My knit sock-covered feet are silent on the pale wood floors and the thickest sweater I packed is wrapped around me like armor. It shields me from the morning draft but not from the chill still rattling my bones. I’m finding it’s hard to keep out the cold whenit’s bleeding from within you.
I pause at the large open entrance of the wing that is essentially just an open-floor-plan kitchen and living room. The space is already bustling with familiar faces and my stomach drops, guilt eating away at me for not getting down here sooner.
Elio and Hattie sit tucked into the breakfast nook with Siggy, strips of sunlight streaking over them from the row of windowsabove their bench seat. They’re still unsteady, still finding their feet after being dragged out of that hellscape of a club. New house. New people. New everything. I should’ve remembered to set an alarm and made sure I was here to help ease them in.
But if I’m honest, I’m also off-balance being here. This isn’t my home, no matter how much my wolf relaxes in the comforting way his scent clings to the walls—to every ounce of air in every room. And the events in Ashvale still gnaw at me. The fact it happened at all is something I’m still trying to wrap my muddled mind around, but the knowledge that it could have ended so much worse if Rennick hadn’t arrived in time is also hard to reconcile.
And then there’s the small, casual problem of me coughing up blood now.As far as red flags go, that one’s hard to ignore.It’s a poignant reminder that this sickness isn’t just some common cold my immune system can fight. It’s a soul deep infection and it’s not going to slow down, even if I have fleeting moments of reprieve because of his proximity. It’s still progressing every minute, sinking it’s claws deeper and deeper, dragging me toward an end I’m not ready to face. It’s proof I might not make it if I don’t admit the truth to the one person who could stop it.
It’s a sobering reality that would throw anyone off their game, but my Nightingales don’t need someone who’s unraveling. They need me steady. They need me present.
So, I smooth the worry from my face, gather myself as best I can, and step into the humming kitchen.
At the end of a massive white-stone island, Rhosyn dices different kinds of fruit and slides the pieces into a waiting glass bowl. Down a bit from her, Canaan stands at the six-burner stove, handling various hot skillets with ease like he was a short-order cook in a past life. They’d stayed late last night help settle everyone in before retreating to their own cabin. I’d been happyfor them that they were able to have some separation from the craziness. They needed some time together to just breathe and be a mated pair.
Seren leans against the counter, speaking in low tones with Rhosyn while little Ivey perches comfortably on her hip. The baby gums at a bright teething toy, her cheeks flushed and her happy babbles adding a bright note to the other chatter going on in the room. My heart pinches at the sight of her, the horrors we’d escaped together flashing behind my eyes. Once again, I find myself thankful her young mind will spare her from carrying the memory of our encounter of Malvina and her sisters.
And then there’s him.
Rennick’s at the opposite end of the kitchen, half hidden by a little bar-like alcove. His back is to me, and he fusses with something I can’t see, but I know the moment he feels me here. His shoulders, broad beneath the fitted white Henley, tighten. His spine straightens. I wait, frozen mid-step, certain he’ll turn, certain he’ll look.
He doesn’t.
I don’t have time to analyzes the mixed emotions this creates in me because my attention is snagged away by Siggy, who’s clocked my arrival.
My Nightingale slips off the bench in a blur, wheat-blonde ponytail swishing, and barrels into me with a hug that nearly knocks my sore body off-balance. Stabilizing myself, I fold her close and echo her easy “Good morning.” Her smile is bright enough to warm the coldest parts of me when she pulls back. Every day she edges closer to the girl I’m sure she was before her world was ripped away, and every day my heart aches a little less for her. Her resilience is remarkable.
She returns to sit with Hattie and Elio on the wooden bench and falls back into easy, quiet conversation with the pair.
My gaze wanders through the kitchen, over pale wood cabinetry and the rough texture of a stone wall. The metal-topped dining table is big enough to host a small army and the glass pendants are simple but still match the contemporary feel of the home. It’s all such a contrast to the witchy-maximalist style we’d infused into the rooms at the manor. But I decide I like it, even if it’s different from my usual aesthetic.
Seren sidles up beside me, slipping her free arm around my shoulders in a brief squeeze. On her hip, Ivey squeals in recognition, grinning around her slobbery toy at me. I can’t help smiling back, brushing stray wisps of blonde hair from her tiny head.
My best friend’s pale blue eyes cut straight through me, full of worry she doesn’t bother to hide. “Did you sleep okay?” she asks.
“Like the dead,” I chirp, teeth flashing with a grin I don’t feel.And woke up feeling like death, too,I tack on silently.
“Noa…” The way she says my name is quiet but heavy, weighted with both fear and the plea she won’t speak aloud. I can hear it anyway, I know exactly what she’s begging of me.
She wants me to tell Rennick. To confess that he’s the cure for the sickness hollowing me out, that his claiming mark could heal me and stop the rot, that it could also get me through my looming heat. My wolf is already pressed flat in submission at the thought, her neck tilted, begging for his bite. She wants to wear his mark. Wants it like oxygen. I wish I could surrender as easily. But ice crawls through my veins at the thought. I can’t. Not yet.
Seren’s eyes continue to plead with me to stop pretending, but I’m already rehearsing the lie…I’m fine. I have this under control.It’s a lie we both recognize for what it is. The words are on my tongue when a hand slides across my back. Heat spreads beneath my skin. I gasp without meaning to. Shock hits first.Then pleasure. Then a relief so penetrating it nearly buckles my knees.
Seren looks over my shoulder, her expression softening as she backs away. Giving us space.
His touch thaws the frost that’s clung to me like a second skin since I opened my eyes and my next breath isn’t something I have to fight for. It goes in smooth, effortlessly. My rib cage expanding without complaint or pain. All the jagged edges created in his absence are soothed with a single touch.
I don’t turn. I don’t have to. My soul already recognizes his presence.
Rennick.
Before I can gather the courage to meet his gaze, a white ceramic mug is brought down into my sight line. Steam curls upward, rich and sweet with the scent of coffee. He brought me a latte. That’s what he’d been working on in that little alcove. The gesture is so domestic, so painfully normal, it has me daydreaming about a life I’m terrified to want, one where my mate begins every morning with this simple offering, as if I belong to him in all the small, ordinary ways.
“Here you go, sweet one,” he murmurs at my temple, his breath warm against my skin before the faintest kiss lands there.
I don’t know if it’s the use of his silly nickname for me or the brush of his lips against my skin, but my knees tremble and longing pinches low in my stomach.
I swallow hard and start to reach for the mug but freeze when the violent tremble in my hands betrays me. His closeness and brief touch may have cut through some of the chill and eased the ache that made me want to curl into a ball, but it’s not enough to undo the damage hours of separation wreaked on my body. The longer I’m near him, the better I’ll feel and the less noticeable the side effects will be.
