s learned the wonders of Baileys, Kahlua, and Amaretto.”

“I don’t even know what those are,” Margery admitted.

“Oh, you will.” Emma laughed. “Be aware, though, that your hot chocolate has a lot of alcohol in it.”

“Fuck yes. I love drunken sex in the moonlight.” Vicki took a hefty gulp as everyone snickered.

Drunken sex with Tynan sounded like a lot of fun. It was a shame Donal had stayed in Cold Creek. Margery took a tentative sip. “Oh, my Gods, this is really good!”

Laughter rippled around the fire.

As if the sound had drawn it, a salamander appeared in the flames, rising to do a swirly dance.

“There’s a pretty guy,” Emma said in approval. “And, look, he brought a friend.”

Well above the flames, where smoke rose into the air, a sylph mirrored the salamander’s dance.

Margery breathed in the cool, clean night air, holding the scents of wood smoke, of deep forest, of chocolate and shifters.

The air of freedom.

For a moment, the past crept closer: The loneliness of the tiny cell. The pain of bruises and welts. The slow exhaustion of impending death. The hard cell floor where she’d sit beneath the narrow window so the moonlight could wash over her.

But she was here now.

Overhead, the stars were appearing in the darkening sky as a silvery glow lit the rim of the mountains. Tonight, the moon would cast her light over the entire world.

Tears prickled her eyes at the beauty.

“I love this. All of this,” she whispered.

Hearing her, Darcy looked around. At the forest, the tents, the females gathered around the fire. She nodded. “Home. Back with our people. Friends.”

Then, being the irrepressible Darcy, she snickered. “And the males aren’t bad either.”

Cheers greeted her statement.

Darcy waggled her brows. “Have you noticed that Margery agrees with me—at least about two of them?”

That got even more hooting. It seemed everyone had noticed.

“Well, honestly. I barely get a newbie broken in, and they go off and get mated.” Heather huffed. “It’s very annoying.”

Her light tone couldn’t conceal the unhappiness beneath it.

Margery took her hand. “I’m sorry.” Because she’d felt the same way in Ailill Ridge when it seemed everyone else had friends and mates and family.

“No, don’t be, sweetie.” Heather leaned against her. “I’m just crabby that I can’t find anyone for myself.”

Vicki frowned. “Considering that you’re strikingly attractive, intelligent, fun…and nice, I always figured your lack of mates was your choice. It’s not?”

Did the human military teach bluntness as a weapon?

Emma frowned at Vicki, then sighed. “All right, I have to admit, I thought the same thing.”

Although the redhead didn’t upset easily, Margery patted Heather’s shoulder in wolfy support.

“Okay, yes, I’m fussy. Potential mates get rejected…for lots of reasons.” Heather stayed, shoulder to shoulder with Margery, obviously needing the contact. She turned to Vicki. “For example, I adore your Alec and Calum, but I grew up with them. They’re like littermates.”

“That makes sense.” Breanne frowned. “My Shay and Zeb were in Rainier with you for a long time. How did you manage to resist them?”

“Girl.” Heather waved her hand dismissively. “In Rainier, Zeb’s idea of conversing was to growl. You and Shay have been good for him but still...”

“I love this!” Emma pointed her mug at Heather. “Now mine!”

With a roll of her eyes, Heather said, “Ryder wasn’t here. Now, Ben is appealing. I love his size and easy-going personality, but my two littermates are bears. When Ben goes bearish, he feels like another brother.”

“You are fussy,” Darcy said in disbelief and offered up her males. “Owen and Gawain?”

“I didn’t know Gawain. But Owen? The only time he said more than two words to a female was at Gatherings.”

Margery grinned. Breanne said Owen used to act like females were a scourge of mosquitoes. Wasn’t it cool that Darcy had snuck in under all his defenses?

The other females were looking at her, waiting for her to ask.

“Um, Donal and Tynan?” Margery tensed. It would be horribly awkward if Heather had wanted them.

“Tynan lived in Seattle, so I hardly knew him. As for Donal, we’d kill each other within a week—and not in a sexy way.” Heather

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