Chapter 117

Asher’s POV

I shoved food into my mouth with one hand while carefully loading more than half of it onto a separate plate—Melanie’s wolf’s plate, to be precise. Because nothing says “I come in peace” like sharing your burrito half with a snarling lupine that could shred your throat—no offense, Mick’s dad. I slipped the plate to the floor and backed into the bathroom for a quick shower, conscious of a pair of glowing yellow eyes waiting just outside the curtain. I swear, she was judging my shampoo choice.

Lather, rinse, repeat, and a silent pep talk: “You got this, you almost-alpha.” Wrapping my mind around the fact that I was sharing a house—and apparently a literal wolf pack—with my newly discovered mate, her mate, and her toddler was slower than a hungover Saturday morning. But every passing minute felt slightly less like I’d accidentally tripped into a Lifetime special.

The hardest part? I couldn’t actually speak to Melanie. My human Melanie. She hovered b