From the corner of my eye, Liz is trying, and failing, not to laugh. Iris, of course, floats in behind us, humming some unholy tune, like parading your granddaughter through the woods in a muumuu is a normal evening for her.
“Be grateful, Rowan,” she chirps. “That dress has seenmore action than you’ll ever know. Strong fabric. Stretchy seams. A vampire once proposed to me in it, offering me ablissfuleternity, if you know what I mean. Though in hindsight it might’ve been the spelled wine talking.”
I groan, dragging the hem across the hall floor like I’m the ghost of poor fashion choices. “I should’ve taken Cade’s shirt. Hell, ants in the butt crack would’ve been better than this.”
Liz covers her mouth to hide another snort, but her eyes are glowing with amusement. “Head on up to your room. I’ll be there shortly. We need to talk.”
And just like that, all the huffing and puffing about my lack of clothes seems like second fiddle.
Reality is a cruel bitch sometimes.
Still, I keep my chin high, stomping toward my room like a warrior queen dressed for the wrong battlefield. But the humor doesn’t soothe the heat in my chest. Beneath the humiliation and beyond the fear of what’s to come, there’s something else simmering—an ache I don’t want to name.
Every step I take, there’s a hum that grows inside me, urging me back toward the forest and reminding me of Cade’s eyes when he looked at me as a wolf.
Reverence and desire. Like I was something he’d cherish for lifetimes.
That’s the bond, my wolf tells me.You should get used to it, because that connection isn’t going anywhere.
I don’t even consider disagreeing with her. Not now when my hormones still feel like they’re trying to run the show. Shifting definitely helped level me out, but thebrain fog from the bond is something else entirely, and I need to find a way to work around it.
You accept him as your mate, and the world will feel crystal clear.
She just has all the answers.
It’s not that simple, I reply as I enter my room, putting Archie on the bed as I head to get changed.People don’t just meet and decide to getbondedfor life in the same week.
And you’re notpeople, Rowan.
Her answer is a reminder strong enough that I find myself leaning against the closet door and closing my eyes as the memory of running through the trees consumes me. My wolf had been weightless, paws eating up the earth as if I’d been made for nothing else. Power sang in my veins with every stride, a current of energy so natural it was like slipping into skin I should’ve been born knowing.
The moon stretched silver light across my fur, and Cade’s presence was a steady drumbeat beside me. Together, we weren’t just running. We were untouchable. The bond between us had snapped taut and alive, pulling at every corner of me. It had been stronger there, in that form, under the stars and in the rhythm of our shared strides. Like my wolf knew him in ways my human heart still refuses to accept.
Now, standing barefoot on the wood floor of my room, I do my best not to let myself be distracted as I pull on soft cotton leggings and a loose, burnt-orange sweater. An easy task now that the power is quieter and I'm on two feet.
The muumuu gets thrown on a chair, Iris can havethat back, and I sit at the edge of my bed, brushing my hair back from my face. Archie joins me, but we’re both silent for a beat.
The exhilaration is gone, but something tells me that tonight is something I’ll be dreaming about for many nights to come. This has been a lot to process, yet at the same time, it feels like not enough.
I’ve tasted what it’s like to be exactly who I was born to be, and I don’t know how long I can go without feeling it again, but even admitting that, I know there are other obstacles we need to sort out first.
As if reading my thoughts while waiting for their moment, a knock rattles the door. Liz’s voice filters through first, calm and composed, followed by Iris’s, loud and unbothered.
The cavalry has arrived.
“She already told you that she’s not going to wear that.” Liz sighs, rubbing at her temples like she regrets existing in the same century as Iris Prescott.
Iris bursts through the door behind her like she’s been waiting for her cue. “Yeah, well, you also thought she’d rather be naked than wear the muumuu. Guess who was right?” She holds up a black fanny pack with the NightShade logo stitched across the front in sparkly thread, shaking it like it’s a prize on a game show. “Behold—the NightShade Survival Satchel. You’re going to love this.”
The bag is tossed at me, and I catch it out of sheer self-preservation. “Absolutely not.”
“But it has everything you need in it.” Iris plops onto the bed beside me with enough force to send Archiescampering away and nearly sends me tumbling to the floor. She’s already unzipping compartments before I can protest. “Look at Exhibit A!”
She pulls out a keychain-sized canister and flicks it toward my face. “Mace. Magically enhanced to work on wolves, vampires, and arrogant men. Do not confuse this with your dry shampoo unless you want to experience what hell’s cologne smells and burns like.”
“Comforting,” I drone, barely touching the canister in case it might explode.
Next, she yanks out a flashlight and beams it directly into my eyes. My retinas practically combust. “Waterproof, shockproof, bedazzle-proof. Works in crypts, caves, and the questionable basements of in-laws. Also doubles as a fist pack if you swing hard enough.”
