The Shrewd Wolves (H&HP Series #3)

Chapter 43

Duncan placed the magazine on the table and pushed it towards me.

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open when I looked at the cover. Duncan and Sel laughed out loud when they saw my reaction.

There, in the cover page of that weekly magazine was a photo of Quillon and mine wolf, with the title: THE MATING SEASON IS HERE.

The photo was taken by that stupid photographer the morning after Quinn's birthday. I was sleeping, on the ground with Quillon atop me. The position in the photo was totally misleading, if you get my drift!

"THE FUCK!" I shouted in outrage and Sel stopped laughing but Duncan went on like a hyena. "THE FUCK IS THIS? HOW DID HE GET TO PUBLISH THIS?" I demanded. This was one of the popular magazines of the country. Anybody could figure out it is Quillon and me in it because we have the rare wolf color.

"Mama, Daroo said fuck! But you said there is no such word" Lorcan complained while Sel glared at me.

"MATING SEASON? IS HE FU—"

"Darya" Sel snapped.

"FU-FU-FA—"

"Freaking" Duncan supplied coolly.

"FREAKING KIDDING ME?!" I all but roared, clenching my fists. "How dare that bonehead publish this? And that too with that title" I snarled shooting daggers at the title written in bold white letters. "What is his name? I am going to kill him" I growled flipping pages and found the article in the 22nd page of the magazine. There was another photo of us, looking at each other's eyes.

I remember that moment. I can't believe that fucker had captured that too. It was a five page article with photos of four other different species of animals, all in more compromising position than us.

"Patrick Liebmann" I read the name through clenched teeth. "You are a dead meat" I hissed and walked out of the house holding the magazine in a tight grip.

__

The photo had gone viral in the werewolf world.

Two days had passed, yet I couldn't walk anywhere with my head raised. Everyone from the pack would flash a teasing grin at me and I would turn scarlet to the roots of my hair. It was good thing I didn't have my own phone because then, I would have to deal with the calls from others.

I found that photographer but I could do nothing to him. Honestly, what could I do without arousing his suspicion?

Right now, I was beating a weed, in frustration, with my hoe. I wonder how Quillon is going to react to this. Then again, nothing embarrasses him and if anyone even dared to smile he would have given them a death glare.

He is the reason the photo was taken in the first place. If he hadn't marked me, I wouldn't have run into the woods. Everything is his fault!

I am miserable because of him. Am I so bad that I do not deserve the love of my own mate? Emotionless bastard!

He didn't utter a single word to contradict my decision. Then again, why would he? If he loved me, he would have but nooo... the word love makes him sick! As if, I am a big fan of that word.

Gritting my teeth, I attacked the weed thinking it to be Quillon. I felt considerably better when I blamed him.

"It's dead" Nancy commented while walking past me. I looked at the weed and realized that was true.

While I was beating another weed to its death, I felt my wolf tensing up all of a sudden. She stood up and raising her ears, started sniffing the air around us. I frowned because I couldn't catch any unfamiliar scent.