<b>Chapter </b><b>145 </b>


    I smile with a nod, running my hand through his hair as I get up. I grab the robe off the counter and quickly wrap it around me. Even with the heat tored up, just five minutes out of the warmth of the tub has caused a slight chill.


    I turn back to the tub, Cole’s persistent whimpers alerting me to his nervousness. Ang is speaking quietly to him as she encourages him to open his band. She ces a small foam ball, painted to look like a ser ball, into his hand before closing his fingers around the soft orb.


    “He’s okay, Demetri. He just has a lot of nervous energy that he’s struggling to control.”


    I stand silently, watching as he rests his arm on the side of the tub rapidly squeezing and releasing the ball in his hand. His eyes are closed but that doesn’t keep him from pulling away from Ang’s every move. I sigh deeply as I pry myself away from the sight and quickly leave the room.


    I hurry along the medical wing hallway, my feet pping annoyingly on the white tiled floor. It’s ten at night and with all the prospects nicely settled into their dorm rooms, the pack house is silent entuating the sound.


    I turn lefting out of the hall into themon room, at least the hardwood floors soften the sound of my footsteps better than the tile. I jog up the stairs and slow my pace as I reach the top. I walk down the long hall passing first the medical room on my right. I pause briefly at the first door on my left, I can hear the distressing cries of a young woman in a panic.


    Even though I modified the first two rooms on the left to be mostly sound proof four years ago, you can still hear loud or distressing conversations through the door. I take a step closer since I can clearly hear Damian just on the other side of the door.


    “I don’t understand Jess, how is this a bad thing? Isn’t this what you’ve been longing for? To find your mate?”


    I stand stunned by his side of the conversation. He must be right by the door, keeping her from running back to her apartment about a quarter mile north of the north end of the pack house.


    “I do, I want my mate especially since I’ve always been told that without a birth rank the moon goddess would never give me one but…”


    I can hear her sobbing clearly a foot away from the door but when she speaks again her voice is muffled by her closeness to my son.


    I step away, back into the middle of the hall. Walking another fifteen feet, Ie to my bedroom door. It’s directly across the hall from Lucas’s room, the other one that I modified four years ago.


    Although I encourage my kids to wait until they find their mate to have sex, everyone knows that werewolves are very sexual creatures and waiting until they are twenty–five and are of age to choose their own mate to have sex could have unforeseen consequences of their own.


    Even with that understanding, as their parent, I’m not interested in hearing them having sex nor do I want their sisters woken up by their passion. So <b>I </b>modified their rooms to sound proof it like mine and throughly taught them thews around eptable sexual practices.


    Based on what I’ve seen, Lucas is undoubtedly the yer we thought Damian would be. I take two steps towards Lucas’s door and I’m able to verify that he already has his newest weekly fling in bed with him, despite his bed being as far from the door as <b>we </b>could get it.


    I sigh as I rub the back of my neck, praying to the moon goddess that he at least protects himself with a condom <b>as </b>I’m not ready to help support my grandchild when my own twin daughters are only four.


    I can barely shake my head at his behavior anymore when I think about how we have given him a box of condoms monthly since he turned sixteen three months ago wishing he would have waited until at least eighteen before trying to bed every female warrior that caught his interest.


    I turn back towards my own door, slowly opening it as I step inside. To my surprise, Lilly is up with a sobbing Madilyn in herp. Lilly is stroking our youngest’s straight blond shoulder length hair, whichys messily outside of the ponytail we usually put her in during the day. She’s sitting sideways in her mother’sp, her face buried into her mother’s chest. Her feet are towards the door, tucked into the bottom of her long sleeved Teece gown with tiny pictures of rainbows and unicorns precariously printed all over the fabric.