“I can’t make that decision for you.” Kirsten’s voice was firm but kind. “It went horribly wrong when I trusted him. Undoing what he did in my head fuckinghurt, the rebound was excruciating. But he supposedly learned from that. Healthy relationships require trust, and if you don’t trust him, this is probably a short-term thing, and that’s fine, but it means he doesn’t get into your head. If you want this to belong-term, if you believe it’s the kind of love that will last decades, I think you have to decide whether to — it’s crude, but the Southern saying is to decide whether to shit or get off the pot.”
Emmy snorted despite herself.
“Love requires trust,” Kirsten continued, “but that doesn’t mean you have to do everything at once. You can start with telepathy and work up to the big stuff.” She paused. “I didn’t want Lauren bonding to Gavin, but it’s worked out. The two are super-close, and I sleep in their home, which is nothing short of a miracle — me trusting my once-arch-enemy while I’m out and he’s awake. I think the question you have to ask yourself is whether you truly trust him to be your go-to person for the rest of your life. Whether you want to bond yourself to these two. No one can make that decision for you. It’s a leap, but you’re smart, and you know how to weigh the options.”
Emmy closed her eyes, letting the words sink in. “Also,” she said quietly, “if he hurts me, my dad will probably kill him.”
Kirsten’s laugh was sharp and genuine. “Oh yes. There’s that as well.”
They talked a while longer — about Lauren, about the strange peace Kirsten had found with her former enemy, about Emmy’s thesis work. When they finally hung up, Emmy sat with her phone in her lap, thinking.
Love requires trust.
You can start with telepathy and work up to the big stuff.
Decide whether you want to bond yourself to these two.
She thought about Spence’s face when Zander had blocked his power without question. About how Zander had orchestrated the Lupanar scene to give her exactly what she needed to claim her role. About how Zander treated her — not like she was something to control, but like a partner. An equal. A strong, intelligent woman.
She thought about Felix sayinglove means trusting someone with the parts of you that are scared.
Her shields were perfect. Impenetrable. Her mother’s masterwork.
But maybe perfection wasn’t what she needed anymore. Maybe she needed to be brave enough to let them in.
The thought settled in her chest, warm and terrifying at the same time.
Chapter 24
Two days later, Emmy stood in the Aurora Ballroom with a thermos of hot chicken soup, watching through the monitor as dark shapes streaked across the snow under the full moon’s glow. Security had a drone following them because even a pack of wolves isn’t always at the top of the apex predator ladder in this place.
She was happy the drone also had sound, because you could hear and see their joy even through the night-vision view. She could easily pick out Spence’s wolf by the grace of his gait, moving with the confidence of someone who led from a position of power. No matter he wasn’t the largest wolf, he was out front with the other wolves following. Even in this form, Zander’s power flowed through him.
Emmy had always been confident in her own power, but how would it feel to have the power of the grave flowingthrough her as well? Did she want that? If she was to fully bond with both of her men, she’d have to figure it out.
But first, she had to get up the nerve to talk to Zander about telepathy.
She focused on the monitor again, and checked her phone for the latest weather updates — negative thirty-two degrees. The kind of cold that would kill a human in minutes.
But the wolves reveled in it, racing and playing, occasionally stopping to howl at the moon before taking off again.
Emmy sipped from her thermos of hot chocolate, content to watch. The ballroom was in the low forties, but she was in several layers and was fine.
Outside, however, was too cold for her scaled dragon. It took thick fur to survive this kind of cold.
But even wolves didn’t stay out long, and after about forty minutes, they turned and headed back. When they neared, Emmy moved to wait by the airlock, thermos ready.
Spence came through first, ice crusted thick around his paws and lower legs, frost feathering up the fur of his hocks, chunks of frozen snow clinging to his chest and stomach like jagged armor, his muzzle rimed with frost that glittered under the lights. He shook hard the moment he cleared the threshold. Water droplets flew in a brief, sparkling cloud, and then he shifted mid-stride, human form emerging flushed and steaming, skin pink from the brutal cold, breath still pluming white in the warmer air.
“Cold?” she asked, already pouring soup into the thermos cap.
“Freezing,” he admitted, accepting it gratefully. He downed the entire serving in one long swallow, then grabbed the thermos and drank straight from it. “God, that’s perfect. Thank you.”
She handed him the sweatpants, hoodie, warm socks, and boots she’d brought up for him — soft, thick fabrics that still held the faint warmth of the dryer. “We need to stop by a first-floor bathroom before we hit the kitchen.”
He nodded, a flicker of heat in his eyes as understanding dawned: she was going to plug his ass in the privacy of an executive bathroom. She stretched up on her toes to kiss his cheek, lips lingering against the flush of cold still clinging to his skin, the dominant parts of her psyche purring at the way he leaned into the touch and yielded so beautifully.
Wolves come back to human starving, so she assured him, “I can smell your hunger. It won’t take long.”
