“Obsessive monitoring.”
“Professional observation with personal investment.”
She laughed, and the sound felt easy. Natural. Like laughter was supposed to feel—not a luxury she couldn’t afford, but a simple joy she’d finally remembered how to access.
She leaned her head against his shoulder and watched the coastline blur past. There was nothing that needed saying—not right now. He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips anyway, the gesture easy and certain.
“Beck’s been planning a party for a week,” he said finally.
“A week?”
“He had a betting pool on when we’d finally figure it out.” Wyatt’s mouth curved. “He’s been waiting for this since the day you walked into my station.”
“Everyone had a betting pool on us.”
“Sue Tidewell is insufferably smug about it.”
“Sue Tidewell is insufferably smug about everything.”
He laughed, and she leaned across to kiss his cheek, and the road stretched ahead toward Haven Shores and the future they’d finally let themselves imagine.
WYATT
Wolf Moon Brewery was packed.
Every supernatural in Haven Shores seemed to have crowded into Beck’s family establishment—wolves and lions and bears, witches and the occasional dragon. The dark wood interior glowed with fairy lights someone had strung along the rafters. The back booth permanently reserved for the alphas had been commandeered for guest-of-honor seating.
Wyatt stood near the bar, nursing a beer he didn’t particularly want, and watched his mate across the room.
Narla was talking to Cassia, her hands moving as she explained something. Probably the mechanics of her truth candles—Cassia’s storm energy was crackling with interest, lightning flickering through her hair. Junie had joined them, adding commentary that made both women laugh.
Narla’s face was open. Unguarded. The mask she’d worn for six years had finally dropped, revealing the woman beneath—fierce and warm and full of a joy she’d forgotten how to feel.
She was beautiful. She’d always been beautiful. But this was different.
This was his mate. Happy. Free. Finally, completely free.
The bond hummed at the edge of his awareness—that constant knowledge of exactly where she was.
“Stop brooding.” Delos appeared at his elbow, dragon-warm and annoyingly cheerful. “This is a celebration. Brooding is forbidden.”
“I’m not brooding.”
“You’re standing in a corner staring at your mate with an expression that would terrify small children.” Delos flagged down Beck for another beer. “That’s textbook brooding.”
“I’m observing.”
“You’re obsessing.” But Delos was grinning. “Not that I blame you. She’s remarkable. The way she faced that thing—” He shook his head. “I’ve seen dragons with less courage.”
Wyatt didn’t argue. He’d watched Narla step forward with nothing but a candle and her voice, watched her strip a centuries-old monster of its glamour through sheer force of will. Watched her reclaim the voice she’d lost when Derren destroyed her world.
Remarkable didn’t begin to cover it.
“She’s everything.” The words came out rough.
Delos laughed. “At least you got there eventually. Some people never figure it out.”
Across the room, Narla looked up. Her eyes found his immediately—that bond awareness, that instinctive knowledge of exactly where he was.
