Junie groaned again and pulled the pillow over her face.
She was so screwed.
The day passedin a haze of distraction. Junie spent the morning at her shop—still closed for repairs, still smelling faintly of char and broken glass—trying not to think about Leo Castellan and failing spectacularly. Every time she looked at the empty shelf where her grandmother’s book should be, she remembered his promise.
We’ll get it back.
Said like a vow. A commitment he had no intention of breaking. She’d believed him. That was the terrifying part.
At 6:47 p.m.,Junie stood outside the door to Avine’s suite and seriously considered making a run for it.
She could hear voices inside. Laughter. The clink of glasses. Her friends were already assembled, and in approximately thirty seconds, they were going to want to know everything.
Everything.
Including the parts Junie wasn’t sure she understood herself.
The door swung open before she could flee. Avine stood in the doorway, dark hair loose around her shoulders, wearing one of those soft sweaters that made her look like a particularly elegant librarian. Her expression held knowing amusement.
“You’re hovering.”
“I’m not hovering. I’m gathering my thoughts.”
“You’ve been gathering your thoughts for three minutes. Cassia assured Narla you’d bolt.” Avine stepped aside, gesturing her in. “Don’t give her the satisfaction.”
Junie squared her shoulders and walked into the wolf-mate’s very tastefully decorated suite.
Avine’s rooms at the Siren’s Rest occupied the entire east corner of the third floor—a sprawling space transformed from dusty storage into comfortable elegance. Overstuffed couches faced a fireplace burning with witchfire in shades of blue and green. Candles from Narla’s shop lined the windowsills, their flames responding to the emotional temperature of the room. A low table held an impressive array of wine bottles, cheese plates, and what appeared to be an entire bakery’s worth of Dahlia’s pastries.
Cassia was sprawled across one couch, sea-glass eyes bright with anticipation. Dahlia perched on the other, Marzipan curled in her lap, both watching Junie with identical expressions of patient curiosity. Narla sat in the armchair by the fire, serene as ever, Ember the owl dozing on her shoulder.
“She didn’t bolt.” Cassia sounded disappointed. “You owe me five dollars, Narla.”
“I said she’d come inside eventually. There was no time limit.” Narla’s smile was gentle. “Hello, Junie. You look… interesting.”
“Is that code for ‘you look like you haven’t slept’?” Junie dropped onto the couch next to Cassia, accepting the wine glassAvine pressed into her hands. “Because I haven’t. Slept, I mean. Not really.”
“We know.” Dahlia’s voice was soft, her sharp eyes missing nothing. “Eat this.” She pushed a plate toward Junie—cinnamon rolls drizzled with frosting and dusted with edible glitter. “It’s not enchanted. Probably.”
Junie took one. The first bite flooded her mouth with sweetness and the faint tingle of kitchen magic—comfort and the inexplicable urge to tell the truth.
“Dahlia.”
“Sorry.” Dahlia didn’t look sorry at all. “The surge has been making my charms a bit enthusiastic. But it’ll help you relax.”
“Help me relax, or help me spill all my secrets?”
“Is there a difference tonight?”
Junie took another bite anyway. She’d come here to talk, hadn’t she? Might as well have magical pastry assistance.
“So.” Cassia sat up, curling her long legs beneath her. Outside the window, the evening sky flickered with heat lightning that definitely hadn’t been in the forecast. “Tell us everything. Start from the beginning. Leave nothing out.”
“The beginning of what?”
“Don’t play dumb. It’s unbecoming.” Cassia’s grin turned sharp. “You went on a date with the sexy lion alpha. Spill.”
Junie took a long drink of wine. Set down her glass. Looked at the four faces watching her with varying degrees of patience.
