Speaking of…

Cade sidled up to me and plunked his chin on my shoulder. He was younger than me by nine months but just as tall as Knight. Both of them were going to be six feet, just like Daniel, whereas I was five-feet nothing. That was a similarity between my mom and me. We were both shortasses.

“What’re you looking at?”

I speared him with a glance. “You?”

He snorted, and his boyish face lit up some. He was a beautiful boy, and when he turned into a man, I was going to be a lucky lady. His eyes were faintly almond-shape, the black orbs enough to pierce me to the quick now, never mind when I was older. He had kind of flat cheeks but a stubborn, strong jaw, and lips that were a pale peach which were always quick to smile, fleshy on the bottom, a little sparse on top. His eyes burned with humor when he was amused, but could flash with heat when he was annoyed. His hair was cut close to his head on the sides and back, longer on top. The straight black locks were silky to the touch—I knew because I’d stroked them often enough.

It was strange being with your mates constantly. There was nowhere I’d rather be, nowhere at all, but the usual things that girls my age had, I didn’t want or need, but because I wasn’t totally abnormal, I wondered if I was missing out.

I had no need for friends, because I had them.

There was no need for crushes, either, because they were all I saw.

I had no celebrity posters on the walls in my room, because if I was going to drool over anyone, it was them.

When I’d learned the pleasure that could be had when I touched myself, between my legs, I thought of them. Of their hands on me. Of their kisses.

I’d do everything with them. All of my firsts would belong to them.

And vice versa.

Well, except for Daniel.

Heat flashed through me at the thought of him.

I hadn’t seen him in so long, but I’d seen pictures of him when he was my age now—nearly fifteen. He was my secret crush. I couldn’t wait until I got to be with him. Until we were all together at long last.

Cade’s hands settled at my waist and he squeezed gently. “You’re pensive.”

My lips twitched because he was like Jackson and Sammy—always around Ethan, who usually had his nose in a book whenever he wasn’t busy helping to lead the pack.

“I am,” I admitted, reaching over to touch the silver frame that housed my parents’ picture. “Do you think I look like them?”

His frown as he took in a photo he’d seen a thousand times told me how hard he was concentrating, and I’d admit I was touched. Neither he, nor Knight—even in bossy mode—ever dismissed me as being foolish. Even though I asked them this question once or twice a month.

He tugged on my hair and murmured, “You have your momma’s curls.”

I grinned at that, stupidly happy about the comparison—he’d never told me that before. “I do?”

“Yup,” he confirmed, twisting one long lock around his finger. “You didn’t have this many curls back when your hair was shorter.”

My nose crinkled. “I hate having long hair.”

He snorted. “You don’t have to look like her.” He tugged at the strand around his finger. “Looks cute though.” He tipped his head back. “Doesn’t it, Knight?”

“Don’t it, what?”

“Sure he does the bad grammar thing on purpose,” Cade mumbled under his breath to me, making me laugh.

“Doesn’t Gracie’s hair look cute all curly, like.”

Knight’s focus shifted from the book on his lap—he had an exam in the morning—to me. “She always looks cute.”

My lips curved. “Good answer, Knight.”

Heat flashed in his eyes. “It’s the truth.”

I settled my weight against Cade, rocking slightly when I faced the fact that that heat did things to me that weren’t right, not at my age. Certainly not at Cade’s.

Mother, I couldn’t wait until we were all nineteen. That was the golden age when the pack would let people like us, kids who knew their mates since childhood, trigger the claim.

Like he knew what I was thinking, he banked the heat and murmured, “You’re beautiful, Gracie. Just as you are. You don’t need to look like your momma to take my breath away.”

That had my own breath plain skipping from my lungs. “You really mean that? She was so pretty—”

“You’re prettier still because you’re you,” Cade concurred, whispering the words in my ear.

I squeezed the hand he’d placed on my waist, sighing with gratitude for them both.

I was so lucky.

Twisting a little, I pressed a kiss to his cheek then forcing myself to move away from the one picture I allowed myself of my parents, I moved over to Knight and resting my hands on the cast iron bedstead, peered over his shoulder at his book.

As I moved, he jerked upright, but I’d already seen he had his phone there. At first, it didn’t register, then anger whipped inside me.

“You’re texting Ashley?” I ground out as he pushed his book beneath a pillow, like that could hide it.

“No, don’t be stupid,” he retorted, but his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment which was all the answer I needed.

Maybe later, I’d be hurt. Maybe later, I’d feel disappointed in him, because that flush represented so many things and I wasn’t too young to sense it. Now? I was just pissed.

“Don’t call her stupid,” Cade blustered, his fists bunching at his sides as he read between the lines just like me. “What the fuck are you doing, Knight? Why would you text her anyway? You know she’s always a bitch to Grace!”

There was no denying that.

Every school had one, even a small packhouse school like ours, and Ashley was the Mean Girl.

But there were Mean Girls and then there was this level of stupidity because everyone knew we were mated. Knight too. He’d been the first to frickin’ learn it!

“I’ll kill her,” I rasped, grinding out the words in a way that spoke of just how deep my anger flowed.

Knight’s eyes flared wide. “No! You don’t have to do that—”

“Why? Because you have feelings for her?”

Cade’s words were just more gas on top of the flames that had already been stoked by those few simple texts I’d seen.

Ashley: I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I always miss you after class breaks.

She couldn’t wait to see my mate. She missed my man.

Rage whipped through me with the force of a hurricane, and it was only then that I registered the room itself was moving. Not like with a tornado, not with storm winds that were battering us from the outside in. But from me. The anger ripped through me and blasted into the bedroom, tearing books from shelves, tearing paintings off the walls, and slamming the little ornaments on the dresser and nightstands onto the ground.

“Stop it!” Cade rumbled, his hands reaching for me, but there was something between us. Something overpowering that had him flying to the other side of the room too, colliding with the wall with an ‘oompfh!’ Even as I hoped he was okay, my focus never shifted from Knight who was staring at me with that guilty look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped.