Truffles snorts.“Bloody good job, you git.”
“Sorry, Nan.” I put my arm around her shoulders and squeeze. “I’m sure Grandpa would have been very happy to see it himself. I only asked because it’s important.”
Nan frowns. “Why?”
I plop down on the bench, chewing my inner lip. She won’t like my reasons at all, but I’ve always been honest with her. She was the first person I came out to. It was easy, what with her being bisexual, whereas my parents are straight as arrows. Well, maybe my mum’s a crooked arrow. She did snog quite a few girls in high school.
“Arlo?”
I clear my throat. “So, itisfor a potion.”
Nan’s eyes narrow. “What kind of potion?”
I shrug, trying to appear blasé, though my racing heart tells another story. “The Norse people used them in many rituals. They bloomed only under a full moon, so they were sacred to the wolves. Supposedly, the wolves consumed many of them, so they built up a tolerance for it. That’s likely why the flowers went extinct. Or almost extinct.”
“Arlo, what kind of potion are you making?”
Shit. I don’t like the accusatory tone of her voice. I hold my head high, refusing to cower. If I can let go of my grudge against shifters, so can my family. “Ulfhednar from an Alpha bloodline are at risk of going berserk if they can’t find a mate. For so long, our society believed it was an unavoidable fate. So many berserkers have been put down over the centuries, but this potion could change everything!”
“How?”
I lurch to my feet, too antsy to stay still. “The calming properties of the lunar flower, when combined with other ingredients and administered in the proper dosage, could cure berserkism! Archaeologists have found traces of such potions in the ruins of Norse villages. The Council recently published a paper with notes from ancient alchemists that potions were used to calm those in a berserker state.”
“And you think you can make it?”
“I know I can!”
My excitement putters out when Nan twists her fingers together. “The only way you’d know for certain is if you forced a berserking wolf to take the potion. I would hate to see you get hurt again.”
The memory of gnashing fangs and furious snarls makes bile crawl up my throat. I grip my arm, feeling the scar tissue beneath my cotton shirt.
I swallow with some effort. “I-it would be worth it.”
Nan takes a step back. “No, dear.”
My heart sinks. “Nan—”
She shakes her head. “I won’t be the reason you get hurt. Ulfhednar can’t ever be trusted.”
“It isn’t their fault they lose control!” I insist, desperate for her to look past her prejudices and see what is at stake.
“I won’t discuss this anymore.” She throws up her hands and turns away. “Please leave.”
Disappointment weighs heavily on me as I walk out into the garden. The ivy grows back over the doors, sealing me out. I’m closer than ever before to making that potion, to preventing so much more suffering and death.
Sensing eyes on me, I stop and turn toward the woods. The wolf remains just beyond the periphery of our wards. Why won’t he just go?
My fingers curl at my sides. “You reject me, but you can’t seem to stay away, can you? Make up your mind, Gunnar.”
The wolf watches me unblinkingly, his eyes a shade of silver that takes my breath away. The moment I laid eyes on him, I felt a pull toward him. Grumpy as he was, I’d been possessed by the inexplicable urge to poke and prod away at his layers to see what I could find.
Right away, I’d noted how protective he was of his family. Endearing, even though it was a tad inconvenient at the time. Foolishly, I’d used up too much magic whilst helping his brother. I remember passing out and waking up to find those eyes inches from my own, strong arms holding me close.
He’d looked more wolf than man, even in his human form. Fangs sharp in his mouth. Eyes wide and looking at me the way he might look at prey.
I should have been terrified. He’d bared his teeth, not to harm me but to protect me from his own family in my weakened state.
I’d never felt safer. I’d known with soul-deep certainty that I could trust him because my magic, free from the glamour I’d locked it behind, had sparked in my chest and ignited a yearning in my soul only he could quench.
