My body is finally catching up to the days of magical strain. As I get dressed and brush my hair, I hesitate for a moment before deciding to put my glamour back up. I may not be back to my usual power, but I've got enough energy to use it sparingly, thanks to the pack.
Just as a treat.
When I finally drag myself downstairs, it's well past ten o'clock. I'm disoriented by how well I slept—again—and by the sheeramount of noise coming from the living room. I follow the noise to find the pack engaged in what can only be described as somewhat organized chaos.
Sean and Killian are on the couch, their controllers gripped in white-knuckled hands as they scream obscenities at the television. Micah sits cross-legged on the floor, his own controller nearly disappearing in his massive hands. Rowan perches on an armchair, somehow managing to look simultaneously above it all andintenselyengaged.
"You fucking knothead!" Sean yells, shoving Killian's shoulder hard enough to make a normal human topple over. Killian barely budges. "Stop spawn-camping, you cheap bastard!"
"Not my fault you keep running back to the same spot like a lemming," Killian fires back, not even bothering to look at Sean as his thumbs dance over the controller.
"Grenade!" Micah warns, and they all start mashing buttons frantically.
A massive explosion fills the screen, followed by Sean's howl of outrage. "Are you kidding me? I had fifteen seconds left on my power-up!"
Rowan catches sight of me first, his eyes flicking toward the doorway. "Morning," he says, straightening up immediately and feigning disinterest in the game. "Coffee's in the kitchen. Fresh pot."
The other three heads whip around in unison, and I can't help but laugh at how they look exactly like a pack of startled pups.
"What's so funny?" Killian asks, his brows furrowing.
"Nothing," I say, trying to suppress my smile. "Just didn't expect to find four grown shifters screaming over a video game at ten in the morning."
"It's team deathmatch," Sean says, as if that explains everything. "And Killian's a cheating asshole."
"You're just pissed because you suck," Killian retorts, but he's already setting down his controller and standing up to cross the room to me. "Sleep okay?"
His concern sounds completely genuine, which still disarms me every time. "Better than I have in a long time, actually."
"No nightmares?" Sean asks, perking up.
I pause, thinking about it. "No, actually."
Sean clenches his fist and pulls it in tight against his chest, biting his lower lip in a silentfuck yesthat he's clearly struggling to keep quiet. Like he personally fought off a nightmare and won.
"The pendant looks good on you," Micah says, his eyes brightening behind his glasses.
"Thanks." I fiddle with the delicate chain. "It's... something special."
"You want breakfast, gorgeous? There's stuff for omelettes," Rowan says, unfolding himself from the armchair.
Wow. Men that stop gaming because there's a woman in the room. Wolves, at that. A miracle.
"Coffee first," I say, heading for the kitchen. "Then I actually have some news."
"News?" Killian follows close behind me, his presence so large that the kitchen immediately feels smaller. "Good news or bad news?"
"Depends on your perspective, I guess." I pour myself a cup of coffee and take a long, appreciative sip. Whoever made it knew what they were doing. It's strong but not bitter, with just a hint of cinnamon. "I think I've figured out the ritual. It's complex, but doable with the ingredients Sadie's collecting. There's just one more thing I need."
"Name it," Killian says immediately, leaning against the counter. The others filter in behind him, forming a semicircle of attentive wolf. It's almost comical how synchronized they are.
"Is it shifter semen?" Sean asks, trying to dive over the counter even though it ends up as more of a slide. He catches himself, stretching out across the marble top and propping his head on his elbow in a cheesy pose ripped straight out of Playgirl. "Because we can totally supply that."
I snort a laugh even as Rowan glowers viciously at him and sneaks up behind his packmate to shove him off the counter. I'm assuminghe'sthe reason it's spotless.
"Ow," Sean groans, rolling over on the floor. "Not cool, man."
"A wolf all over my clean counter is thedefinitionof not cool," Rowan says, already breaking out the Clorox wipes.
