She plants a loud kiss on his cheek, and he nearly drops her.
“Oh my god,” I mutter. “We’re going to be related to a Eustace alpha.”
Violet chokes on a laugh. “You sound thrilled.”
“Terrified,” I correct.
Talon and Thorne reappear near the main fire with Meemaw between them like a queen holding court. They’re both in jeans and half-zipped hoodies now, looking far too pleased with themselves.
Meemaw, as she insisted everyone call her—is holding a mason jar of moonshine in one hand and a grilled skewer in the other, chatting like she’s at a PTA meet-and-greet and not in the middle of a wolf compound.
“…and then I told him, if you’re going to cheat on my granddaughter, at least have the decency to pick someone hotter than her—oh, there they are!” she crows when she sees us.
The alphas straighten instinctively.
“Violet, darling!” she calls. “You and lover-boy finished whispering in the trees?”
Violet squeezes my hand, amused. “For now.”
Talon claps his hands once. “Good! Because this is no longer an execution feast. This is an engagement party. Or a survival feast. Or a humans-scare-the-shit-out-of-us feast. We’re still deciding on the name.”
Someone near the fire shouts, “To the blind human and her suicidal wolf!”
“To the blind human and her suicidal wolf!” the rest of the pack echoes, laughing.
I groan. “Oh, God.”
Violet squeezes my hand again. “I like it.”
Of course she does.
I guide her to a seat on a log, then stand back to take it all in. Someone shoves a plate into my hands—meat, bread, roasted vegetables dripping with fat. My stomach growls so loudly half the circle hears it.
“Eat, stray,” Talon orders. “You can’t brood on an empty stomach.”
I want to argue, but the first bite almost makes me see stars. The adrenaline crash hits at the same time, and I realize I haven’t eaten in… a while.
Violet is handed a plate too, and one of the younger wolves immediately starts describing where everything is.
“Mashed potatoes at twelve o’clock, steak at three, grilled veggies from six to nine,” he says.
“Thank you,” she says warmly. “That’s perfect.”
Talon leans toward me. “We have rules about harming protected humans,” he says casually, like we’re discussing the weather. “Your woman is now under pack protection. Anyone touches her without consent…” His smile turns feral. “We remove something vital.”
“Like their spleen?” I ask dryly.
“Like their head,” Thorne corrects.
“Good to know.”
I look at Violet again, at the way she sits on a log near the fire with Meemaw, listening to stories, asking questions, laughing at the right moments. She looks like she belongs here. Not because they’ve made room for her—because she carved her own. I walk over. “Meemaw, the myth, the woman, the legend. It’s so good to finally meet you.”
“You’re quite a catch, young man. Do I call you young man? Is that okay? Or should I call you wolf man?”
“Meemaw,” Violet hisses.
“Shush you. If he’s calling me a legend, I know you’ve told him stuff about me, so we’re practically family.”
