Outside, snow has started to fall again in steady flakes that swirl and tap against the windows like the world outside is hitting rewind. I push to my feet and glance at the truck parked out front. It’s packed under a foot of white and won’t make the rest of the way up the mountain fast enough.
The fastest way is to shift.
The thought freezes me in place. Shifting means choosing. It means admitting that I want what I was told all those years ago I didn’t deserve. It means stating to the magick of the Winter Solstice and the Elders that I want a mate. That I want to make Emme mine in all possible ways.
I stare out at the line of tall, snow-covered trees. Somewhere beyond them, the festival waits—bright lights, music, Emme.
The wolf presses hard against my skin.
“If I do this, I can’t pretend anymore,” I whisper. “I’ll be announcing what I want.”
The pressure builds in my chest, the wolf’s heartbeat thundering through me, a low howl rising behind my ribs.
“If fate laughs in my face again, so be it.”
She is mine.
Emme deserves to know how I feel. She deserves to know that I love her, that I can’t imagine my life without her. She deserves everything.
I take one last breath of the cabin—the faint sugary sweetness still hanging in the air—and let go.
The shift tears through me. My heart hammers, bones stretching, skin pulling tight as heat floods every nerve. When I think I might break apart completely, the world sharpens. The scents, the sounds, the cold.
The wolf takes over. And we run.
CHAPTER 11
EMME
The festival isin full swing when I arrive. Lanterns hang from the trees, their golden light flickering against the snow. The clearing is packed with people and animals who’ve shifted into their true form—foxes, wolves, bears, stags—all pacing and circling as the pairing rites begin.
I weave through the crowd clutching the tin of honey cakes, my breath fogging in the cold.
“Gran!”
She’s standing near one of the long tables, wrapped in her heavy coat, her cheeks pink from the cold. The moment she sees me, she breaks into a smile.
“Honey cakes,” I say, handing her the tin, “just like you requested.”
“About time. I was starting to think we were going to break tradition after all these years. What kept you?”
“The snowstorm. I got…” I clear my throat, but my voice sounds strained around the ache tightening my throat. “…held up.”
Gran studies me for a long moment, her eyes narrowing the way they do when she’s reading more than I want her to. Then aslow, knowing smile curves her lips. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it wasn’t the storm that held you up.”
My heart stutters. “It was nothing,” I say too quickly, forcing a small laugh. “Just bad timing and worse weather.”
She hums like she doesn’t believe a word, but she doesn’t press. She just pats my cheek, her touch warm despite the cold. ““Nothing, hmm? We’ll see. I have a good feeling about tonight.”
“Gran,” I groan, but she only smiles, eyes twinkling, before turning to greet another member of our pack.
A wolf’s howl breaks through the chatter. It echoes through the trees and cuts straight through me. There’s no reason for my heart to leap the way it does. No reason for my eyes to sting with unshed tears. But then the scent hits. It’s faint but unmistakable, filling my nose, my head, my heart.
Clove. Pepper.West.
“It’s just my clothes,” I whisper. Just his scent clinging to me from the cabin, from the space we shared. That’s all I’ll ever have of him—a scent memory of a man who was never meant to be mine
I swallow hard and start walking, pushing past laughing, happy couples celebrating the Solstice. The snowmobile waits where I left it, dusted in snow. I’m almost to it when movement catches my eye.
