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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Morgan Lore - 20. Chapter 20

Please, can’t you help me hold on to this?

Dinner in the Takeda house was at seven o’clock. The time never changed, unless Marie was occupied, or the family was otherwise occupied. It was only around six thirty when Milan took the bag Rory brought in to his room with him. The bag held the cookies and herbs from Jet’s farm. He had forgotten about them.

He paused at the second floor to make sure his parents were still locked in the master bedroom together. He couldn’t hear them talking, so that was a relief. It was not that hard to tell when Ilaria and Kiyo were fighting. Ilaria loved to throw things and yell in Italian. The silence meant the fighting had ended while he slept, or it hadn’t happened at all. Then again, after the thing at the gate, maybe he didn’t know his parents very well.

Ayu seemed to have disappeared. Milan hoped his big brother had found some place to call his in this cold town.

Entering the kitchen, Milan smiled at Marie who was placing potpie on the counter.

Cucciolo, you’re awake. Mamma will be happy. What do you have there?”

“Cookies and,” Milan said, handing them to Marie. “Fresh herbs from this farm Rory took me to visit today. I made a friend there. His name is Jet and he gave me the fresh herbs for you.”

“Aww,” Marie took the bag from him and kissed the top of his head. “Thank Jet for me when you talk next.”

Marie brought the herbs to her nose and took a deep whiff. “So fresh. I’ll test the herbs see if we can get more from them. As for the cookies, I hope you didn’t eat any.”

Milan grimaced.

“They were fresh baked at the time. I almost went out of my mind smelling them.”

Milan sighed, looking at the chocolate chip cookies with envy when Marie took a bite.

“The taste is good, I can do better. I’ll mix a batch for you. You can have two tonight, the rest we’ll put in your lunch box tomorrow,” Marie said.

Milan walked up to her and pulled her into a tight hug. He didn’t have words to express how much she meant to him.

“It’s okay,” Marie said, rubbing his back. “I love you too, little puppy.”

Milan nodded and let her go, wiping his eyes and turning away from her.

“I don’t want to eat with everyone today,” Milan said.

“Still mad at your Papa?” Marie asked.

“He is being unreasonable. Don’t try to talk for him. I’m allowed to get mad,” Milan said, reaching for a tray. He needed to get enough food for him and Rory.

“Fine, I’m not talking for him,” Marie said, watching him place a large plate on the tray, and two bowls.

He cut three large slices from the potpie closest to him. He ladled pea soup into one bowl and scooped the mix of broccoli and cauliflower stir-fry into the second bowl. When he reached for the dinner rolls Marie leaned on the counter next to him.

“Planning on stashing food for the siege?”

“I want to eat enough today. I didn’t have anything all day,” Milan said, covering the plate. He placed the tray on a breakfast table with fold-able legs.

“Well.” Marie brought four bananas, placing them on top of the plate cover. She took two spoons from the drawer and placed them on the tray too. “I hope you and the horse you are feeding this night can fit in fruits beside the potpie. Bananas are less messy. Bring the tray downstairs when you are done.”

Rory was sort of like a horse. He seemed like a guy who could burn that much fuel. Maybe that’s why he was so strong. Milan touched a dinner scone and smiled at that thought.

Fate was strange. It had brought the strongest possible to him, the weakest possible.

Milan turned to Marie, guilt flooding him at the look in Marie’s eyes. She looked as though she knew that Rory was upstairs in his bedroom. For a moment, he wondered if she would tell his parents, but then—

Cucciolo, go have your dinner,” Marie waved him away. “Can you carry the tray or do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” Milan said, taking the tray and heading out.

Marie chuckled as he left and he bit his lip, hoping she didn’t mention the possibility of a hidden horse in his room to his volatile father.

Upstairs, Rory opened the bedroom door for him and took the tray out of his hands before he could take a step in. Milan closed and locked his bedroom door, watching Rory place the tray on the floor. Rory got two pillows and placed them on the floor on opposite sides of the little table the bed tray made.

Rory waved him over and Milan smiled, hurrying to join him. Rory waited for him to settle before he sat opposite him.

“The food smells good,” Rory said, picking up his spoon. “I can see why you would want to marry Marie.”

Milan chuckled.

“How do you know about that?”

“Ayu told me,” Rory said, taking a bite of his chicken potpie. His gaze studying his plate with intense interest.

Milan watched him eat in silence for a minute before he chuckled.

“Are you jealous of Marie?”

“You like hugging her,” Rory said. “I’ve seen it, more than once.”

“She’s older than my mother, and I just hugged you. I kiss you too.” Milan frowned. “Why would you think I like her that way?”

“Don’t you?”

Milan picked up his spoon and shook his head.

“If we’re going to discuss irrational ideas, let’s talk you and Rowen.”

“Me and Rowen.” Rory blinked, dropping his spoon in his pot pie. “What gave you that idea? I have never touched or looked at Rowen in that way.”

Milan broke a piece of his scone and sunk it into his bowl of soup. He spooned the soggy mess into his mouth and stared at Rory.

“Seriously, Milan. You have to believe me.”

“She approached me in the cafeteria that first day.” Milan narrowed his gaze at Rory. “She told me I was going to bring you trouble. She’s super hot with an insane attitude and she wants you. Are you saying you’ve never looked at her and wanted her?”

“Never.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s with the hmm?” Rory frowned. “What are you thinking right now?”

“Nothing.”

“Milan.”

Milan put his spoon down and looked at Rory.

“I know I’m kind of nuts, but I’m surprised that you don’t want her and see me instead. I keep thinking you’ll come to your senses and walk away from me.”

Rory got up then, and moved to sit next to Milan. When Rory took his hands, Milan shifted so that he faced Rory.

“You are the moonlight to me.”

Milan chuckled, meeting Rory’s gaze.

“You don’t have to say cheesy things to me, Rory.”

“It’s the truth,” Rory insisted, his gaze enough to make Milan pause. “I feel like I’ve waited for you all my life. Now that you’re here, I’m afraid you won’t be able to handle all that I feel for you. That it might scare you off.”

Milan took in a short breath, taken aback by Rory’s expression. Rory was not joking, he was dead serious. An excited thrill raced through him at the thought of keeping Rory Morgan for good. He reached up and touched Rory’s jaw.

“I’m right here. You would catch me if I tried to run anyway.” Milan smiled. “I can’t get very far. We should eat. None of us had a proper meal today.”

“Do you believe me about Rowen?” Rory asked, still holding his gaze.

Milan pressed a soft kiss on Rory’s cheek.

“I believe you.”

Rory nodded and stayed on the same side as Milan, shifting his plate to Milan’s side.

“I think Marie knows you’re here,” Milan said, watching Rory polish off his potpie. “She handed me two spoons when I went to get food.”

Rory grinned.

“Nothing escapes her attention.”

“What if she tells Papa?” Milan asked, breaking off a piece from his bun and dropping it into his soup.

“She won’t,” Rory said, sounding sure.

Milan decided it didn’t matter even though Marie told. He would be glad to face a firing squad if Rory stayed in his room with him like this. They were doing nothing wrong.

***

Rory was reclined against Milan’s pillows reading Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter, one of the Mario Llosa books from Milan’s shelf. Milan sat on the bed drawing on his tablet, a commission from his DeviantArt account. It was almost nine o’clock at night, dinner long finished downstairs. He had listened as Ilaria and Kiyo ate dinner in near silence, none of them making an attempt to find Milan. Ayu had called Ilaria saying he was staying over at a friend’s house. It was strange for the family to be so fragmented at dinner. Rory wondered if it had to do with the fight at the gate.

Rory looked at Milan wanting his mate’s attention even as he worked.

“Why do you read Mario Llosa books?”

“I had a tough tutore in Italy. She thought I read too many graphic novels. So, she brought all those books for me, saying I needed to expand my literature horizons.”

“Did you like them?”

“Some of them,” Milan flashed him a quick smile. “Why do you ask?”

“I just want to know everything about you.”

“I feel as though you know everything about me. When do I get to know everything about you? Don’t you think it’s unfair?” Milan asked.

“Not unfair, we’re taking this bit by bit,” Rory said. “Building us.”

“Oh yeah?” Milan moved his tablet to the side. “You still haven’t told me. Why are you that strong?”

“I told you. I ate spinach from Jet’s farm. It’s quite healthy and magical. You should try it.”

“Come on, Rory. You lifted Papa off the ground earlier. Like feet-dangling-in-the-air lift, he’s not exactly pint-sized. I’m curious.”

Rory sat up straight, using a finger to mark his place in the book he was reading.

“Does it bother you that I can do that?”

Milan stared at him, and Rory wished he could read Milan’s thoughts in that moment. It would be nice to know what Milan was thinking.

“No.” Milan shrugged. “I guess it’s kind of cool since I’m useless on the strength department.”

“So, you’re not scared that I can lift your father.”

“No.”

“What if I can lift a car?”

“Interesting, and very intriguing.” Milan narrowed his gaze at him. “Can you lift a house?”

Rory chuckled then.

“No.”

“Well, that’s a letdown,” Milan said, returning to his drawing.

“Which house would you want me to lift?”

“Yours, bring it next to mine so that we can live close to each other,” Milan said. “When you left earlier, I realized I didn’t know your address. It made me sad.”

“I don’t have an address. I live in the middle of the forest like Grandma Asta,” Rory said. “When you’re ready, I’ll take you there.”

Milan stopped drawing to look at him, his brown gaze clear.

“You have a secret, don’t you?” Milan stated.

Rory studied him for a moment, not sure what to say. Then because he wanted to blurt out all his secrets to Milan, he nodded.

“Yes.”

“You’ll tell me when you think I’m ready?”

“Yes.”

“Is it something weird?” Milan asked. “Like a disease?”

Rory shook his head.

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll wait.”

“Just like that?” Rory asked.

“Yep.”

Milan continued working on his drawing.

Rory shifted so that he was sitting closer to Milan, legs folded under him. He kissed Milan’s cheek, then his forehead. When Milan lifted his head, he took his lips in a sweet kiss that quickly drew them into a heated make-out session on Milan’s bed.

***

Temperatures dropped on Monday. Topher and Matt stopped in the garage in town to pick up two four by four Quad bikes. Rory’s uncle did not bother asking what they would use them for, as long as they returned them.

Topher made sure the bikes were secure in the back of the truck they were using. Adjusting his heavy winter jacket, he jumped into the passenger side, as Matt took off heading to the swamp lands. The drive took them about forty-five minutes. Matt took the turn off leading into the wild swamp lands, driving on winter roads created by lumber yard trucks that sourced wood in the wild forest surrounding the swamp.

“How close do we have to get?” Matt asked.

Topher turned down the music on the stereo, reading the note Rory handed him this morning.

“Close,” Topher said. “Rory said the records read, ‘the stilt homestead stood hidden in white cedar-groves’.”

“Guess we find somewhere to park the truck and head out into the swamp,” Matt said, driving slow on the snowy road forged between trees. “The landscape might have changed in the years. The grove expanded.”

“We’ll have to see,” Topher said, when they reached the end of the rough road.

Matt pulled the truck to the side, and turned it off. He zipped up his heavy jacket, adjusting the furred hood over his head.

Topher followed suit, making sure his hood was secure over his head. Jumping out of the truck, he went to help Matt with the quad bikes. In less than ten minutes, they were moving around thick cedars on frozen snow.

When they were in the thickest part of the swamp, surrounded by tall thick trees, Topher stopped his quad bike, turning the engine off.

“Do you hear that?” he asked, when Matt stopped beside him.

“What?”

“Exactly,” Topher said, gripping the handles on the quad bike. His gaze searching the trees, the ground, everything blending into one. “No bird calls at all. No insect sounds, nothing.”

“We are intruding,” Matt said, getting off his bike. “I see no sign of a homestead. No one in their right mind would live here, Topher. Too cold, too wild.”

Topher frowned, deciding to use his other senses instead of sight. The swamp smelled like a pig farm, thick, rich and blinding. Topher comforted himself with the thought that Rory would not have sent them out here for nothing.

“I—”

Matt broke off, turning to the right, eyes closed.

Movement,” Matt linked to Topher. Nervous steps heading deeper into the swamp. Leave the bike.’

Topher got off his quad bike and followed Matt as they started a fast run.

How many?’

Two.’ Matt answered, pausing behind a thick cedar tree. One has to be too young, slowing down the adult. Can’t pick up their scents thanks to the swamp stench, but we should be able to cut their route off in a few minutes.

Let’s not show ourselves yet,’ Topher warned, eager to follow the two unknown wolves to their home. He followed Matt’s direction, careful to keep hidden behind trees, and soon he too could hear the taxed breathing of an adult carrying a child.

Crouching low on the ground, using a crevice between thick roots, Topher tracked the huffs of fast breathing moving closer, until he put eyes to a short woman carrying a boy of three or four on her back. She was in a heavy red wool coat that covered her whole body. A wool scarf around her neck that she then used to wrap around the little boy she carried. The little boy was in a long down parka with a fur hood pulled over his head.

“Mom, why are we running? Why aren’t you calling Daddy?” the little boy asked.

The woman looked into the trees, her gaze wary as she walked by Topher’s hiding spot, heading up a non-existent path that lead out of the more swampy area.

“Daddy warned us not to wander too far into the swamp,” she said. “He’ll be cross with us if he finds out.”

Traps between the trees,’ Matt warned him when Topher started the climb after the woman. There are fine lines tied between trees that set off traps dug into the ground. Follow her steps.’

Topher kept up behind Matt, careful to step in the same places the woman had used. When they reached the edge of the trees, Topher stopped when Matt did, hiding behind smaller trees to stare at the huge network of stilt wood houses and walkways in the clearing surrounded by white cedar.

The woman they had seen earlier stood at the entrance of the closest house, the little boy disappeared. In front of her was a bear of a man in jeans and an open leather coat, his hair long and held on top of his head with a thick rope made of green string.

“It’s very rude to spy,” he spoke, looking to the trees. “We are of peace here. What do you seek?”

Topher took in a deep breath and emerged from behind the tree, followed by Matt.

“I did not mean to startle the woman,” Topher said in greeting, lowering his head slightly in greeting. He stopped right at the edge of the walkway not daring move in further. “My name is Topher Vadisi, son of Kurtler Vadisi, the Beta of Portento Pack.”

“Beta Topher,” the man answered, nodding in acknowledgement. “Johan McRieve. Your friend?”

“Matt Lechter, son of Hillam Lechter, the Third of Portento Pack.”

Johan whistled and glanced at the woman behind him.

“Elle, we’re in the presence of royalty.” Johan joked. “What brings you to the swamp lands?”

Topher did not miss the warrior class men slowly making their way around the open space, moving to close the gap behind them, cutting off their escape.

“A simple inquiry,” Topher said, aware of Matt turning his back to him so that he could keep an eye on their enemy.

“You came alone,” Johan noted. “If I recall correctly, Connor Morgan should be Alpha now having taken over from his father. Any trips into this swamp lands would include his son, Rory Morgan.”

Topher smiled. “I’m glad you know him. He seeks information from you.”

“Information?” Johan chuckled again, shifting from one foot to the other. “It’s been a long time since I heard a Morgan needing anything from a McRieve.”

“He would not ask if it wasn’t important.”

“Disrupting the peace of our homestead is important too,” Johan growled, moving closer. “These men wish you escorted off our lands. It’s bad enough we have to deal with loggers encroaching on our wild land. We will not have council business spilling in too.”

Tell him Rory is willing to listen to their concerns,’ Matt suggested. The logging company belongs to your father, Topher. Rory can help negotiate a deal.’

“Are you willing to listen to an Alpha’s request in exchange for a boon?” Topher asked, looking at Johan.

Johan paused his approach, turning to look at Elle who still stood by the door of her house. They seemed to have a short private chat, and then Johan turned to Topher.

“You’re Rory Morgan’s champion, aren’t you?” Johan asked.

“I protect his interests, yes,” Topher answered.

“You have invaded our home with no invitation. It is my right to see if you’re worthy of my time,” Johan said, throwing off his coat and turning into a large gray wolf.

Shit, old world rules,’ Mat cursed as he took Topher’s coat.

A duel?

Sort of. He wants a show of strength,’ Matt replied. You lose and Rory loses their respect for sending someone inferior. These ones are on the wild side.’

I’ll take it. I’ll fight him, then get him to promise to meet Rory.’

Topher shifted into his brown wolf, snarling when the gray wolf came at him. He rose on his hind legs, pushing the gray wolf back, escaping snapping teeth. He met the gray wolf in full combat, intent on pinning his aggressive attacker to the ground and making him submit. Strong and sure, Topher blocked Johan’s attempts to lock his powerful jaws on him, snarling as he bit into Johan’s neck, only to lose grip when Johan kicked him away.

They fought fast, dirty, breaking wood and falling into the snow below the walkway. Topher focused on the fight, confident that Matt would keep Johan’s people out of it if necessary. Johan was strong, and aggressive, fueled by the wild. No matter how many times Topher dropped him, he sprang up, ready to face him again.

Topher got lucky when he pinned Johan on the ground pressing him into a stilt. His jaw locked on his neck, teeth sinking deep intent on ending Johan, he snarled when Johan tried to shake him off, tightening his hold, his canines sinking deeper until blood filled his mouth.

Topher tried to talk to the wolf under him, to stop him from resisting, but there was no connection.

“Stop!” Elle shouted from above. “Stop, he is my mate. Please don’t kill him.”

Topher let go and stepped back, changing into his human form, breathing hard. The scratches on his arms and legs from Johan’s bites healing fast. The cold air cooling his hot blood fast.

“Do you submit?” Topher demanded, his voice rough, his eyes yellow, still not turned back.

“I will listen,” Johan answered, after shifting into his human form.

“Why do you not have the pack link?” Topher asked, wondering why he could not talk to Johan in his wolf form. If his mate had not intervened, Johan would be dead.

Johan sighed, pressing his hand into his bleeding neck where Topher had made a deep wound.

“Never bothered to renew it since we started living here. We have lived without it for a few generations.”

“But you’re Portento pack,” Topher noted, watching Elle come running down the steps to the ground under the stilts. She carried two pairs of jeans, and her cheeks were wet with tears. She threw one pair at Topher, and knelt on the wet ground next to Johan.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, throwing Topher an unhappy gaze. “Look what you’ve done to him.”

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to harm,” Topher said, wearing the jeans, and stepping back to look up on the walkway above them. Matt threw him his jacket and boots, which he wore fast hoping to retain some of the warm from the fight. “Your mate insisted and wouldn’t yield at the end.”

“You’re an idiot, Johan,” Elle accused. “Fucking idiot. This is my fault. If I hadn’t taken Foster out today, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Don’t blame yourself, woman,” Johan said, his tone heavy with annoyance.

Johan got up and wore the jeans she brought him. He didn’t bother with a jacket as he walked to the stairs on bare feet. Elle stared after him with a frown, wiping her tears, before she turned to Topher.

“What do you want?”

“Information,” Topher said. “And a promise to meet Alpha Rory.”

“Where?” Elle asked.

“Wherever is comfortable for you,” Topher said. “For the record, I’m obligated to tell Rory Morgan of how large your population is here. These many wolves with no connection to the town’s Alpha—”

“We are loyal to the Morgans. We just don’t show up for the town hall meetings,” Elle countered. “Let’s go inside. I’ll feed you, warm your insides and give you the information you want, then you can be on your way. Rory Morgan will have to come here if he wishes to speak to McRieves. We don’t venture beyond the swamp land.”

Elle started to the stairs and Topher followed her.

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s safer here,” Elle said, leading the way to her house when they got to the walk way. Matt kept up with Topher.

I smell young human blood,’ Matt told him. Within the buildings, can’t pinpoint where.

Maybe this is why they are so protective,’ Topher answered as they entered a large warm living area.

Johan sat in an armchair already, Elle busy checking his neck. Two other women came in from what Topher assumed was the kitchen. They carried trays, one with a pot of hot coffee, and the other with two plates of meat sandwiches.

“Eat,” Elle waved at the table, when Topher and Matt made no attempt to move. “It’s not poisoned.”

Topher reached for a slice of the beef sandwich on the closest plate and took a bite. Matt was more cautious. He picked up the mug of coffee though he didn’t sip from it.

“What do you wish to know?” Elle asked, her attention on Johan’s neck.

“The McRieve line once had a human mate,” Topher stated. “What happened to the pair? Why are is your line not recorded in the books?”

Elle finished attending to Johan and turned to look at Topher and Matt, her brown eyes wide with excitement.

“You would only ask this question if your Alpha was paired with a human,” Elle said with a wide smile. “I can’t believe this is happening in my time.”

Topher looked at Matt confused.

“What is?” Matt asked, placing his mug on the table.

“The Morgan Lore coming to life,” Johan said with a wide happy smile. “You should have spoken up sooner, Topher and Matt. We have been waiting for this for a long time.”

***

At the same exact time, Rory sat in the living room at the Takeda house staring at Ilaria Takeda. Milan sat beside Rory, his hands clenched tight in Rory’s, as he was a mass of nerves. They had both decided to face Milan’s parents together after school today.

Rory was happy they were only facing Ilaria, as Kiyo had returned to his lab. His temper was still too raw to face Kiyo Takeda. He worried now on a constant basis about Milan, and the poison in his body. What it would be like when it ran out. What would he do to stop Kiyo from adding more?

“So, you want to date my son,” Ilaria was saying, her gaze wide with disbelief. “You have been kissing each other in his room for how long? I never got the answer to that.”

“Is it relevant?” Milan asked, blushing hard.

“Quite,” Ilaria said, her elbows resting on her lap as she leaned forward to study them. “Rory Morgan, how did you slip in? I thought you were a friend. When did it become more?”

“From the first time I saw him,” Rory said, holding Ilaria’s gaze.

Ilaria rubbed her eyes, then looked at Milan.

Cucciolo, I know what this must feel like to you. Your first time falling in love. He is gorgeous, I’ll give you that. But—”

“No buts, Mamma,” Milan cut her off, his fingers squeezing Rory’s tight. “I need you to support me on this. Please.”

“It’s difficult to think of you two together that way. I can’t disinfect Rory’s mouth to keep you from getting ill,” Ilaria joked, her eyes wide. “Rory, do you see where I’m going with this?”

“I’ll protect him,” Rory promised, wishing he could make her understand the lengths he could go to protect Milan. “Can’t you trust in that?”

Ilaria studied him for a moment, before she turned to Milan.

“You hurt us yesterday, Milan. You said you preferred to die if that was where kissing Rory led you. Why would you say that?”

“Mamma.”

“Don’t I matter?” Ilaria asked, her eyes glittering with tears. “What about Ayu? There is Marie. Most important, Milan, your father. We all love you so much.”

Rory turned to look at Milan. He hadn’t known his mate had said that yesterday. No wonder Ilaria had not pressed Milan to come down for dinner.

“I’m sorry,” Milan murmured, staring down at their clasped hands. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Yes, you did,” Ilaria said.

“No, I didn’t.” Milan looked at his mother. “I just wanted you to understand that I’ve had to give up on a lot in this life I’m living. I’ve found something in Rory. Something I don’t want to give up. Please, can’t you help me hold on to it?”

***

(2018) (Lee Suilan)
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

Things are getting spicy. Topher and Matt smelt young human blood in the wild wolves settlement. I wonder who it belongs to, and what it means in connection to Rory and Milan. I'm happy the meeting with the wild wolves seem to have been not in vain, and they seem excited about the fact that Rory might have a human mate. I already like Johan and Elle, and hope Rory meets with them, and eventually Milan too. Also, seems like Rory was right about the wild wolves having answers about this Morgan Lore. I can't wait to learn more about it in the upcoming chapters.

 

As for the Takeda family's acceptance of Rory being Milan's boyfriend, I think it's an eventuality. I think everyone kind of accept it, except for Kiyo. I think Kiyo's resistance comes from the fact that he might suspect Rory is a wolf, and with what's going on in his lab, he definitely wouldn't want a wolf being his son's boyfriend. I'm also happy that when Milan ask Rory about his strength, and the fact that he's hiding a secret, Rory didn't deny it, and Milan accepted that he wasn't ready to tell him. It shows that Milan trusts Rory a lot.

 

I can't wait to read the next chapter.😍💘:thankyou::2thumbs:

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On 12/8/2018 at 4:09 AM, bookjunky18 said:

As for the Takeda family's acceptance of Rory being Milan's boyfriend, I think it's an eventuality. I think everyone kind of accept it, except for Kiyo. I think Kiyo's resistance comes from the fact that he might suspect Rory is a wolf, and with what's going on in his lab, he definitely wouldn't want a wolf being his son's boyfriend.

I’m not convinced Kiyo knows werewolves exist. He’s being provided blood with exceptional qualities, but he still may not know where it’s coming from.

 

Looking forward to reading more about the McReives. I wonder ... if you’ve lived your whole life in a swamp, does everyplace else stink in comparison?

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