“I know.” I take a long sip of eggnog, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me. “I didn’t invite them. They just… show up.”
She’s grinning so wide it’s a miracle her face doesn’t crack. “Do you want them to show up?”
“Wren.”
“I’m just asking questions!”
“I’m on suppressants,” I mutter. “It’s not supposed to be this bad. Invisira’s clearly not working.”
“Then switch.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. I’ll go to the clinic this week and ask about Sensurex. Thea mentioned it once, but I wasn’t sure.”
“Oh, do it,” Wren says, waving her hand like she’s conducting a choir. “That’s what I was on before I?—”
“Got pregnant?” I say, laughing.
She smirks. “Exactly. Though, in my defense, I missed two doses and had three very determined Alphas in my house.”
“That’s not a defense.”
“Worked out for me,” she says, grinning. “Maybe you’re due for some chaos of your own.”
“Hard pass,” I say, though the image makes my cheeks warm again. “I’m barely holding it together as it is.”
She bumps her shoulder into mine. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
The music swells again. Someone’s started a dance circle near the stage. Laughter rings through the air, a few witches spin around a pirate and a werewolf, and it feels almost too bright, too alive.
I sip my drink slowly, watching, soaking it in. I even let myself enjoy the warmth, the lights, the sense that maybe things are okay for now.
Hours blur by in that haze of sound and motion. I talk to the mayor, to Mrs. Coldwell, to Mick (who insists I try his new pumpkin whiskey concoction, which I instantly regret).
The crowd thins a little after midnight, but the stragglers are still dancing when my body finally reminds me it’s been a long week. I’m exhausted. My feet ache, my head’s fuzzy from the noise and scent and everything else.
Wren catches me pulling on my coat near the door. “You heading out?”
“Yeah. My bed’s calling.”
“You want me to drive you?”
“I’ll walk,” I say. “It’s not far.”
She hugs me, her belly pressing soft against mine. “Call me when you get home so I know you didn’t get abducted by forest spirits.”
“I’ll text you, pumpkin.”
“Ha-ha.”
I slip outside. The night air is cold, crisp enough to sting. The street glows with leftover lantern light, orange and gold flickering across the snow-dusted pavement.
I’m halfway down the block when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Norah.”
I turn. Dorian stands a few paces back, coat collar turned up, hands in his pockets. His breath fogs in the cold.
“I can walk myself,” I say automatically.
