“Coffee or orange juice?”“Water is fine.”His eyebrows went up.“Uh-oh,” Auriele said, but she was smiling.Darryl was not. “Are you implying that my coffee is not the best in four counties? Or my fresh-squeezed orange juice is less than perfect?”

“Most of the pack would rather have Darryl mad at them than Auriele.”

“She crawled,” Ben said. There were tears in his voice. That was wrong. Ben barely even tolerated me on the best of days. “She crawled to the bathroom to clean herself again. If it weren’t for the two subs in the pack, I’d be on the bottom. And she wouldn’t stand up in my presence for guilt.”

“Thank you, Adam,” I told him. “Thank you for tearing Tim into small Tim bits. Thank you for forcing me to drink one last cup of fairy bug-juice so I could have use of both of my arms. Thank you for being there, for putting up with me.” By that point I wasn’t laughing anymore. “Thank you for keeping me from being another of Stefan’s sheep—I’ll take pack over that any day. Thank you for making the tough calls, for giving me time.” I stood up and walked to him, leaning against him and pressing my face against his shoulder.“Thank you for loving me.”His arms closed around me, pressing flesh painfully hard against bone. Love hurts like that sometimes.”

“Um. Charles thinks that his wolf has chosen me as his mate.""In less than one full day?" It did sound dumb when he said it that way."Yes." She couldn't keep the uncertainty out of her voice, though, and it bothered Charles. He rolled to his feet and growled softly."Charles also said I was an Omega wolf," she told his father. "That might have something to do with it as well."Silence lengthened and she began to think that the cell phone might have dropped the connection. Then the Marrok laughed softly. "Oh his brother is going to tease him unmercifully about this.”

“Drink it,” I told her. “It’s good for what ails you. Caffeine and sugar. I don’t drink it, so I ran over to your house and stole the expensive stuff in your freezer. It shouldn’t be that bad. Samuel told me to make it strong and pour sugar into it. It should taste sort of like bitter syrup.” She gave me a smile smile, then a bigger one, and plugged her nose before she drank it down in one gulp. “Next time," she said in a hoarse voice, “I make the coffee.”

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?" he asked. "Enough to accept my apologies?" I suggested in a small voice. "Heck no," he said, and pushed off from the wall, stalking forward. When he reached me, he put his hands up and touched the sides of my neck with the tips of his fingers--as if I were something fragile. "No apologies from you," he told me, his voice soft enough to melt my knees and most of my other parts.”