Sienna
Staringup at the moon used to be my favorite pastime. Revyn and I would sit near the fire and count the stars in the sky—one for every hour I have yet to give you.
I shiver in the frosty air and wrap my blanket tighter around me. The balcony off my room may not have a perfect view of the moon, but it’s close enough to make me miss the past.
And remember how in the hells we got here in the first place.
I can’t blame Revyn. Not entirely. He tried to warn me before we approached the first pack, but I was too excited at the prospect of a new home to listen to anything he had to say. After a while, the rejections became routine. What was another moon cycle or two of traveling if my best friend was by my side?
Again and again, we were turned away the moment we stepped into pack territory, and again and again, we kept coming back, beating our heads against a wall I was too stubborn to see.
No one was going to accept us into their pack because of the one I came from—and the one that Revyn willingly left behind. He’s never mentioned regretting his decision to leave pack society, and the more I linger inside these castle walls, the more I wonder if he was right to leave it all behind.
Watching my lover openly flirt with other women makes me want to scream. I can’t imagine dating within a pack and learning to move on with your life after a breakup.
There’s a subtleclickto my right, and I curve my neck to glance at the balcony beside mine.
The air freezes in my lungs.
Alistair Dire’s gaze flicks to mine for a half second before he sighs, producing a thin roll of parchment from his pocket before igniting the end with a sparker. Inhaling deeply, he ignores me in favor of staring up at the moon.
A wolf howls in the distance, and two more respond in kind. The fuller the moon gets, the more shifters are out burning off excess energy. I spot a fox flicking its tail on the snowy grounds below, quickly chased by a doe and what looks like a boar, the three of them frolicking like a happy little family.
It makes me ache for the pack I lost.
Alistair suddenly reaches across the railing and shoves the burning roll in my face. “Take a hit,” he murmurs, avoiding my gaze. “It’ll help.”
I sniff its smoke and wrinkle my nose. It smells like burnt pine sap. “What is it?”
“Something the witches put together. They sell it at a premium, too.” He brings the unlit end to his lips and inhales deeply, then offers it back to me. “It’ll help with—” His brows pinch as he exhales a stream of smoke. “Whatever the fuck is going on inside your head.”
With a glare, I take the roll and copy him, my eyes watering as soon as the smoke hits my lungs. “Gods!” I cough as it burns, then cough some more. “Thisis supposed to help?” I throw the roll at him, its embers sparking as they hit his bare chest.
I stare at the broad expanse of muscle for longer than I intend.
“Give it a minute,” he murmurs, his voice deep and slow. As he relights the roll, he studies my face. “You might need to take a bigger hit. Hold it in this time.”
“I amnotdoing that again.”
He shrugs and takes another hit. “Suit yourself.”
We settle into amicable silence, which feels like a goddamn miracle. I suddenly regret coming out here or letting Gemma convince me to brave my own room for once. Ever since Revyn?—
I wince as I remember that night. I haven’t been able to sleep in my bed without thinking of him.
“Give me that,” I grumble, reaching over the railing and grabbing Alistair’s hand. I wrench the roll from his fingertips and take the biggest pull I can, which isn’t much, honestly. As I cough up the smoke, Alistair smiles like he’s won a bet I didn’t agree to. “What?” I snap, shivering as a breeze whips through my nightclothes. “I did exactly what you said. I held it in.”
“For two seconds.”
I don’t have an excuse that I like, so I hold the roll hostage. He lifts an eyebrow as I take another puff, deliberately avoiding giving it back to him. The tension in my shoulders eases, as does the brightest hues of the moonlight. Everything feels...softer. The agitation in my chest lessons the longer I stand here.
“Are you going to give that back?”
“No.”
“I didn’t take you as greedy.”
“Yeah, well.” I blow out what little smoke I managed to inhale. “Wild wolves are selfish bastards.” I point at myself. “Including yours truly.” The sentiment kickstarts my emotions again, and I frown, my eyebrows knitting together. It’s bullshit, really, that someone I never met started a rumor about wild wolves that I can’t escape, no matter how far or how fast I run.
