Why can’t things go the way I want? I rushed through my cold shower, so I’d have plenty of time to make something for breakfast and figure out how we would get her a coffee she’d like. This is the Adirondack Mountains. We don’t have fancy coffee. We have Folgers or Maxwell House. We have varied roasts, but not like espresso or something fancy. Lorna had snickered when she saw Gunnar and me in the kitchen making a mess. Such a loving and helpful sister-in-law she is. Neither of us knew what Zoe would want to eat, so we were making what we knew. Between us, we split up the duties of making pancakes, bacon, eggs, and biscuits with sausage gravy. I had been checking all the cabinets for something that might appease her for coffee when that nosey bitch Pollux shut up last night and came in with a note telling us Zoe needed us. While I didn’t trust that bitch as far as my nephew could throw her, something felt wrong. We aren’t fully mated, so it’s not like I could truly sense her being in

Maybe bringing her to our rooms was a bad idea. Other women who crossed the threshold into either of our rooms didn’t stay long enough and were too preoccupied to notice things like my Swan Lake painting or Henrik’s Phantom of the Opera poster. So, we’ve never had to explain them to anyone. I got off easy because mine was one of Char’s paintings. Henrik, not so much since it’s a signed poster. Knowing her family’s history with that opera and that she is a singer gives him an in with her and the rest of her family. I’m not a singer or a painter. I’m not sure what she’d think of my well-hidden talent for ballet. I don’t disclose that to anyone. Henrik, Mom, and my instructor are the only ones who ever knew. Char may have painted the Swan Lake water painting in my room, but she didn’t give it to me. Mom did that. As glad as I was not to have further questions about the painting or poster, I wouldn’t say I liked how Zoe’s shoulders bunched as I walked into Henrik’s bathroom. It made me w

Gunnar and I may be twins, but that doesn’t mean we always see eye to eye or never fight. Sure, it doesn’t happen often, but it still happens. And I would be the first to admit when I’ve crossed a line. Which I did. I crossed a line by throwing that the last female he fucked before we met Zoe was a psycho. It’s not his fault. He can’t predict the future, and he certainly doesn’t control the actions of others.  Just because I’m still pissed about what she and her one-handed packmate tried to do wasn’t cause to take it out on Gunnar. I had already taken the guy’s hand and couldn’t wait to see what Dorian did. He better fucking do something. It won’t take a psychic to predict that all hell will break loose if he doesn’t.  

I know how hard it is for Henrik to discuss his phobia of flying, least of all the source. I’m glad he was willing to open up to Zoe about it. Our immediate family knows what happened, which, by all accounts, is many people. However, they don’t know because Henrik told them. They know because Dad or Mom told them. Of course, how the story is told varies depending on which one told you. Dad always downplayed what happened and made it sound like Henrik was weak. Mom said something closer to what happened, but despite her good intentions, she still made Henrik sound weak. We both knew she never meant it that way, but in her efforts to not paint her mate in a bad light, she sacrificed Henrik’s dignity. Not many people asked Henrik directly, and those who did never got much of an answer as he didn’t want to discuss it. I didn’t tell people about it either. Partially because I knew Henrik didn’t want me to and partially because the one time I told someone I made Dad sound like the monster

I want to let you know that I am NOT a dancer. Mom tried hard to teach me at least basic dance steps, not to embarrass the family at balls. I’ve stepped on my share of toes because no one would accept when I told them I could not dance. I’m not sure why it’s surprising that a guy my size isn’t a good dancer. Gunnar usually mucks it up, too, but he does it intentionally to get out of dancing. As a singer, I can read sheet music and follow a beat and rhythm, but singing differs from dancing. My feet can’t follow the beat, so I tend to stand still or walk when singing. So, I was sure my part of this ‘show’ wasn’t nearly as entertaining to Zoe. At least she didn’t comment on the obvious difference in skills. I could remove my clothes, but not with all the showy dance steps. ‘You’re doing fine. So, stop overthinking.’ Gunnar said in our link. ‘Easy for you to say, twinkle toes.’ I snorted and nearly tripped on my own feet while taking off my pants. ‘See.’ ‘Heads or tails?’ Gunnar ignore