Free Fighting for Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 3) by Roxie Noir Page B

stayed awake long past then in her apartment, tidying up the mess the police had left, especially in the kitchen.
    She could tell that they’d tried to put things back where they belonged, but she could also tell that if Rustvale had female police officers, they hadn’t been the ones to search her apartment. Nothing was put back quite right: photos hung a little crooked on the wall, towels were messy in her linen closet, throw pillows were tossed onto her couch haphazardly.  
    There was nothing missing, not even anything ruined, but her whole place had a pervading sense of wrong about it. Someone had touched almost everything in her home, had invaded her space. Violated her in this small, non-bodily way, and she didn’t like it.
    Before she went to bed, she changed her sheets, then lay on top of them for hours, thinking.
    One, about Nicky. She’d found a dead body and done the right thing, and someone was trying to pin a murder on her for it. She didn’t think she could blame the Rustvale Police for being careful, but keeping her in that cell? Going through all of her things? That seemed like overkill.
    Two, Isaac.
    Three, Dane.
    Really, they fell under the same number, being mates and all. Grey wasn’t really sure about the whole triad thing. Her parents were human, she’d grown up around humans, and having two husbands or boyfriends just seemed... well, it seemed strange. What if she liked one more than the other? What if they liked each other more than they liked her? After all, they’d already been together for years, and there was no substitute for that kind of thing.
    But on the other hand, they made her feel funny in a way that no one ever had before. Not her first real boyfriend in high school, not the poet she’d dated for most of college who’d written sonnets for her, not the guitar-playing guy with long hair whose shows she’d gone to in the years after college.
    It was weird, the way the mated pair made her feel: buzzy on the inside, but also safe , totally protected. She had no idea what to make of it.
    And then, her alarm woke her up so suddenly that for a moment, she couldn’t even remember where she was.
    Right, she thought, looking at the still-dark sky through her windows. On top of all that, I get to wrangle a bunch of five-year-olds.
    She took one more moment in her comfy, cozy bed, and then got up for the day ahead.

    For once, the kids seemed to sense that she’d had a rough day and went easy on her. During storytime,   no one wriggled around or talked over her or hit anyone else. During recess, no one pulled anyone else’s hair. During naptime, all twenty of them laid down and were totally quiet.
    Maybe I should get arrested more often , she thought, sitting at her desk and watching them. Even Evan and Lily are either asleep or, at the very least, quiet.
    Evan and Lily are never asleep or quiet.
    Maybe they’re sick or something .
    Grey nearly fell asleep herself.
    At one-thirty, she walked her class in a line to P.E., and then headed back to her classroom for a rare half-hour of blissful, sweet silence. Normally, she’d use that time to catch up on looking over their work or writing reports home for the kids, but today she was seriously considering a nap.
    As Grey passed the principal’s office, a familiar head popped out: Principal Keen.
    “Miss Macauley,” she said. “Got a minute?”
    It wasn’t as if Grey had a choice, so she followed her boss past a hallway filled with kids’ posters and into the office, where Principal Keen closed the door behind them.
    Grey felt her nerves jangle with adrenaline. She’d had about five cups of coffee that day, which wasn’t currently helping her stay calm.
    The principal sat behind her desk and gestured at the chair opposite it. Grey gathered her skirt and sat, folding her hands neatly in front of herself.
    Just don’t look like a degenerate , she thought.
    “How is everything going?” the principal asked. It was obviously a loaded