The ceiling of my bedroom at the cabin stared back at me, and for one disorienting second, both realities existed at once. Solomon’s warmth against my chest. The cold pillow beneath my head. Candlelight. Morning gray.
Then the present won, and I was alone in a bed that felt too big.
Rain drummed against my window.
Realrain. The same rhythm as the dream. Yesterday was a sunny day so I was surprised it was raining.
I turned my head and watched the droplets race down the glass, pulse still running too fast, skin still tingling where his lips had pressed against my knuckles.
That wasn’t just a dream. That was a memory. Another fragment from my forgotten week, surfacing in my sleep.
We almost…
I pressed my face into the pillow and screamed into the cotton. Because apparently my past self had zero chill and my present self was going to have to deal with the consequences.
After a shower and several minutes of aggressive self-talk about emotional composure, I pulled on leggings and an oversized cardigan and headed downstairs.
The living room stopped me on the last step.
Solomon stood over Percy with a log raised above his head, gripping it with both hands, winding up for a full swing. Percy sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, chin tilted upward, eyes closed, bracing for impact with the calm acceptance of a man who’d made peace with his choices.
What the hell are they doing this time?
“Is this some kind of lycan tradition too?”
Both heads snapped toward me.
My gaze dropped to the coffee table. A chess set sat between them, mid-game, half the pieces scattered off the board and onto the rug. One rook appeared to have been thrown into the fireplace.
Solomon spoke first. “He asked for it.”
I pulled the cardigan tighter. The rain had turned the cabin cold, and the fireplace crackled behind them, filling the room with the smell of burning pine. I raised an eyebrow.
Solomon sighed and sat down. He set the log on the floor beside the couch and leaned back, crossing his arms.
“I told him to stop challenging me over chess because he never wins, but he insists he’s figured out how to beat me now. I called him hard-headed. He bet he could take a hit on the head since he’s hard-headed anyway.” Solomon’s delivery stayed perfectly flat. “So I’m going to hit him.”
I stared at them. Mouth open. No words available.
Percy grinned from the floor. “I can actually take it. Lycan skull.”
Oh these doofuses couldn’t be left alone even for a minute.
“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” I crossed to the couch and dropped onto the cushion beside Solomon, tucking my legs beneath me. “And I dated a man who once tried to open a beer bottle with his teeth and broke three of them.”
Percy’s grin stretched wider. “Did it work?”
“Not the point.” I gestured at the log. “Put that in the fireplace where it belongs.”
Solomon set the log down obediently with the silent protest of a man who’d been denied a perfectly reasonable request. Percy collected the scattered chess pieces off the rug, replacing them on the board in what I was fairly certain were not their original positions, and settled into the armchair across from us. He draped one leg over the armrest and crossed his arms behind his head.
“You’re childish,” I told them both. Despite the fondness bleeding through my voice that I didn’t bother hiding.
These men, these supposedly magical slash allegedly supernatural men, fought over chess and threatened each other with firewood. My life had become absurd in ways I hadn’t prepared for.
“Well, in my defense, I am the youngest,” Percy said.
“Really?” I glanced between them. “How old are you?”
