BROOKLYNN
The look on his face is almost comical. He is making it out like I asked him to start chowing down on my leg. But at the same time, I can see the war raging on his face. Or, in his head I suppose. Since that is where his wolf lives. Kind of.
I get now why he struggled to explain it. My own brain can hardly wrap around the idea of any of this.
“Umm… I don’t think that is a good idea,” he hedges; white teeth tearing at his upper lip. I scowl at him, and no, it has nothing to do with his assault on those perfect lips.
“If he is technically separate from you, but still my, uh, mate, then I need to meet him too. I need to get to know both parts of you to understand.”
“No, Bee. It’s really not smart right now.”
“Aaron,” I groan. “Come on! Please?”
“You’re laying those puppy
