She presses a kiss to my forehead. “I hope so.”
“I know so.” Aksel’s deep rumble meets my ears a second before his body casts us both into shadow.
He stands tall, wearing the confidence of an alpha, but his protectiveness of us shines through in his concerned gaze. “Everything okay?”
“No,” I grumble. “This dress itches. Can’t I get changed?”
He shakes his head with a laugh. “Into your smelly hunting clothes?”
Our wolfish noses are particularly sensitive, but I’m certain the humans wouldn’t notice.
Still, I give an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll stay in the dress.”
Mother drops another kiss on my forehead. She looks beautiful in her violet-colored dress, her silver hair flowing around her face and shoulders.
As we make our way around the base of the tower, Father meets us there, holding his hand out for her.
The love between them is a tangible force that hits me hard.
Their connection will never break. No matter what battles they face.
I hang back a little, and when Aksel glances at me, I say, “I’ll be there in a minute.”
He catches up with Mother and Father, joining my brothers and the other guests at the front of the tower.
Charlotte will arrive soon, and then everything will change.
I find myself wishing it wouldn’t.
As fiercely as Mother and Father have watched over me and protected me, I’ve also protected them.
My family is my world.
If my brothers have a problem, then I have a problem. If they need help, I’m there.
After today… it all starts to change.
It doesn’t take me long to slip into the forest, finding a shadowed spot out of the light where I can take deep breaths and fix an expression on my face that says,I’m happy for you.
When I’m certain I’ve managed it, I prepare to head out into the light again.
Before I can take a step, my senses prickle.
I consider the nearby shadows, inhaling deeply, trying to pick out the various scents. Musky air, moss, a rabbit, and also?—
A woman steps forward through the shadows.
She has green eyes, auburn hair, and a dusting of freckles across her nose, along with a slight cleft in her chin.
She looks about Mother’s age, but she’s very thin, practically a whisp. She’s wearing a short-sleeved, leafy-green dress that stops at her knees and skims the tops of her brown boots.
Her appearance is extremely disarming, which only makes me distrustful, my eyes narrowing at her.
I’m certain I’ve never seen her before, but there’s something so damn familiar about her…
“Hello, Galeia,” she says. “Do you remember me?”
I remember her scent.
