25

H ow am I supposed to focus on hockey, or anything else for that matter, ever again?

All I want to do is run to my mate and hold her; I want to learn everything about her that Slate wasn't able to dig up. Hell, just listen to her speak.

Walking into this team meeting is the second-to-last thing I want to be doing. The last thing I want to do is go to the two away games we have and be that far away from her.

I'm glad she took the text well and didn't even question where I got her number. That's a conversation for a later date. It's not that I won't tell her; I'll tell her everything. Just not yet. I don't want her to freak out and run. I'll tell her everything after she falls in love with me.

The information from Slate was helpful, though. I didn't actually read the information specifically about her because I really would like to learn that stuff from her. I mostly read up on her parents. They were some of the best photojournalists the world has ever seen. They received countless awards for their work throughout the years, and after looking at some of it myself, I'd have to agree. The shots they captured were breathtaking. There were even a couple cute pictures of her with them on their assignments. What a way to grow up—traveling the world and seeing animals and things most people only dream of.

But who were they really? Were they wolves? If not, how did they end up with a werewolf as a daughter? Slate still hasn't been able to locate any records of her birth. She just appeared. No birth records. No adoption records. Nothing. Digging deeper, we couldn't find the records for her parents either. It gets weirder. At least Leera has medical records. They don't. Not one. Ever.

Shaking my head, I don't have time to dwell further, though, because it's time for the team meeting.

After hours of listening to Coach drone on about plays we all know like the back of our hands and how every game counts if we want to make it to the playoffs this year, we're finally out of there. Perfect timing too. I have an hour and a half to get cleaned up and ready for a digital date with my little lady.

Unfortunately, I'm so lost in thought that I don't even notice India standing in basically a battle stance waiting for me outside the arena. I turn to glare at Benny when he pipes up, t hat will teach you to keep your walls up. I tried to tell you. I can hear the smug smirk on his face right now and I have half a mind to smack it off.

"Leave India," I say, my voice leaving little room for argument. She falters for just a moment before regaining her I'm-gonna-throw-a-bitch-fit posture.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on! I thought we were finally making progress and now you're using the goon squad to avoid me. That's not going to work for me, Roman. I will be your queen so it's time you get used to me," she finishes strong but when she sees the look on my face her facade slips again.

"I'm not having this discussion right now, and I'm sure as fuck not having it here," I say, baring my teeth and trudging past her to our SUV.

All my men pile into the vehicle and just sit in silence. "Out with it." I snap as I turn the car on. "I know at least one of you dicks has something to say. Go ahead and spit it out."

Andrei is the one who speaks up, "Wouldn't it be easier just to tell her about Leera? Tell her that she won't be anyone's queen? I'd love to watch it knock her off that fucking pedestal."

"I thought about it, but no, I don't think so. I don't trust India. I also don't want it to get back to my father yet, since they're apparently buddies now. And this whole business with the King . . ." Scrubbing one hand down my face and steering the SUV with the other.

"I want Leera to be comfortable and secure before we do anything to taint it."

"And what if the King no longer chooses you without India? Or vice versa, he still wants you to be king, making Leera a queen?" Slate asks, always two steps ahead of everyone.

I sigh and feign at the thought, but I already know the answer without a shadow of a doubt, "I can only hope the King can see what the result would be with India as the queen, with or without a king. As far as Leera and I, if that's in the cards we'll address it at that time, and if she doesn't wish to rule, then they'll have to figure it out. Leera is my life now. Before everything. I'll follow her wherever she needs or wants to go. I know we haven't really gotten to talk about it, so I understand if you all can't do that, but I won't live a moment doing anything other than making her happy."

Eris gags and Dolos joins in, "We don't want a mate if this is what it does to us." They joke at my sincerity, but we all know that's a lie.

With the longevity of our lives, every werewolf's sole purpose is to find their mate. Without them, they will always feel a level of emptiness. Once that emptiness has been filled, it usually kills us if it's lost. It almost killed me. And when it didn't, I nearly finished the job. I would have without these men. I'm even more thankful for them now that I have her. If I had given it all up then, I wouldn't have this chance now.

Without hesitation, Benny speaks up, "Wherever you go, I go, Boss. Always." And I know he means it. We've been together for almost three-quarters of a millennium. I can't even begin to imagine a life where he's not here.

The rest of the men somber themselves and nod in agreement. Always. They all announce themselves as one. Because though we are six very different men, we are a unit—a family. I can't wait to add our Luna to the mix.

We drive the rest of the way home in comfortable silence.

As we all pile out of the SUV, everyone makes their way to the elevators up to the main floor. I'm still grabbing my things out of the car when Andrei comes around the back.

"Roman, I want you to know that even though I haven't been around as long as the rest of the men, you have my full respect and loyalty. You are my Alpha, and I will stay by your side for as long as you'll allow." I think he's done, but he continues, "and for what it's worth, I think you'll make a great king." Before I can respond, he's walking away.

Replaying the interaction through my mind, it feels like he knows something that I don't know, but I shake it off as my irritation with recent events have been making me read too far into things.

It's three-thirty and I'm trying to decide what proper etiquette is for a texting date.

Can I text her a few minutes early, or do I wait until four o'clock on the dot?

Is it okay to stay in my lounge clothes, or should I put on presentable clothes just in case?

Part of me wants to ask her to dinner, but I don't want to push her. ARG why does this have to be so complicated?! If she was raised knowing she was a werewolf, all this mate stuff would be so much easier. You acknowledge your mate, spend pretty much all your time together, seal the mate bond and live happily ever after, or at least that's how it's told to young wolves who have never felt the pain of losing their mate.

It's not that I ever truly stopped thinking of Imogen, but she's been on my mind more often lately. I know they share a soul but sometimes my conscience eats at me, and I feel like I'm betraying her. Betraying her memory. Betraying what we had. I have to remind myself that the Goddess is giving her back to me for a reason, and I will not squander this rare opportunity.

I've been trying my best not to compare them, but that's also becoming more difficult. Their features are similar in the way they look soft and are too kind for the world we live in. Imogen was all dark colors, though, while Leera is lighter. Imogen had brown hair and brown eyes. Leera's hair is silver, and she has blue eyes. They seem to share a love for flowers, though, so I'm already well versed in the world of horticulture.

With only a few minutes to spare, I decide I'd rather be early.

The immediate texting bubbles lift my spirits even higher. She was waiting for me.

Shit. I didn't think this through.

At least she thinks I look good. I chuckle to myself. Maybe this won't be so bad.

That's easy, it used to be maroon but now it's . . .