Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)-Chapter 173 - Things You Should Say And Things You Shouldn’t

Vrika whined softly, sensing my self-recrimination. My wolf didn’t understand the complexities of human courtship rituals-

> Yes, that’s what I’m calling this. <

Hells, real wolves don’t even form packs in quite the same way as werewolves tend to. The hierarchical structure of werewolves is as entirely human as forming shifter kingdoms was.

In reality, their beast counterparts like my spirit friend here having more than one dominant mating pair inside a group is usually unlikely. After the young come of age, which is often after spending quite a while hunting with their parents...

They usually run out to form their own small pack. Or try to, in order to spread out the competition for food. Abundance or the lack of it is understood by all.

But manufacturing it is mostly understood by humans. And maybe aphids and bees? Actually all I can think of right now are insects...

"Oh, I guess varieties of squirrels count for storing food away. And promptly forgetting where it was hidden."

The phone buzzed, and I ignored it. Tried to pretend I was imagining it, because of all the flying, insectile crunches and stings that are on the tip of my memory’s tongue.

Until the vibration happened again. Then it started outright ringing! ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

"No. Absolutely not. I can’t look at that right now. I am not in any state to be-"

Even as I denied it, I craned my neck to stare at the device as it vibrated across the wood. Kyrie’s stupid nickname and contact photo lit up the screen. The number of noisy rings that went on felt like half an hour flew by, but it was probably...

Just the fourth or fifth repetition when my traitorous fingers slid over and swiped up. If I didn’t know better, I might have blamed my wolf for controlling my body and doing it. I still might throw the black furred thing under the proverbial bus if I have to.

"..."

I said nothing. Just rapidly held the phone to my ear and listened to her breathe. Listened to the sharp inhale in her voice when she realized It wasn’t ringing in again - but wasn’t going to voicemail. That I’d picked up but wasn’t speaking.

"Hello? Citra?"

Her voice was as soft as someone trying not to spook a wild animal. My own comparison grated on my nerves, because of how little it makes me feel she thinks of my courage. And how correct she is at certain times.

"..."

"Okay. I’ll just talk then. I... I got your message earlier. The photo."

The way she spoke the term at the end felt like taut wire stretched between us. Like the kind they use to electrify and send currents of energy toward each other in this world. A ’live wire’ I believe they call it.

"I know it’s hours away now, but I just wanted to make sure you were alright? That it wasn’t... an accident you sent it to me."

> I could tell her it was. Tell her I didn’t mean it. Make this easier on both of us. <

But I couldn’t.... because it hadn’t been an accident, and I’m sure we both knew it. As sure I was that if she’d actually attempted to show up? Well, the two hours would still have been emotionally daunting - and I’d still have a headache right now.

Maybe I should go get water? I might be just a little dehydrated. Standing to my feet, I start to plod toward the bathroom sink.

"...Was there something you wanted to say to me?"

Her voice spoke over the line. I knew of course, that she could hear me breathing back. All I had to do was speak and say almost anything. Bridge that single step wide gap the image had created.

Instead, I listened to her patient breathing and felt my heart crack a little more with each passing second. Because I was a coward now that I’m being confronted with the option - at a distance that lets me remember the reasons it could go wrong.

Great for me, bad for her. Bad for us both. So bad that I become her enemy somehow. Stubbornly afraid of just what exactly allowing myself to want her physically might cost me.

"No. Just sent you a photo. That was all."

My head sunk forward until it touched the cold tile ’backsplash’. I wanted to scream over how my voice sounded. I should be much more impressive at restraining my vulnerability than this. Like I was trained to do at court settings.

> I turned it on so easily against that shitty smelling werewolf who belongs to her pack, but I can’t even say less than a dozen words to her while being ’strong’? This is absolute nonsense, Vrika! <

"Citra. I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk. I’m not going anywhere, Princess. I’m waiting. And I’ll always answer your call if I’m available to do so."

The pure, fervent gentleness in her voice undid me. I hung up the phone. And immediately threw up into the sink.

For five seconds, I don’t think about it. But then I remember something potentially useful.

"Should... scan."

I say while turning on the faucet to clean it up. Swishing some in my mouth, spitting it out, then glugging down from the awkward position while I hold a glowing green hand to my chest.

Soon, the all important ’vitals’ line told me I was normal. But there was one that had a change. The ’notes’ on the pregnancy mentioned that [experiencing morning sickness] was [common].

> Is it suggesting I didn’t just throw up because of emotional distress? Because it sure felt like that’s what I’ve done each time I’ve retched. <

"And why am I always so hungry immediately after? I can still taste bile but I really, really want bacon. On a cheeseburger. With a fried egg? Is all of that together even a thing?"

One cold, cold short shower later was followed by an internet search that told me... yes, it certainly was. No, none of the restaurants that do it are open for those lunch services...

And I argued with the device about what constitutes breaking a fast if not a giant hefty meal. My craving then morphed to something I actually have, and I stepped lightly but quickly... also known as ran through fifteen feet of the apartment into the kitchen.

Opening the pantry, I grab for the jar and study how to properly get it open. The plastic sealing peels off, the metal cap makes a little pop noise as the outside air surged into the vacuum.

The rich aroma hits me - and I slug back half of the container of bone broth before moaning and curling my toes where I stood.

"Oh, that’s not a good fresh bone but its the next best thing..."

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