Chapter 1 — Rhiannon
Today’s prestigious mission for Commander of the Guard: Retrieve the old belongings of your ex’s new mate. And they wonder why I’ve been drinking.
I pace as Akila fiddles with the apartment door, tongue poking between her lips in concentration.
Akila’s nose wrinkles. “I hate how everything reeks in the Outer Lands.” Her chestnut waves fall forward as she leans closer to the lock. Her shoulders draw up, spine straightening, the leather of her guard uniform creaking slightly. “How do humans live with all these chemicals burning their noses?”
Akila is not wrong. The hallway smells of musty carpet, microwaved food, and synthetic cleaners — the nauseating cocktail that defines human dwellings.
“It’s not that bad. Intriguing, even.” Branson shifts his massive shoulders, dark hair pulled back in its usual tight knot. His deep brown eyes scan the hallway with practiced vigilance. “You just have to appreciate that it’s a different culture.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Can you open the lock or not?”
She scowls slightly. “Of course I can, but if we’re in a hurry, Branson can just break it down.”
Branson doesn’t take his eyes off the hallway. “No, it’ll draw too much attention.”
My wolf paces restlessly beneath my skin, uncomfortable with the foreign scents and sounds of the human world. Cars honk in the distance. A television blares through thin walls nearby. The stench of the sweat of too many humans living in close quarters hangs in the air.
This is beneath me.Being reduced to a glorified delivery service because our pregnant Luna is feeling sentimental and wants some trinkets from her old life. I should be preparing security protocols for the upcoming summit, not fetching stuffed animals in the human world.
“I just want to get this over with and get back to Kortan before nightfall.” I turn away from the smells and the conversation both. “We’ve got more important things to worry about than fetching junk for Thea.”
Akila pauses and exchanges a loaded glance with Branson. “You meanLuna Thea.”
“Yes, of course.” I stiffen at the correction. “LunaThea.” This mission is already getting to me.
The lock clicks.
“Got it!” Akila stands up and grins at me.
“Thank Goddess,” I say.
“After you, Commander.” Akila motions me forward and I step through the doorway. She follows on my heels while Branson brings up the rear, clicking the lock into place behind us.
There’s a faint lingering trace of Luna Thea’s scent that confirms we’re in the right place, that distinctive blend ofwildflowers and honey now nearly smothered by months of emptiness. I’m struck by how tiny the space is, most of it taken up by a small living area with a ratty-looking couch draped in clothing and an even smaller adjoining cooking area.
Dust motes dance in the light of the setting sun streaming through half-drawn blinds, highlighting the worn patches on the furniture. Letters sit in a pile on the small dining table, their edges wrinkled from humidity. A short hallway leads to the bedroom and bath. This whole place could fit four times over in Thea’s chambers back at Kortan.
“What exactly are we looking for again?” Akila picks up a dusty picture frame, examining it with mild disgust.
I roll my eyes this time. I’ve already repeated this to her three times. “A ceramic cat paw print, a one-eyed stuffed bear, and a purple box of photos.”
Akila grins. “The Luna of a Lycan pack is sentimental about a ceramic paw print of a dead feline. Don’t you find that funny?” She giggles to herself.
“Less talking, more searching.” I scan the cluttered living room, the walls already pressing in. “Akila, check the bedroom. Branson and I will search the living area.”
Akila tosses the frame back onto the table with a clatter. She snaps to attention with a mock salute, saying, “Yes,Commander,” before disappearing down the short hallway.
I move methodically through the living room, lifting magazines and shifting aside stacks of mail. The apartment feels like a time capsule of Thea’s human life. A life she abandoned for Xander.For the position in my pack that should have been—
I cut off that thought before it can fully form.
My gaze catches on a purple box tucked on a shelf between some worn books. “Found a purple box,” I announce, moving toward it.
Branson’s large frame suddenly blocks my path, his broad shoulders filling the narrow space between the couch and bookshelf. The unexpected proximity makes my wolf bristle.
“Do you mind?” I scowl up at him.
