One
Red
“You only have a month before your mating ceremony,” Aunt Germaine says with a frown. “Are you sure you don’t want to try that diet I told you about?”
With a blush, I look down at my too-wide hips and curvy belly. I’m not fat. I keep telling myself that: I’m not fat. I’m curvy. I’m fluffy. I’m average. I’m not fat, though.
Still, I’m no wolf, and that’s obvious to anyone who looks at me.
I’m not like the other women in The Silent Canines.
No, the women here everything I’m not. They’re tall and lean. They’re athletic and muscular. They all have this long, thick hair and these thin, slender waists. They look exactly the way I don’t. Most of the time I don’t let it bother me, but today I’m questioning my appearance.
I’m questioning everything.
My fiancé, Nash, is now the Alpha of the pack. After killing my brother, he took his rightful place as the head of The Silent Canines and it’s his job to lead the group. Supposedly, I’ll be his helper and companion in his mission. Supposedly, I’ll be helping him guide his group.
Right now, though, the only thing I think I’m good for is being made fun of. It’s been an entire two weeks since Nash took over the pack and it’s been a very, very long two weeks. It’s very obvious to everyone that it’s my fault their esteemed leader, Jeffrey, is dead. None of them even liked him, yet somehow, I’m the Alpha-killer.
It’s also my fault the pack’s new leader, Nash, is unavailable to be mated to a wolf, as is tradition.
“Nash thinks I look fine,” I whisper, suddenly doubting my appearance. I don’t want to admit to Aunt Germaine that I need a diet. I don’t think I do. I’ve actually lost weight in the last few weeks due to stress, but I don’t bother telling her that. I still have a little bit of padding on my tummy. I still have a bit of a butt. No matter what I say, she’ll just compare me to the other wolf girls who are my age.
No matter what I say, I’m going to fall short.
“Nash thinks I’m fine the way I am,” I repeat. My voice wavers. Even I can hear the doubt as I speak.
“Well, if you say so, dear,” Aunt Germaine gives me another once-over, and I cringe. I turn back to the mirror and smooth over the thin red dress I’ll be wearing for my mating ceremony. The strapless gown looks more like a prom dress than a wedding dress to me, but I love it. It hugs my curves, making me look feminine and fragile.
I don’t look fat in the dress: I look lovely. I look soft. I look delicate.
What will Nash think when he sees me wearing this? What will he think when he strips it off me after the ceremony? It’s not white, but it’s bright and lovely and it’s everything I think the perfect gown should be. Paired with my red cloak and a pair of black heels, I’ll be unstoppable in this.
“Are you sure you’re okay with red?” Aunt Germaine asks. She’s nervous about mixing our cultures. I think she’s afraid I’m going to freak out if I don’t get to wear a white gown on my wedding day.
In a wolf pack, the bride never wears white. At least, this is what the other unmated females tell me. They’re the only ones who will even talk to me in the pack, but I have a feeling it’s because they’re hoping to find some information they can use against me.
“I’m okay with anything,” I say honestly. “What matters is that I’m marrying Nash.” That’s all that matters. I fully believe this, but I know others in the pack don’t feel the same way.
I hear all the whispers, all the questions, all the comments they make about me. None of them like the fact that I’m not a shifter. None of them like that I’m human or that I stole away one of the most attractive bachelors in the pack.
“It’s still a bit snug,” Aunt Germaine comments. “So if you decide you change your mind about that diet…”
She lets her voice trail off and I bite back my sudden tears. Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I’m overly sensitive about my weight, I know. I just really want my mating ceremony to be perfect and when people constantly tell me how huge I am, it’s hard not to believe it.
I know Aunt Germaine is disappointed that I don’t fit into the pack better. She supports my mating with Nash and is happy about our ceremony, but she’s still a wolf. She still expects me to blend in: not stand out. That’s what being a part of the pack is all about. It’s about being one unit.
And try as I might, the one thing I’ve never been good at is fitting in.
Not even when it comes to Nash.
With a sigh, I nod and slip out of the dress. I hang it back up in Aunt Germaine’s suite, then look at myself in the mirror. Maybe I should try her tried-and-true diet. It couldn’t hurt. Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe I do look a little bloated.
Damn.
“Okay,” I whisper, realizing it’s time I just gave in. “I’ll go on the diet.”
“Wonderful!” Aunt Germaine sounds instantly cheered. “Nash will be so happy when he sees you in the dress. Now, here’s the recipe for the mush you’ll be having,” she hands me a card that was conveniently ready in her pocket. It reminds me of one of my grandmother’s recipe cards she used to keep in a little box in her kitchen. Only those cards always had the ingredients for things like apple pie and brownies. When I look at the ingredients on Aunt Germaine’s recipe card, I can’t help but cringe.
It’s mostly a weird porridge mixture with zero sugar, zero meat, and zero fruit.
In other words, I’ll be starving myself until the damn wedding.
Perfect.
***
Nash returns from the hunt tired. I can already tell we won’t be having sex because he looks so damn exhausted. He’s naked when he arrives in our suite close to midnight, and I can’t help but eyeing the hard lines of his body. Yeah, I like what I’m seeing.