Blake
Paying attention in the meeting was an effort, and I was failing. I was spinning a glass paperweight on the table, my mind flooded with images of my naked wife.
I wanted to go back to her, inhale her scent but most importantly, make her mark me. Why wasn’t she marking me? Her hesitation was unsettling. So what if we were chosen mates? I saw every other pair of chosen mates marking each other.
I had bared my neck so many times to her, but she would simply graze it at most and leave me hanging. Damn it! Her marking me was important in the power play in my kingdom. If the king’s mate didn’t mark him, then he would lose credibility. There were hundreds of she-wolves who would jump at the opportunity to mark me, but my Maeve—I took a ragged breath in. Perhaps she was repulsed by me? I
