I gather my papers, needing to escape this conversation before I say something I’ll regret. “I should check on the reconnaissance preparations.”
Ryker lets me go, but his parting words follow me out of the council chamber. “Tonight, at the feast. Give yourself permission to be happy, even if it’s just for one night.”
Give myself permission to be happy.As if it’s that simple. As if happiness is something I could simply decide to allow myself, like an extra helping of dessert or a day off from training.
But as I make my way through the den’s corridors, I can’t shake his words. What would it be like to stop fighting this pull toward Kier? To simply let myself have what I want, consequences be damned?
Dangerous,my rational mind warns.Giving your heart to someone means giving them the power to destroy you when they leave.
If they leave,my wolf counters.Kier is different.
Just for tonight,I think, turning the idea over in my mind.Maybe I can have this, just for tonight.
The decision sends a thrill of anticipation through me, mixed with an edge of fear that I refuse to acknowledge. One night. What harm could there be in that?
The main hallhas been transformed by late afternoon. Tables have been arranged in a great circle, with space in the center for dancing. Garlands of pine and wildflowers hang from the rafters, their scent mingling with the mouth-watering aromas coming from the kitchen. Candles and lanterns cast a warm, golden glow over everything, creating an atmosphere of celebration and comfort.
I linger in the entrance, momentarily overwhelmed by the sight. Kitara has outdone herself in the few hours since she proposed this gathering. The pack moves around the space with easy familiarity, setting out plates and goblets, arranging seating, laughing and talking as they work.
This is what we’re fighting for. Not just survival, but this—community, belonging, and joy that’s shared among people who care for each other.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
I turn to find Kier standing behind me, and my breath catches in my throat. He’s cleaned up for the occasion, his copper hair damp from a recent shower, curling slightly at the ends where it brushes his shoulders. He’s wearing clothes borrowed from one of the larger pack members—dark pants and a forest-green shirt that brings out the gold in his eyes.
“You look…” I search for a word that won’t reveal too much. “Different.”
A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “Different good or different bad?”
“Just different,” I hedge, though we both know it’s good. Very good.
He steps closer, his scent wrapping around me—pine and leather and something uniquely him that makes my wolf stir with interest. “You look beautiful,” he says simply.
I glance down at my own attire—a deep blue dress that Kitara insisted I wear. “Thanks.”
An awkward silence falls between us, and I scramble for something to say that doesn’t involve how much I want to drag him out of this hall and back to my quarters.
“I saw you training with Elias this morning,” I offer. “He was impressed.”
“He said that?”
“Not in so many words. But he doesn’t offer to spar with just anyone.”
Kier’s expression warms. “Your pack has been… welcoming. More than I expected.”
“They’re good people,” I say, feeling an absurd surge of pride. “The best.”
“I can see that.” His gaze travels around the hall, taking in the preparations and the wolves working together. “This is something special you have here, Lithia. I haven’t seen anything like it in a long time.”
The wistfulness in his voice tugs at something in my chest. “You could be part of it, you know. If you wanted.”
His eyes snap back to mine, suddenly intense. “Could I?”
The question carries more weight than the simple words suggest. He’s asking about more than just acceptance into the pack, and we both know it.
Before I can answer, Kitara appears, looking radiant in a flowing dress that accommodates her pregnancy. “There you two are! Come in, come in. The feast is about to begin.”
She takes both our hands, drawing us into the hall with a strength that belies her small stature. “I’ve saved seats for you at the head table.”
