Autumn had properly arrived, the air sharp and cold, leaves crunching under my combat boots. Stephanie had peeled off at her dorm with a fierce hug and whispered threats about what she'd do if I didn't kill it tomorrow. Robbie had headed to his hotel, making me promise to text him the second curtain fell.
Now it was the four of us under streetlights, our breath fogging in the October air, and something about the night felt electric. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from the performance. Maybe it was knowing tomorrow would change everything. Maybe it was the way Dorian's hand kept brushing mine as we walked.
Whatever it was, I felt wound tight. Restless. My skin too sensitive, my senses too sharp.
"Tomorrow changes everything," Corvus said quietly.
"Stop saying that," I muttered. "You're making it worse."
"Tomorrow terrifies me," I admitted when the silence stretched too long. "What if I freeze? What if the performance isn't as good as tonight? What if—"
"You won't," Oakley interrupted gently. "You know why? Because you're not performing for the scouts. You're performing for you. That's your secret weapon—you don't do this for validation. You do it because you have to."
"That's annoyingly insightful."
"I contain multitudes."
We reached the pack house, porch light glowing warm against the dark. Home. Still strange to think of it that way, but less strange than it used to be.
At the door, the bond pulled. That natural pack instinct to curl up together before a big day, to draw comfort and strength from proximity. My body was already responding—pulse quickening, skin warming, that low hum of want starting in my belly.
Fuck. Not helpful right now.
"Do you want company tonight?" Dorian asked carefully, reading something in my face. "Or do you need space?"
I should say space. Should go to my room, focus, sleep, wake up ready. That was the smart choice. The disciplined choice.
But I'd spent two hours channeling every emotion I had into a performance, and now my body didn't know what to do with all the energy still coursing through me.
"I don't know what I need," I admitted.
Inside, the house was quiet. Warm. Oakley moved toward the kitchen automatically—probably to make sure I had water and snacks for tomorrow. Corvus headed for his office, giving me space to decide.
Dorian lingered. Ice-blue eyes tracking my face in the dim entryway lighting.
"You're wound up," he observed.
"That obvious?"
"Your scent's sharper. Jasmine with something underneath." He stepped closer, careful. Testing. "Adrenaline crash?"
"Maybe." I swallowed. "Or maybe I spent two hours being someone else and now I don't know how to be myself again."
His hand came up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone. "You were extraordinary tonight."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true." His voice dropped lower. "Watching you on that stage, completely in your power—I've never seen anything more beautiful."
The bond hummed between us, warm and wanting. I leaned into his touch without meaning to, and his pupils dilated.
"Vespera," he said carefully. "What do you need?"
Kiss me. Touch me. Help me burn off this energy. The thoughts came unbidden, and from the way his breath caught, he could read them in my face.
"I need to focus," I said instead, even as my body betrayed me by swaying closer. "Tomorrow is—"
"Tomorrow is important." His other hand settled on my waist. "But so is tonight. So are you."
