We’d worked hard to get rid of as many vines as we could over the summer, and the thought of any sprouting up around the gate was making me itch already. Shifters couldn’t heal from venom, poisons, or plant resin. Sometimes the others came out of a shift in the woods and had to walk back to the house.
“You’re not going to shoot him, are you?”
Lucian cocked the gun. “That remains to be seen.” He flew out the door.
“Don’t you dare!”
“I’ll aim for the tires!”
Hamish was the neighboring Packmaster whose ludicrous acts knew no bounds. Tak said he was engaging in psychological warfare to make us reactive and more prone to mistakes thatmight get us in trouble with the Council. Judging by Lucian’s reaction, his tactics were clearly working.
I hurried to the back porch and spotted Tak hauling lumber. He glanced up at me and smiled.
“Hamish is at the gate,” I called out. “Lucian ran out with a gun.”
The wood planks hit the ground. When Tak clucked his tongue, Luna trotted to the gate. He let her out, jumped onto her back, and took off like a jockey in a horse race.
I hugged my middle when a gust of chilly wind rattled the leaves in the tree branches. A few stray flowers danced in the pasture behind the house, the native grass still green. I would miss the colors of summer but not the heat.
Catcher ran into sight and surveyed the yard. His tongue hung out the side of his mouth as he panted. When he spotted me, he bounded up the steps and nudged my hand.
“What have you been up to?” Noticing tiny burrs on his paws, I got down on my knees and started picking them off. “Hamish is stirring up trouble again. As if he doesn’t have enough land,” I muttered. While Catcher caught his breath, I flicked the burrs off the porch. “Atticus is staying in the heat house for a few days. Don’t go chasing him at night, okay? He’s our friend.”
“Ruff,” he replied.
Once I cleared off the prickly burrs, I realized I couldn’t stand back up. As if sensing my dilemma, Catcher stepped in front of me and barked. I used his back as support to push myself to my feet.
“I won’t be doing that again,” I muttered.
When another frigid gust of wind blew a small screwdriver off the railing, Catcher took my wrist in his mouth and pulled me to the back door.
I let him lead me inside before he turned and ran off. Greeted by a quiet house, I sat at the dining room table, lost in my thoughts.
Maybe I should take Salem’s offer. He’s always been stable and someone I can depend on. What if he’s right about Atticus? Vampires are so strong.
I laced my fingers over my belly. This wasn’t about me anymore. My heart said one thing, but how was I supposed to know if it was the right choice? Would Atticus struggle with living in a pack? Would they even accept him? Salem was dependableanda healer—he had a lot to offer even though we were incompatible.
Why did he want to use me as a buffer to keep women away? What a silly reason. Didn’t he want to get mated? And what if we got together and he fell in love with someone? He would have to choose between abandoning his makeshift family for love or never being with his true mate.
There were pros and cons to both scenarios, and I was running out of time. A third option existed, but that would mean denying both offers.
Chapter 23
That evening, I couldn’t sleep. When I ventured downstairs, I noticed a light in the back hall coming from the library’s rear exit. Lucian often wandered around late at night. Not wanting to disturb him, I entered the kitchen and munched on a few grapes.
With anyone else, it would have been too late for a visit, but Atticus didn’t sleep. Wearing my white nightgown and slippers, I headed to the heat house. An owl hooted in a nearby tree, and in the distance, it sounded like Archer’s wolf howling.
I squealed at a burst of cold wind as I hurried toward the wooden cabin off to the right. Before I reached it, Atticus swung open the door.
“Inside. Hurry,” he said while guiding me in. Before I could speak, he vanished into the bedroom and returned with a blanket, which he wrapped around me. “The hour is late, and you’re underdressed for this weather. Is this warm enough?”
“This is fine. It’s a shame we didn’t build a fireplace in here, but Tak was afraid it might be a fire hazard.” I admired his loose white Henley and grey sweatpants. Atticus always looked classy even in casual attire. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
He flashed a handsome smile. “Nonsense. As it so happens, I was reading one of your books.”
I wanted to sink through the floor at the idea of him reading one of our torrid romances. “From in there?” I pointed toward the bedroom.
He grinned. “No, from your home library. I was in there an hour ago and found an intriguing collection on Shifter history in North America.”
