“Maybe?” Hux’s voice was sharp. “We’re betting everything onmaybe?”
“We’re betting on the combination.” Aero’s calm cut through the rising tension. “Potion and candle. Chemical glamour-stripping and magical truth-revealing. Even if one fails, the other may succeed. And if both work?—”
“He’s exposed.” Theo nodded slowly. “Vulnerable. And then the dragons?—”
“Burn him to ash.” Delos’s smile showed too many teeth. “My absolute pleasure.”
The council continued. Plans were refined. Contingencies established. By the time they finished, the brewery was empty except for their group, and the moon hung high over Haven Shores.
Theo stood, pulling Avine to her feet. “We finalize positions in the morning. Everyone rests tonight.”
The others filed out in pairs. Leo with Junie, their heads bent close. Aero and Cassia, the elder’s expression thoughtful. Hux alone, his shoulders tight with the weight of protecting his town.
Wyatt caught Narla’s hand as they walked to his truck.
“You were incredible in there.” His fingers laced through hers. “The candle information—that was exactly what we needed.”
“It might not work.”
“It’ll work.” He opened the passenger door for her, waited until she was settled before circling to the driver’s side. “Your magic has been building toward this. The surge, the mate visions, all of it. This is what you were meant to do.”
She wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that years of fear and hiding had been leading somewhere, that the magic she’d suppressed and denied had been building toward this.
The drive back to the cabin passed in comfortable silence. His hand rested on her thigh—warm, grounding, a point of contact that steadied her racing thoughts.
When they pulled up to the cabin, Wyatt parked but didn’t move to get out. Instead, he turned to face her, his expression unreadable in the darkness.
“Narla.”
“Yeah?”
For a long moment, he just looked at her. The silence stretched, heavy with emotions he refused to acknowledge.
Then he reached over, cupped the back of her neck, and pulled her into a kiss that stole every thought from her head. Deep and thorough and desperate, like he was trying to memorize the taste of her.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
“What was that for?” she managed.
“Because I wanted to.” His voice was rough.
Her throat tightened with something too big to name—something that might break her open if she looked at it too closely.
“Wyatt—”
“I know.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “We don’t have to say it. I just needed you to feel it.”
She didn’t ask what he needed her to feel. She thought maybe she understood anyway.
They went inside. Made their way to his bedroom—their bedroom now, she supposed. Undressed each other slowly, learning the territory all over again. When he slid inside her, when her back arched off the mattress and his name fell from her lips, she felt something shift between them.
Not just want anymore. A deeper truth. Something that scared her almost as much as Derren did.
After, tangled in his sheets, his heartbeat steady under her ear, Narla stared at the ceiling and tried to imagine what came next.
THIRTY
WYATT
