I wonder what he wants to speak about.
As I stand on the porch with my arms folded, I catch the flickering of a light out of the corner of my eye and wonder if Gwen is back home.
She wasn't at the meeting because Arthur had taken her out for supper after getting up the courage to ask her out. She'd been nervous about accepting, especially after what happened to me, but I assured her that I was fine, and she should go.
It would be her first date, anyway, and after everything she's been through, she deserves a moment of respite where she doesn't have to worry about the darkness that lurks out there.
When another light in her cottage flickers, I decide to go over and check up on her. At least it'll give me something to distract myself from the restlessness of waiting for Hunter to return from the perimeter check.
As soon as I step onto Gwen's porch, the door opens, as if she were expecting me.
She grabs my good arm and pulls me inside, sighing with relief when she closes the door.
“Gwen? What's going on?” I chuckle nervously as I frown at her behavior. “How did your date go?”
Gwen hurries to the kitchen, and I follow her there.
“Would you like some tea? I bet you do. Witches love some good tea on a night like this. I know I do when I have so many thoughts to run through. Which isn't often, but—”
“Gwen!” I interrupt her babbling with a knowing titter, taking the kettle from her trembling hands and nodding at her to take a seat at the table. “Breathe, okay? And then, tell me all about your date.”
Gwen takes my instructions and takes a deep breath, then proceeds to tell me about her date.
“He's such a good guy, D, but I'm afraid that I don't like him the way I should,” she says after going on about what a perfect gentleman Arthur was to her on their date. “I mean…I've never dated before, and I'm not surehowI should be feeling. I know he really likes me, and I do like him, but just not in the way that gives me butterflies in my tummy. You're married. What is it like, being in love?”
“L—love…?” My finger hovers at the kettle switch, and I lift my eyes to stare blankly at the wall tile in front of me, realization dawning on me as Hunter's face appears in my imagination, the picture of perfect charm smiling at me as if the white tile is a canvas that my mind paints.
I love Hunter.
Without the dark thoughts clouding my mind, the energy gone from my body, I'm able to think clearly, and that's when I realize I'm in love with Hunter.
I always have been, and the thought curls my lips into a smile.
“There is no reasonable explanation,” I tell Gwen. “Nothing that makes sense logically, anyway. It's a feeling, much like magic.Especiallylike magic.”
“That sounds magical…” Gwen whispers, and I glance over my shoulder to see her staring out into space as if she's in deep thought.
“When you find it, you'll know,” I say, discovering that I've already found it, and I become more restless at the thought that Hunter wants to talk when he's back tonight.
“I don't think I've found it with Arthur,” Gwen sighs forlornly. “I mean…he's pretty cool, he's a handsome guy, but it just doesn't feel magical. I'm just scared of letting him down.”
“Oh, Arthur can handle anything,” I assure her with a click of my tongue. “That's why he'll be this pack's beta. Besides, itwasyour first date. Ever. You know, I've never asked how old you are…”
“Twenty-three.”
“Ah, I remember that age. It was when I first met Hunter. Back then, I didn't know he was my fated mate, but the attraction was instant. You see, for werewolves, it's different,” I explain, glancing at Gwen when I notice how lost she is in her thoughts, probably fantasizing about what true love feels like.
After everything that's happened, there's one thing I'm sure of—fate wasn't wrong for leading me to Hunter when I can't help but love the man for who he is.
“The fated mate bond is sacred for werewolves, and doesn't happen to everyone. But when you find the one you're meant to mate with, it's different.Hewill make you feel different. Who knows? Maybe you're meant to be a werewolf's mate, but maybe it's just not Arthur, and he'll understand. We all do.”
The kettle clicks when it's done boiling, but Gwen remains silent, prompting me to turn.
What I see next stuns me, my face paling in horror.
Gwen is still seated at the kitchen table, frozen, her eyes as black as the veins rippling across her neck, her arms, and extending to her fingers.
“Gwen?” I call out, but she doesn't move.
