Free Bayou Blues by Sierra Dean Page A

First thing, whether or not I’m attracted to someone shouldn’t matter to you. Period.” But, oh God, had Wilder known? Was it that obvious? Focus, Genie . “Second, if I ever hear you tell me to wait for my soul-bond again, I’m going to throw up. They’re not exactly common, and what’s more, I have a boyfriend.”
    “The human?” He snorted.
    “Wow. You’re really trying to insult me in every way possible today, aren’t you? You’ve never met Cash, so don’t give me that attitude.”
    “I don’t need to meet him. He’s human. You’re not marrying a human.”
    “ You don’t get to decide that ,” I snapped, my voice lilting higher than I’d expected it to. “You’re not my king. You’re my brother. And even if you were the King of the South, it’s not up to you to decide who I marry. Human, mechanic or otherwise.”
    Ben looked stunned by my outburst. I guess he’d been expecting me to nod and accept his ruling like everyone else in the pack had learned to do. But he wasn’t the only one who had changed while I was gone.
    “Are you really thinking of marrying the human?” He seemed surprised by this, and his expression was somewhere between pain and panic.
    “I’m twenty-one, you idiot. I’m not thinking about anything beyond my finals and getting this whole Church of Madmen situation sorted out. Marriage isn’t part of my five-year plan at the moment.”
    Ben’s relief was nakedly obvious. Did he think I had run off to Tulane to hunt down a husband? That was beyond insulting. This wasn’t 1952.
    “Good.”
    “But if I did marry Cash, I’d expect you to come to my wedding, shake his hand and be nice to his entire family. Understood?”
    He nodded vaguely, because now that he knew it wasn’t in the cards, he didn’t have to keep any of his promises for the time being. And honestly it was becoming less and less likely Cash and I would make it to a wedding if we couldn’t even get past a full year without our problems coming between us.
    “About Wilder, though…” he started again.
    Damn, just when I thought I’d escaped this extra-humiliating topic where my brother reminded me he could smell my attraction. Gross.
    I sighed. “I’m going to yell again. Do you want me to yell again?”
    He put a hand on my shoulder, and I didn’t pull away. Skin to skin, I felt our connection like a physical tether. Touch was soothing between werewolves, especially those of the same pack. For Ben and me it was extra effective because we’d been soothing each other by touch since before we were born.
    I softened, willing myself to listen. After all, he might have a good reason to not like the younger Shaw brother, and I should hear him out if he thought it was important. I might not agree with whatever he was about to say, but I owed it to Ben to listen.
    “I get the feeling you guys aren’t on the friendliest of terms,” I said, hoping it would get him to the point faster.
    “You missed a lot while you were in the swamp.” From the firm set of his jaw I could tell he was gritting his teeth.
    “What’s the deal with him anyway? He can’t have been with the pack long if he came and went while I was away.” It must have been during the four years I was gone, but that was a short period of time for a wolf to stay with the pack. All the other wolves near our age had grown up with us, and I would have remembered Wilder. Hank had been with the pack even when I was a child, but not Wilder.
    Seeming to understand why I was doubtful, Ben said, “Their family split them up when they were younger. Hank was the problem. I guess they figured being close to the king might straighten him out, which is why Hank was here when we were kids. It turned out Wilder had alpha traits, so he went to live in Shreveport with extended family. But about a year after you left, he came back. I don’t know all the details. I think Callum was hoping Hank would feel less ostracized with family around, or maybe Wilder