Rhapsody for a Wolf
Quidnunc13sorry i can't be perfectyou will regret rejecting mesorry i don't treat you like a goddesshe finally regrets it after seeing me marry another
That was all before I was even born, let alone adopted.
“Would you like a drink?” I offer. It seems rude not to. She shakes her head, so I indicate an empty chair and sit down myself. “So, you remember Aiden, of course.” I remember what would be expected, socially, in Mary’s time, and add some more. “He’s my Mate, which is the werewolf equivalent of a wife. Werewolves don’t have divorce, I don’t think. You mate for life.”
Mary tilts her head thoughtfully, then somehow manages to produce what look like rose petals, which she scatters over my head. They vanish as they land, much like Bellmouth’s drool but prettier.
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