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