Imani
“Imani? Can you hand me three of the 100 milliliter syringes?” Dr. Hemsworth requested. I turned around and collided with the metal tray that held the syringes and nearly toppled the tray and its contents over. Thankfully, I righted the tray at the last minute.
“My word. Is everything okay, Imani?”
“I-I’m fine,” I rushed out.
I’m not fine. Jackson offered to mark me!
I never responded to him–at least not verbally. Jackson offered to mark me and I ran out of his office like a bat out of hell, and didn’t leave my bedroom until it was time for him to drive me to the prison.
We remained silent during the car ride, and the hard set of his jaw made me believe he took my fleeing as rejection, but that wasn’t the case. Marking between male wolves and their breeders was…unheard of.