She shakes her head, the bangles at her wrist chiming. “If I go home, Aunt Etta will ask about the exam, and Damon will give me the disappointed face. I just can’t tonight. Feed me instead. Please.”
I’m surprised her older cousin is at her house. “Wait, Damon is staying with your aunt? What about his mom?”
“Aunt Nora is out of town for the rest of the month. Something about selling her scones in New York. And you know Damon is always all up in everyone’s business. He will never let me leave down a repeat semester.”
I laugh.
She has a point. Damon, or as everyone in town knows him, Sheriff Wilder, is known for being in everyone’s business… and somehow knows everything.
I think it has more to do with him being an Alpha circle warlock more than anything. It’s said that he uses his magic to anchor wards around the town, and I think that makes him a lot more invested in all of the townspeople… well, more than the average Joe.
“C’mon, babe. Let’s get some food,” I tell her.
We start walking, Thistle padding behind us, paws silent against the damp cobblestone. The lanterns that line the main street are flickering to life one by one, their light paintingeverything in gold and shadow. Storefronts glow soft and welcoming—Evermere Books still open, the window fogged with candlelight, and Brass Lantern Café shuttered for the night but still smelling faintly of sugar and cinnamon.
By the time we reach Hearthlight Tavern, the wind has picked up, swirling leaves across the square. The sign above the door creaks, firelight dancing in the windows.
Inside, warmth rushes over us like a spell: crackling hearth, chatter, the smell of roasted meat and sweet ale. The tavern is crowded but cozy, wooden tables pushed close, the walls covered in old maps and mismatched art. Someone’s enchanted the fire so it changes color with each pop—red to orange to deep sapphire.
Amara inhales deeply, a grin spreading across her face. “I swear Gideon’s ribs are the best thing in this entire county.”
I roll my eyes. “You mean Benny Moss’s ribs?”
Her grin widens, unrepentant. “Maybe I’m here for the pork ribs. Maybe I’m here for the bartender who calls metroubleevery time I walk in. Who’s to say?”
We find a booth near the back. It has initials carved into the table and a view of the fire. Thistle disappears underfoot, probably in search of crumbs or mice. Benny appears not long after, towel slung over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up, his forearms up for display, and in Amara’s case, ogling.
“Look what the storm dragged in,” he teases, leaning on the table. “Two of my favorite witches. What’ll it be?”
“Two ales, pork ribs, and fries,” Amara answers without hesitation. “And if you bring extra salt, I’ll tell you how devastatingly handsome you look.”
He laughs easily. “You always do, Amara.”
As he leaves, I shake my head, smiling. “You’re shameless.”
“That’s why you love me.” She props her chin in her hand, eyes glinting. “And admit it—you could use some harmless flirting in your life.”
I glance toward the corner of the tavern, where a couple sits pressed close, sharing a plate of ribs. The man’s thumb strokes lazy circles on the woman’s wrist, her smile all soft edges and light. Something in my chest twists, sharp and yearning.
Amara follows my gaze. “You’re thinking about that again, aren’t you?”
I nod, my throat tight. “I just… want that. Someone who looks at me like I’m worth knowing.”
Her lips curve wryly. “You and your romantic streak. You’d never survive in a poly pack. Too many people, too many emotions. You’d try to mother everyone and forget yourself.”
“Maybe.” I catch sight of the small, faded bite mark on my neck reflected in the polished surface. The sight makes my skin prickle.
“Not tonight,babe,” she murmurs.
“I wasn’t,” I lie. Of course I’m thinking about it. That bite mark is the reason no one in town asks me out.
It’s also all built on a lie.
“You were.”
I exhale. “Do you think it’s too late to submit our names for the matchmaking app?”
I’m talking about the TrueBond App. Developed by a semi-reputable Chicago firm with“Council-approved compatibility algorithms,” it supposedly combines personality profiles, scent data, and lunar alignment to find “your perfect pack balance.” Unbonded Omegas are encouraged to join the app as soon as they turn eighteen just for a chance for a happily ever after. This is because most Omegas have their first heat around that age.
