The Beta's Contract Mate
Yesterday, after our little conversation, he didn’t bother me, but since we left the pack house this morning, he has been trying to get into conversations with me.
“No. I hate white.” I blurt out, picking up other colors, bringing them to my wrist. I want to reach for the peach floral material, but it’s like he can read my mind because he picks it and gives it to me.
“This would look nice on you,” he says. I stare at him, narrowing my eyes.
“What did you say your gift was?” I ask, tilting my head, and he chuckles, picking up some other colors I was looking at.