We moved along the edge of the clearing, our boots soft on the forest floor still damp from an afternoon rain. Acorn scooted ahead before turning back, waiting for us to catch up.
The canopy filtered moonlight into silver patches across the ground, turning everything otherworldly. Somewhere in thedistance an owl hooted, low and mournful, answered by another further off. The air smelled rich, like turned earth and growing things and that particular scent of night in the forest I’d never found words for.
Victoria’s hand warmed mine. She didn’t pull away or make it awkward. Just walked beside me like this was something we did. Like we’d been doing it for years instead of only weeks.
Maybe we had been, in a way. It just took us a while to notice.
She stopped, her attention caught by something on a nearby trunk. I recognized the look. Her notebook appeared from her pocket before I could comment. The pen lifted, hovering at the ready.
“Luminescent moss,” she said, leaning closer without letting go of my hand. “The growth pattern suggests seasonal variation in light output. Probable correlation with temperature fluctuation and ambient magical saturation. If I could isolate the?—”
Stopping, she tucked the notebook away. Her face colored.
I kept hold of her hand and traced my thumb across her knuckles.
She looked up at me, searching for judgment she wouldn’t find.
“You were saying something about ambient magical saturation?” I said.
“It’s not important.”
“It is if you think it is.”
She studied my face for a moment. “You don’t find my constant documentation annoying?”
“I find it very you.” I kept my thumb moving across her skin. “Which means I don’t find it annoying at all.”
Her expression softened. She didn’t pull her notebook back out, but the tension in her shoulders eased.
Acorn scampered closer, his tail high and bushy. He chittered something that made Victoria’s mouth twitch.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“That wolves and witches wandering under stars should know the forest sees everything and tells no tales.” She paused, amusement flickering across her face. “He’s feeling poetic tonight.”
“The forest can mind its own business.”
She laughed softly. “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”
We walked further, past the main residences toward the older section of the compound. The trees here were massive, their trunks wide enough that it took twenty grown wolves standing fingertip to fingertip to circle them. Lights glowed in carved windows high above. Pack members settling in for the night.Mypack. Safe and home.
For now.
I shoved the thought away and focused on Victoria’s hand in mine. She studied the forest like she was cataloging it and appreciating it at the same time. A loose strand of hair had come free again. I’d started looking for it, this small detail that belonged to her and no one else.
I stopped walking and reached for it, tucking it behind her ear. My fingers lingered on her jaw, tracing the line of it. Her skin was soft and warm under my touch.
She looked up at me, though neither of us spoke. The moment stretched, filled with all the things we’d been learning to say to each other without words. This had stopped being temporary somewhere along the way. Her eyes reflected the orange glow of the fungi. She was so damn beautiful it made my chest ache.
Footsteps broke through the quiet.
The rhythm was off in a way that made my wolf surge forward, alert and tracking.
My hand tightened on Victoria’s as Kirk emerged from the tree line. His face told me everything before he opened his mouth. In thirteen years, I’d never seen him like this. Kirk didn’t get afraid. He got angry or determined or coldly efficient, but I’d never seen fear on his face until now.
“Alpha.” His voice came out steady, but his scent gave him away. Sweat with something sharp underneath. Panic, barely controlled. “I… It’s horrible.”
“What happened?”
