4. Rosemary and Rejection

JASPER

M y beautiful roommate dominates my thoughts all morning. She gets ready while I am running and then slips past me to grab breakfast at the diner before heading to her classroom.

Even after she leaves, I can smell her herbal scent all over my cabin. It’s tempting to step into her room and bury my nose in her pillow, but that would be creepy - not to mention she might be able to tell, so I keep my feet firmly at the threshold.

Driven to distraction, my performance at training suffers. Fisher pairs me with Onyx, and normally I would have him on the ground in seconds. But he whirls around me and twists my arm, forcing me to my knees.

“See? I can absolutely whoop your ass!” he croons, turning to make sure there were witnesses.

“You’re ridiculous,” I say, brushing myself off.

Onyx grins. “Maybe, but I still won.”

Fisher walks past and crosses his arms, scowling at me and his son. “Get your head in the game, kid.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply automatically.

“Want to go again?” Onyx bounces between the balls of his feet.

My wrist twinges as I rotate it. “Sure.” I roll my shoulders before stepping back to the mat. “Hey, can we switch patrols? I’d like an earlier lunch today if that’s okay.”

“No problem.”

Onyx doesn’t win a second time, but I go easy on him when I pin him against the mat. Across the gym, I spy Fisher grappling with Slate, the older man slowly losing ground.

Two and a half hours later, Onyx is taking my patrol with Cassia and Vale, and I’m headed toward the meadow.

Right on time, the wildlings pour out of the schoolhouse and tumble toward the diner to get their lunches. I wait for Marigold to follow them, but she doesn’t.

Minutes tick by, and I begin to suspect that she is choosing to work through lunch, or is simply too distracted to remember to grab food.

Absolutely unacceptable .

Chewing my lip, I try to remember how Marigold prefers her hamburgers. Cheese, bacon, who doesn’t love bacon, and maybe some veg? I take it easy on the sauce because I can’t recall her eating mustard or ketchup in front of me. Surely she likes the secret sauce Crickett makes, but if not - I’ll rush back to the lunch spread and make her a new one. She deserves to eat what she likes.

I push open the classroom door with my back while holding both lunch plates. Marigold putters around the tables, her long hair swaying as she moves, twisted into a thick braid. She’s wearing a dress, a dark goldenrod color with tiny burgundy mushrooms scattered across the fabric. It hugs her trim waist and flares over those luscious hips.

With a cough, I force my gaze up to her head. I really shouldn’t be looking at her hips. Or that ass. But the soft curls escaping her plaited reddish-gold hair are just as distracting.

She turns at the sound of my footsteps and smiles. It hits me like sunshine after a lifetime of shadow, warm and a little blinding.

“Did you forget to eat again?” I tease, holding up the food as an offering.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she protests, closing the distance between us. I have a sudden impulse to hug her, maybe lift her off the ground. Delicately, she takes the plate and hops onto the nearest table.

“Thank you.” She stuffs three potato chips into her mouth at the same time .

Between bites of cheeseburger, I survey the classroom. I’m not sure I’ve actually been in here before.

“This is a really nice space. I love how much of the kids’ art is on the walls. I’m sure they feel really special,” I say, thinking out loud.

“Thanks,” Marigold says, a rosy tint spreading across her nose and cheeks. Her ankles cross and uncross twice.

Wiping the salt off my fingers, I realize I should have brought drinks. Marigold must have the same thought because she takes a drink from her hydro flask and then holds it out to me. Sharing drinks, that’s a new thing. I’m not about to turn her down though. With a slight hesitation, I close my lips around the built-in straw and take a long drink.

“Is this flavored water?”

Marigold shrugs with a guilty smile. “Yeah, I think today it’s strawberry-watermelon, maybe? It helps me drink more water. Otherwise, I’m so busy chasing these kids around that I forget to drink anything and end up dehydrated.”

“Smart.” I take another sip, loving the way it reminds me of her. “So will you be home right after work or do you have plans?” Her lips curl into a smile at the word home .

Looking away, she shrugs. “I think I’ll stop by my dad’s cabin for a bit. Not sure I’ll be back before dinner, but we can eat right away and then have some hang-out time afterward.”

Her dad’s cabin… her father is a Zeta and happens to have the late afternoon patrol, so he wo n’t be home. Indigo will be with her grandmother apprenticing, and her youngest brother, Cobalt, always plays soccer with the other kids his age until dinner. Unless she’s babysitting Cobalt, it sounds like she’s visiting an empty cabin.

“Why?” I ask tentatively, against my better judgment.

Marigold hesitates, taking a bite of her hamburger. I watch her chew and swallow, not ready to let it go. “I like to check in on them.”

That’s evasive.

My eyes narrow. “Aren’t your dad and brothers all out of the house between school and dinner?”

“Oh, yeah,” she answers, her voice a bit higher. “Sometimes I like to help out a bit. You know?”

I didn’t know, but I nod along and toss the last bite of my lunch into my mouth. Mentally, I catalog each of her words so I can mull them over later because it sounds like she’s going over to help out with housekeeping and that would be strange.

Before I can question her further, Willow, Elwood, and Daisy storm into the classroom, arguing loudly. I catch the words wolf, gray, and biggest.

“Shush, you won’t know what your wolf looks like until it happens, so chill,” Marigold scolds, clearly familiar with the argument.

She shoos them to the table where she’s laid out various math worksheets with the kids’ names written in bold sharpie across the top so they don’t grab the wrong one. It must be tricky preparing so many different grades at the same time.

“I’ll see you tonight.” She’s busy, and I’d better get ready for patrol. At least she turns and waves at me before more kids run through the door and steal her attention.

My hand grips the door frame as I look back. She’s beaming even as she instructs her rowdy students, like sunshine that can’t stop shining. My afternoon duties suddenly seem dull in comparison, but I won’t shirk my responsibilities.

Striding across the meadow, I’m joined by packmates also assigned to afternoon scouting. In the training building, we strip and shift into our four-legged versions.

Taking a deep breath, the scents of the entire pack stream through my consciousness. I can pick out Hazel’s honey scent mixed with Slate’s woodsy smell. Onyx, Marigold, Heath. And I can sense the general emotions of my packmates clearly, now that my human inhibitions are wiped away.

A gentle contentment simmers between all the members of the Bracken Creek Pack. I’ll never get tired of these feelings, after twenty-plus years of jealousy, anger, pride, and greed from my birth pack. In lieu of avoiding my pack’s bond, I sink into it, letting it fill me.

I lead our group northeast, toward Ironcrest. We circle the pack’s boundaries, looking for any hint of invaders, rogue wolves or other packs. All is calm. Moving west, our group picks up speed.

Patrol isn’t only about safety. It’s about running together as much as enforcing our borders. The small groups are always varying, and today I run beside Slate and Aven, a reserved woman a few years older than us. She’s talented enough to hold a higher role than her Theta title, but she isn’t as dominant as other females like Cassia and Hazel. She’s a steady presence as we venture deeper into our territory.

Pine needles churn under my paws, my nails gouging the soil. My ears swivel to pick up the sounds of little creatures and even larger prey. The sense of freedom that comes from running as a wolf is intoxicating. It’s why I shift for my own short run every morning.

After a couple of hours, we head back toward our clearing, the day’s work done. I slow near the school building, spotting a familiar strawberry blonde head of hair.

Marigold stands in the doorway, smiling and chatting with Cedar. She laughs, throwing her head back. My muscles coil and I have to suppress a growl as she reveals a length of creamy neck and chest to another male.

I’ve been so stupid. Every one of my thoughts has been taken up by this woman, and she’s busy pining over someone else. I knew she had a crush on him, but it didn’t seem real when she was touching me, curled up on my sofa, resting her head on my shoulder.

Feeling sick, I lope toward the training building to shift back. Even after dressing, I’m still fighting the jealousy I never expected to feel over my friend and roommate .

MARIGOLD

The afternoon goes quickly. After lunch, my older students work around the pack, assisting adults with various jobs to gain experience. The remaining younger students are eager to finish math and earn some art time, and I’m happy to let them get out paints and paper.

Sitting beside Daisy, I doodle little cartoon wolves across a page while I praise the children around me. Their concentration is impressive as they build their own masterpieces.

After releasing my students for the day, I linger out in the meadow watching them play for a while. Honestly, I’m hoping to see Jasper come back from patrol.

Cedar steps out of the diner and heads toward his garden. “Hey, Marigold,” he says in passing.

“What are you up to?” I ask. His feet slow.

“My mom wants some rosemary and chives for dinner,” he answers. He grows all sorts of herbs and I love joining him in the pack garden.

“I’ll help you!”

“I don’t need help,” Cedar says, “but I’d enjoy the company.”

Beaming, I fall into step beside him. “Perfect.”

We pass through the archway and my hand brushes against the trailing vines. He heads down the central path without glancing back.

“I love this time of year,” I share, swinging my arms and enjoying the warmer weather .

“I do too. The transplants are all doing nicely. We’re starting to see more bugs.”

The walkway circles around the barrels that contain most of the herbs Cedar grows. Rosemary and mint overflow their containers, always trying to take over the rest of the garden.

He pulls a tiny pair of shears out of his pocket, making me smile at his quirky habits, and snips several sprigs. I take them from his hands, trying to be useful in some small way.

A lower, long garden bed with a protective screen arching over the top holds the delicate herbs. With practiced expertise, he harvests chives from among the thyme, oregano, and marjoram.

“Marigold, you smell like Jasper,” he states, standing to face me.

My fingers run along the collar of my dress uncomfortably. It’s such an unexpected accusation and his impartial tone gives nothing of his interpretation away.

“He and I hung out yesterday evening,” I answer, biting the inside of my cheek. It’s technically true. Hopefully, he’s satisfied and lets it go.

His dark eyes study me. “Are you dating him?”

A flush crawls up my neck. This is the exact assumption we wanted to avoid.

“Absolutely not. No.” I throw my hands up, almost launching the rosemary into the next garden bed. Whoops! Clutching the sprigs together, I cross my arms.

“So why do you smell like him?” he asks .

My mouth gapes open as my heart races. He isn’t buying my excuse. Repeating it will make me look like a liar. The best option is the truth.

“I’m temporarily staying in his second bedroom,” I explain.

“Interesting.” His face stays passive.

“Nothing is going on! I needed a space of my own and he has the room, and it’s been fun.” My hands wave to emphasize my point, and I have to gather the herbs together to avoid losing them.

“Cool,” he says. Apparently, that’s enough of an explanation for him because he heads back toward the diner without another word.

After delivering the herbs, we head toward the training building to meet up with the patrol that has returned.

“Are you guys busy?” Hazel asks. Cedar shrugs.

“Not really, what’s up?” I say.

Hazel glances behind her. Slate strolls across the meadow toward us, Onyx and Jasper beside him. “We were thinking about a short hike before dinner. It’s too nice out to waste. Do you want to join us?”

“Sure,” Cedar says.

“Yeah, sounds great.” I have to agree with her, it’s too lovely out to stay indoors. The trees smell fresh and green with new growth. Wildflowers have started to bloom.

“How was your day?” Slate asks Hazel. She swings their clasped hands as they walk. Adorable.

“Great,” she answers, smiling up at him like he is her moon and stars. I find myself sighing and looking toward Jasper. His clear turquoise eyes gaze ahead, framed in blonde lashes lit up with filtered sunlight.

We wander north-east toward an area with an incredible view. Slate loves this spot. The musty smell of decaying leaves and the crisp scent of pine resin sink into my lungs as we get further from our community and into the thicker forest.

Jasper slows to walk beside me

but stays silent. Our wrists brush and I lift my hands instinctively, clasping them together nervously.

“Did you have a good patrol?” I ask, making my voice cheery.

He nods, not looking at me. “Fine. How was the afternoon with your students?”

“Fine,” I say slowly, drawing the word out.

“And you had a good time with Cedar?” he says, his tone cold.

My smile melts into a scowl and I study his expression for more information. He looks irritated, but I can’t imagine why. “I guess. I helped him harvest some herbs for Clove. So we are getting her herb dinner rolls tonight if we’re lucky.”

He purses his lips, silent.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m good,” he says, finally looking at me. I search for hints of anger or hurt in his bright eyes, but he’s an enigma. I can tell he isn’t happy, but whatever he’s feeling is layered and he’s keeping it contained .

Slate asks a question I don’t catch, and Jasper speeds up to walk alongside his brother. Onyx takes his spot.

“Hey, Goldie,” he says, “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time the other day.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask. He’s always pulling some prank or joke, there’s no telling what he’s referencing.

“About you and Jasper. At the bonfire,” he says.

I shrug. “It’s nothing. I owed him an apology after I put my foot in my mouth. But it’s all good.”

“Cool, yeah,” Onyx says, his midnight blue eyes widening as he relaxes.

“Check out this view!” Hazel says, waving us forward. I stand beside her and Hazel drapes an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll never get tired of this.”

Being a new wolf, everything is still fresh for her. She reminds me why I love being in this pack. The sun is lowering on the horizon, but we still have an hour or two until it gets dark. The clouds skimming the distant peaks are tinted pink against the blue sky.

“Hazel, truth or dare?” Onyx asks. He settles on one of the boulders along the edge.

Hazel folds her arms, narrowing her eyes on him. “Truth.”

“Does Slate use your skincare products?” Onyx asks.

Hazel bursts into laughter, looking apologetically at her mate. “I cannot confirm or deny that this handsome man likes to use the same moisturizer as me.”

“It’s got SPF in it,” Slate says with a shrug.

“Knew it!” Onyx says, grinning.

“Okay, my turn,” Hazel says, wrinkling her nose as she surveys potential victims. “Marigold, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I say, placing my hands on my hips.

“Alright, I’d like you to try yodeling. I’ve always wondered if we could get a good echo up here.” Hazel grins wickedly.

Pressing my fingers to my eyelids, I shake my head. This is going to be so embarrassing, but a dare is a dare. Stepping closer to the edge, I suck in a deep breath and let out my best impression of a yodel. It’s so off-key, I sound more like a goose than a Swiss cow herder.

When I finish, everyone is laughing. A blush colors my cheeks, but I’m pleased my friends are entertained.

“That was amazing,” Hazel wheezes, squeezing my arm. It’s worth it to see her laugh.

“Okay, Marigold, what’s it going to be?” Onyx asks.

“Jasper,” I say, smirking. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” He stretches out his legs, a lazy confidence rolling off of him.

“What’s an embarrassing childhood story of yours?” I ask.

Jasper taps his fingers against his mouth while he considers his answer. “When I was five, I shot an arrow through my foot.”

“What?” Hazel asks, straightening .

Shrugging as if it’s nothing, he explains, “I was messing around with a crossbow. I’ve got a nasty scar from it.”

“Wow,” I say, wincing as I picture one of my 5-year-old students with a crossbow. No one in our pack would let a child near the weapons we store in the training building.

“Satisfied?” he asks, something uncaring in his tone.

I wrap my arms around myself and nod.

“Cedar, truth or dare?” Jasper asks.

“Truth,” Cedar says.

Jasper’s jaw ticks, and his gaze lingers on my face in a way that sours my stomach. “Do you have romantic feelings for Marigold?”

“What?” I squeak, whirling on him. “What is the matter with you?”

Cedar quirks half in his mouth in an apologetic smile. “I adore her, she’s like family. But nothing romantic.”

I want to sink into the dirt. My skin is flaming. The whole group shifts their weight uncomfortably. Gaze on the ground, I can’t bring myself to look at either Cedar or Jasper. His answer was casual enough, but everyone here knows what a loaded question that was. The back of my neck prickles.

“Cedar, it’s your turn,” Hazel prompts. I’m grateful we can move on, but my face is still burning.

Clearing his throat, Cedar says, “Slate, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Slate says with a bold grin .

“Jump into the creek,” Cedar says.

“No problem.” Slate’s off, heading toward a less steep incline until he can reach the riverbed. I don’t bother watching him strip and jump in. Onyx whoops and jogs after him. Hazel stands on the edge, shouting encouragement and Jasper joins her, though he keeps glancing back at me.

Cedar studies me, his dimple showing as he grimaces. “Did my answer bother you?”

“No!” I say way too brightly. “Of course not!”

“Alright,” he says slowly, as if he doesn’t believe me.

“It’s fine,” I say, holding his gaze to support my lie. The longer I stand here, the louder my blood rushes through my ears, until I’m in danger of swaying on my feet. “I’m not feeling great. I’m gonna head home. Can you let them know?” I ask with a wave toward Hazel.

“Bye, Marigold.” Cedar dips his head, his eyes flicking away from me.

Sucking in a breath and slowly exhaling, I turn my feet south, trying to resist breaking into a sprint on my way to Jasper’s cabin.

Jasper. Did he feel some measure of this embarrassment when I said essentially the same thing about him? It seemed like a good thing at the time.

But when Cedar said it, I felt so small, so disregarded. I guess being told you’re like family is only good when the person wants to be close to you in that way.

Of course, Jasper didn’t have a years-long infatuation with me, but if I caused him even a fraction of humiliation, I owe him an apology.