Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 19987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
“I don’t know.” I shrugged and gulped down about half my beer. “I’m happy for our pack mates, but some days, it’s hard to see how in love some of them are, knowing that it’s never going to happen for me.”
Cason guzzled the rest of his drink, slammed the can on the table, and crushed it with his fist. “Never is a long time. Maybe you’ll be one of the lucky ones.”
“Not fucking likely,” I muttered before finishing my beer and heading over to the fridge to grab two more.
Cason flashed me a smile when I handed him one of the cans. “Yeah, I’m having a hard time believing that I’m going to end up mated anytime soon.”
“Or ever,” I sighed as I dropped onto my chair.
“I’m trying not to let my pessimism reach quite that level yet.” My brother’s shoulders slumped. “But I’m not doing a great job at it.”
“I’m the last person who can judge you for being a cynic when it comes to finding a mate. It’s not as though my odds are any better than yours.” My wolf huffed inside my head as though he thought his human counterpart was an idiot.
“That fucking curse,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Our family has paid more than enough for whatever bad luck they earned way back when.”
“Damn fucking straight,” I agreed. “It pisses me the fuck off that Aaron is going to suffer for the rest of his life when he’s never done shit to hurt anyone.”
Cason leaned back in his seat and stared up at the ceiling. “Do you think he’ll ever come back?”
“Fuck, I hope so.” I scrubbed my hands over my face and sighed, shaking my head. My gut told me that the odds of Aaron returning to Timber Ridge were slim to none. As much as I missed my brother, I didn’t blame him for leaving. Living the rest of his life without his fated mate was tough enough, so spending time in the place where he had been rejected would be like a knife to the gut every day.
“Yeah, neither do I.” Cason sat up, guzzled his beer, and crushed the can with his fist. He tapped the top of the carving I had been working on. “What’s this?”
“It’s going to be a tiger.” For some odd reason, my wolf was feeling territorial over the piece. When I felt his fur brush against the inside of my skin, I snagged the chunk of wood off the table and clutched it in my fist.
“Relax, dude. I’m not going to steal a half-finished carving.” Cason held his hands up, palms facing me. “Are you making it for Tane or one of his pups?”
That was a good guess since I often gave my finished pieces to members of our pack. Usually when I started a new carving, I had someone specific in mind. Not this time, though. I’d planned on a completely different design, but once I’d gotten my hands on that chunk of basswood, it had felt as though each stroke of my blade along the wood was guided by my wolf. The sentiment was strange as fuck, considering my inner animal had never been interested in my hobby. But the tiger I was whittling sure as hell had his attention. “Nope, I think I’m going to keep this one.”
My brother’s head jerked up, and his eyes widened. “Really?”
His surprise was understandable since I’d given away every single carving I’d made over the years. I whittled because it relaxed me, not for any emotional attachment to my pieces. Once they were done, I was ready to hand them off and get to work on something new. But not this time. The thought of anyone other than me owning the tiger I was creating pissed me the fuck off. “Yup.”
“Huh.” He craned his neck, trying to get a better look at the carving clenched in my fist. “That doesn’t sound like you at all. Why are you keeping that one?”
“Because I want it.” I didn’t have a better answer for him since I didn’t have a clue what was different about this piece.
Cason quirked a brow before standing up and walking over to the trash can to toss out the cans he had crushed. “Alrighty then. Now that you’ve cleared that up for me, I guess I’ll leave you to your whittling. Maybe you’ll be a little less touchy about your carving once it’s done.”
“Sorry,” I grumbled, loosening my hold on the partially completed tiger to set it on the table. Now that my brother wasn’t sitting across from me, my wolf relaxed a little over his proximity to the carving. I needed to get the damn thing done soon, and then maybe I could figure out why it was so fucking different from all the other pieces I’d done.