“Just so you know, I’m allergic to strawberries.”
She must have been reading his mind, because he’d been frantically trying to think of a way to make the traditional mating offering of berries.
“I’ve never heard of a werewolf with food allergies.” He was an EMT. The only thing lycans were allergic to was alcohol, and even then the reaction wasn’t an allergy in the sapien sense. The homo lupus couldn’t consume a lot of things sapiens considered normal. Chocolate. Grapes in any form. Artificial sweeteners were deadly. You’d never find a millennial werewolf because avocado toast was poison. But none of these were allergies.
He had a mate. He needed to focus on what was important instead of being distracted by the trivial.
He needed to take Phoebe to Ethan’s house, where he’d better be able to treat her wound and access Selena’s stock herbal remedies. There was even a bed where he could do the deed.
He couldn’t think of a single reason not to mark Phoebe right away. Berries. Right. Not strawberries.
He jammed the key into the ignition and twisted. “Anything else I should know?”
BESIEGED BY THE MOON
Tentatively scheduled for February 2020