The shower feels heavenly, hot water washing away the lingering effects of the ritual. As I soap my body, I notice other changes. My skin seems to glow with vitality, and the constant fatigue that's plagued me since leaving Kyle's coven has vanished. I feel energized, powerful in a way I haven't in years.
After drying off, I wrap myself in a towel and stand before the mirror again. The marks are still there, badges of belonging that both thrill and unnerve me. Without thinking, I reach for my magic, calling up the familiar pattern of the glamour spell. It slides into place with surprising ease, the magic responding to my will more readily than it ever has before. The scars on my face disappear beneath the illusion of perfect skin, but the bite marks on my neck remain perfectly in view.
I stare at my reflection, at the lie I've worn for so long. It feels different now, hollow somehow. But old habits die hard, and the thought of facing the world—even just my new pack—with my vulnerabilities exposed makes anxiety twist in my gut. So much has changed, and the glamour feels comfortable. Like an old blanket.
Dressed in clean clothes—jeans and a soft sweater that magically appeared in my drawers since I refused the guys' last offer to take me shopping for more clothes—I head downstairs, following the scent of coffee and bacon. The wolves have taken over the kitchen, moving around each other with the easy familiarity of a pack that's lived together for years. Sean flips pancakes with a little more theatricality than strictly necessary, while Micah scrambles the eggs. Rowan sets the table, and Killian pours coffee into mugs arranged on the counter. One of the mugs reads "AWESOME SAUCE."
Pretty sure that's Sean's.
They all look up when I enter, and I feel a sudden wave of distress flowing through the bond. Four pairs of eyes fix on my face, then my neck, and I realize they're staring right at the glamour in a way they never do at my scars.
"Regina," Killian says softly, like he knows he's broaching a sensitive subject. "You don't need to hide from us."
I touch my cheek self-consciously. "I... it's habit."
"We understand," Micah says gently. "If it makes you more comfortable?—"
"But we'd rather you didn't," Sean interrupts, unusually serious. "Not with us. Not here in your own home."
My home. The words feel warm and heady as they echo in my ears.
"It's your choice," Rowan adds. "Always. But..."
"But we want to see you," Killian finishes. "All of you. The real you."
I hesitate, feeling their sincerity flowing through the bond. It's no longer possible to tell myself they're just saying things when I can actuallyfeeltheir emotions. There's no disgust there, no pity, only genuine desire to see me as I am. It's disorienting after years of Kyle's subtle manipulation, his insistence that my scars were something to be hidden so I wouldn't embarrass him, a flaw to be concealed rather than a mark of survival.
A memory springs to the surface, unbidden. One night, after he'd had me making potions all week for his "friends," who I later realized were just clients who were giving him money he didn't want me to know about, I was too exhausted to maintain the glamour. So I showed up to the coven meeting without it.
Kyle lost his shit.
That memory is so different from the reality of the acceptance around me, but those old reflexes are hard to shake. My stupid brain keeps piping up that any minute, their masks of concern and adoration are going to crumble to reveal the disgust beneath.
The nascent bond between us makes that a little harder to believe, though.
"You're perfect, sexy witch," Sean says, abandoning his pancakes to approach me. "You're the hottest thing any of us have everseen. If I thought you'd ever let me take a photo of you naked, I'd already have it printed on a poster, hanging above my bed."
"He's right," Micah adds, his eyes warm behind his glasses. "You were made for us."
"You don't have to hide anymore," Rowan says softly. "Not here. Not with us."
Killian doesn't speak, but his emotions flow through the bond clear as day—fierce pride, and a bone-deep certainty that I'm exactly what he wants, exactly as I am.
"What do you say, beautiful?" Micah asks, coming up on my other side. "Will you let us see you?"
I reach for my magic again, ready to drop the glamour. But before I can complete the gesture, the doorbell rings, shattering the moment.
All four wolves tense, heads swiveling toward the front of the house.
"Sadie," Micah says, relaxing slightly. "I'd know that magical signature anywhere."
"Your sister's timing is ass, Micah," Killian growls, as if Micah has any control over that.
"I'll get it," Rowan offers, already moving toward the door.
A moment later, Sadie sweeps into the kitchen like a gothic hurricane, clad in all-black clothes and jangling jewelry. Her eyes scan the room, taking in the domestic scene with obvious relief.
"Wow, you're all still alive," she announces in a flat tone. "And in the same number of pieces as yesterday. I'm shocked."
