Despite everything—the tears, the grief, all of it—Narla laughed.
“I will. I promise.”
She glanced toward Wyatt, found him watching with an expression that made her chest ache. Patient. Protective. Ready to wait as long as she needed.
He’d been waiting for her for years. First, from suspicion. Then from love. Now, from understanding that some moments belonged to family alone.
When she finally crossed to him, his arms opened without hesitation. She stepped into his embrace, let him hold her while the last of the tension drained away.
“Okay?” His voice was soft against her hair.
“Better than okay.” She pressed her face to his chest. “They know now. They understand. And they want to meet you properly—without crisis interrupting.”
“Interrogation?”
“Definitely interrogation. My mother has questions.”
“I can handle questions.”
“She’s going to ask about your intentions.”
“My intention is to love you for the rest of my life.” His arms tightened. “Think that’ll satisfy her?”
“I think that’ll make her cry again.” Narla smiled against his shirt. “She’s been waiting for me to find someone since Niccolas died. She’ll be insufferably happy.”
“Good.” He dropped a kiss into her hair. “Let’s give her something to be happy about.”
FORTY-SEVEN
NARLA
Later, driving back to Haven Shores with Wyatt’s hand warm on her leg, Narla thought about candles.
Her magic hadn’t faded after the battle. The surge-amplified gift remained—every candle she made still showed truth, still revealed fated mates to anyone who lit the flame. The range had changed too: where her standard candles had always required the recipient to hold the flame or stand within reach of it, the surge had extended her truth-revealing gift further, to anyone present in the room when the wick caught.
The phenomenon had thrown Haven Shores into chaos for weeks. Relationships questioned, futures revealed, uncomfortable truths rising to the surface. The lioness and her husband had parted quietly; Junie said it had been coming long before any candle confirmed it. That was the thing about truth—it didn’t break what was solid. It only revealed what was already there.
But sitting in the passenger seat, watching the coastline blur past, Narla finally understood what the gift meant.
Not a curse. Not an accident. A purpose.
She and Wyatt had spent six years circling each other. Six years of denied attraction, missed opportunities, walls builtfrom fear and suspicion. If not for the surge, they might have continued that dance forever—too stubborn to reach for what they wanted, too afraid to admit the truth.
Her candles could help others avoid that fate. Could show people their matches before years slipped away. Could cut through denial and fear and give them the clarity she’d almost missed.
“You’re quiet.” Wyatt’s thumb traced circles on her thigh.
“Thinking about candles.”
“Dangerous territory.”
“I know what I’m supposed to do with them now.” She turned to look at him—her mate, her claimed, the man who’d spent years investigating her because his panther had known what his mind refused to accept. “Help people find what we almost didn’t.”
“We found it eventually.”
“Eventually.” She smiled. “After years of you stalking me.”
“Surveillance.”
