He sends me cards on Valentine’s Day, and I send him odd souvenirs from my life–scribbled poems, bookmarks, ribbons. I think even if our parents hadn’t arranged our marriage, we easily could have fallen for each other. Our engagement is a sign of allegiance and support from us Silverfoxes, and gives both me and my parents financial security for life. As the oldest, I was pledged to the alpha clan the Ironclaws, since I was born.
IREHEARSE PLUS HIGH SIERRA FULL
My sister Michelle has full autonomy, attending the Cordon Bleu and steadily dating a young pastry chef she met all of three months ago. Our parents set the date for us when we were about four years old, and we took it for granted that it would one day be the two of us united forever. Hugh Ironclaw and I might be planning our wedding together, but we barely know each other. “It happens to the best of us.” He leans over and timidly pecks me on the cheek. Someone chuckles, but Hugh nods sympathetically. “I’m really sorry about all this,” I babble, a certain crimson shade rising up my neck. Then I straighten and turn to Hugh and his friends with a weak smile. I rap on the dorm room door a few times and hope that it’s late enough in the day for my roommate to have woken up. Here I am, standing out here in the hall with my fiance and his friends behind me, and the same key I’ve had all year is just now deciding it’s not going to work. (Actually, I’m pretty brilliant at staying on top of a schedule that involves honors, student government, and acting as a TA for Professor Solomon). I’m not counting the fact that I shift into wolf-form one night a month or that I never have enough hours of the day. I don’t mean in the old-fashioned sense of the word, either. To everyone who joined and supported me early on. No part of this book may be reproduced in any written or electronic form in whole or in part without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Any names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of imagination.
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