Marcel Conway is fresh on the market for a new year of the Mating Season: a sex auction masquerading as a Peace Trade to keep the packs from going to war. But she's gritting her teeth and digging her heels in, determined to come home to her small bu...
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I hardly slept that night, tossing and turning constantly, fighting against the throes of sleep. It had to have been three in the morning before I drifted off into an anything but peaceful slumber.
Two hours later, my alarm was barking insistently, forcing me awake.
Getting ready seemed to be an insurmountable task, between my constantly quivering fingers and shaking hands. My heart was stampeding in my chest, and I was absolutely certain that a dose of coffee would be lethal.
After a hot shower, the last that I would be enjoying for several days, I exited my room, donned in a pair of black Nike shorts and an old black t-shirt. I tied my running shoes extra tight, mentally facepalming at the idea of tripping and eating shit right in front of the girls. With my hiking pack slung over my shoulder, I entered the kitchen, my heart hammering away as I noticed it was occupied.
Jane and Donovan stood in front of the sink, murmuring to each other quietly.
At my presence, they both looked up to meet my eyes.
"Are you ready?" Jane asked just as Donovan opened his mouth to speak. He shot her a rather annoyed look.
"No. But the sooner we get this over with the sooner I can put this behind me," I confessed and a look of alarm shot across Jane's face. She urgently grabbed Donovan's arm.
"Donny, did you hear her?" She hissed. "She hasn't even had a cup of coffee and she just made a complete sentence! Something is wrong!"
I tried to smile. Tried. My lips quivered feebly and Donovan's confused expression melted into a doting and warm one as he maneuvered around the island to gather me in his arms. His arms snaked around my shoulders, pulling me into him until my face was pressed flush against his chest and I shakily laced my arms around his middle.
The nerves, at last, began to calm.
"You didn't sleep well, did you?" He murmured into my hair and I bit my lip to fight back a reluctant groan.
"I didn't," I said admittedly, looking up to see his face. At one point, the closeness of his face to mine would have sent me into a panic, but now I drew comfort at his intimacy. His brows furrowed at my answer.
"Marcel-..."
"I know!" I cut him off, feeling my face already pinkening. "I just...it was already late. I didn't want to bother you."
"You need all the energy you can get today. If you think you might not be able to today, we can push this back," He told me tenderly, his rich, molten gold eyes swimming with concern. A real smile blossomed across my face and I rest my hands on his chest. Baby Jesus in a manger, what is his workout regime? Lifting lumberjacks?
