was quite the romantic tableau—everyone blissfully coupled off—but Moira’s gaze skimmed over it, drawn irresistibly to the hulking shadow looming behind it all.
Greg and Roman were both well over six feet, but Hugo towered over both of them. A mountainous bear of a man—which she supposed was fitting for a bear shifter, though Moira also took the shape of a powerful grizzly and her human form was about as bear-like as a bunny. But Hugo looked like a bear. Even his deep, rumbling voice was bear-like. A dark brown beard, just beginning to go to gray only added to his rugged appeal.
Hugo. The Alpha’s best friend and most trusted advisor.
Hugo. Who had loved the Alpha’s wife in silence for as long as Moira had known him.
Hugo. Who would have been a dead ringer for Paul Bunyan if he’d ever worn a flannel shirt.
And Hugo. Who always looked at Moira with the flushed awkwardness of guilt after that one night.
The lynx shifter seated on Moira’s left leaned over to comment on how romantic it all was—Roman and Lila both deciding to marry for love rather than duty—and Moira realized the meeting was starting to break up. She smiled and murmured something agreeable, barely aware of her own words.
For love rather than duty.
Lucienne and Greg had married for duty. They seemed to have a powerful respect for one another, but Moira didn’t think she’d ever seen either one of them look at the other the way Roman looked at Patch.
Would Hugo be free to look at Lucienne that way now? He’d always been so careful to hide his emotions. Moira never would have suspected the truth if he hadn’t told her—back on that stupid, stupid night. But he and Lucienne wouldn’t have to hide anymore. Perhaps they would wait a month or two, give the transition time to stabilize before Lucienne left Greg for Hugo, or they would begin with a very discreet affair, but the future was all but inevitable now. Hugo’s one true love was finally free.
“Moira? Are you growling?”
She whipped around to regard Brandt, cutting off the growl that was indeed rumbling in her throat. “A tickle in my throat,” she said, taking care not to rush the words and give away the lie. “I hope I’m not coming down with something.”
“Cold season,” Brandt muttered direly. Shifters were immune to most human-borne illnesses, but no one escaped the common cold. And the more fearsome the beast, it seemed the bigger baby they were when they got the sniffles.
Hugo would probably be the worst of all.
Not that she cared what he was like or who would be bringing him chicken soup. She’d long since given up on the idea of any sort of future with the big dumb bear—so why did this feel like the death knell of her hopes? Drat it all, she wasn’t supposed to have those hopes anymore. She’d excised them years ago.
“You should get some extra rest. Take care of yourself,” Brandt said as they rose and began shuffling toward the exits with the rest of the pride. “I’ll hold down the fort at the infirmary tonight. I need you in top shape, Moira, my girl. Wouldn’t want the powers that be to figure out how useless I am without you.”
She forced herself to smile at his teasing. Dr. Brandt was a flirt and a bit of a playboy, but he was a good friend, a great doctor, and he’d always respected her skills as a shifter healer, even when she’d first arrived at Lone Pine and hadn’t had any proper medical schooling to her name. Now she could lay claim to a nursing degree, but she was still more focused on midwifery and the more holistic side of shifter treatment. There were so many things about their physiology that bordered on magic, it was hard for her to take a purely scientific view. Any woman who could shape shift from a hundred-and-forty-pound woman to a six-hundred-pound bear had to have an appreciation for the inexplicable and mystical.
She was tempted to refuse Brandt’s offer to cover her shift at the infirmary. Throwing herself into
Greg and Roman were both well over six feet, but Hugo towered over both of them. A mountainous bear of a man—which she supposed was fitting for a bear shifter, though Moira also took the shape of a powerful grizzly and her human form was about as bear-like as a bunny. But Hugo looked like a bear. Even his deep, rumbling voice was bear-like. A dark brown beard, just beginning to go to gray only added to his rugged appeal.
Hugo. The Alpha’s best friend and most trusted advisor.
Hugo. Who had loved the Alpha’s wife in silence for as long as Moira had known him.
Hugo. Who would have been a dead ringer for Paul Bunyan if he’d ever worn a flannel shirt.
And Hugo. Who always looked at Moira with the flushed awkwardness of guilt after that one night.
The lynx shifter seated on Moira’s left leaned over to comment on how romantic it all was—Roman and Lila both deciding to marry for love rather than duty—and Moira realized the meeting was starting to break up. She smiled and murmured something agreeable, barely aware of her own words.
For love rather than duty.
Lucienne and Greg had married for duty. They seemed to have a powerful respect for one another, but Moira didn’t think she’d ever seen either one of them look at the other the way Roman looked at Patch.
Would Hugo be free to look at Lucienne that way now? He’d always been so careful to hide his emotions. Moira never would have suspected the truth if he hadn’t told her—back on that stupid, stupid night. But he and Lucienne wouldn’t have to hide anymore. Perhaps they would wait a month or two, give the transition time to stabilize before Lucienne left Greg for Hugo, or they would begin with a very discreet affair, but the future was all but inevitable now. Hugo’s one true love was finally free.
“Moira? Are you growling?”
She whipped around to regard Brandt, cutting off the growl that was indeed rumbling in her throat. “A tickle in my throat,” she said, taking care not to rush the words and give away the lie. “I hope I’m not coming down with something.”
“Cold season,” Brandt muttered direly. Shifters were immune to most human-borne illnesses, but no one escaped the common cold. And the more fearsome the beast, it seemed the bigger baby they were when they got the sniffles.
Hugo would probably be the worst of all.
Not that she cared what he was like or who would be bringing him chicken soup. She’d long since given up on the idea of any sort of future with the big dumb bear—so why did this feel like the death knell of her hopes? Drat it all, she wasn’t supposed to have those hopes anymore. She’d excised them years ago.
“You should get some extra rest. Take care of yourself,” Brandt said as they rose and began shuffling toward the exits with the rest of the pride. “I’ll hold down the fort at the infirmary tonight. I need you in top shape, Moira, my girl. Wouldn’t want the powers that be to figure out how useless I am without you.”
She forced herself to smile at his teasing. Dr. Brandt was a flirt and a bit of a playboy, but he was a good friend, a great doctor, and he’d always respected her skills as a shifter healer, even when she’d first arrived at Lone Pine and hadn’t had any proper medical schooling to her name. Now she could lay claim to a nursing degree, but she was still more focused on midwifery and the more holistic side of shifter treatment. There were so many things about their physiology that bordered on magic, it was hard for her to take a purely scientific view. Any woman who could shape shift from a hundred-and-forty-pound woman to a six-hundred-pound bear had to have an appreciation for the inexplicable and mystical.
She was tempted to refuse Brandt’s offer to cover her shift at the infirmary. Throwing herself into
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