“See that you do,” Silas says, and then the line goes dead.
I toss my phone onto the nightstand, my hands shaking. The room spins around me, and I lie back down, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. What the hell am I supposed to do now?
The sheets feel too tight, too constricting. I kick them off, my skin crawling with restless energy. My thoughts keep circling back to Caroline, to the way she looked at me, to the way she felt in my arms. Is this what they want for her? To be matched up with some stranger through an app, bonded to someone she doesn’t know, doesn’t love?
The thought makes me sick.
I sit up, my bare feet hitting the cool floor. The house is quiet, too quiet. I can hear my own breathing, the frantic beat of my heart. I need to get out of here, need to do something, anything, to stop thinking about her.
But where can I go? What can I do?
My phone buzzes again, and I grab it, my heart leaping into my throat. Maybe it’s her. Maybe she’s thinking about me too.
But it’s just Noah.
“Rift activity’s spiking again,” he says, his voice tight with urgency. “We’ve got another surge coming. And this one feels different. Bigger.”
I’m already pulling on my jeans and my shirt. “I’m on my way.”
The lie about feeling under the weather evaporates in the face of real danger. Because that’s who I am. That’s what I do. I protect this town, no matter what.
Even if it means facing the one person I’m trying so hard to forget.
I grab my keys, my jacket, my badge. My hand hesitates on the doorknob, my mind racing. What if I see her? What if I have to talk to her?
What if I can’t stay away?
I shake my head, pushing the thoughts aside. There’s no time for that now. The Rift is waiting. And so is my duty.
I open the door and step out into the gray morning, ready for whatever comes next.
Potion for Soothing:
Earl Gray, Chamomile and honey. Drink when the heart is heavy.
Ibarely set the bag of cat food on the kitchen counter before my phone buzzes. Thistle immediately abandons me for the bag, sniffing at it.
“Hello?” My voice comes out rough, scratchy.
“Caroline? It’s June. I hate to call you in, but we’re swamped. There’s been some kind of surge, and Tessa—our new apprentice—is completely flustered. We could really use an extra pair of hands.”
“A surge? Is everything okay?”
“The wards held, but everyone’s coming in for calming draughts and protective charms.” She pauses. “I know you’re probably not feeling great after last night, but…”
“No, no, it’s fine. I can come in.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re a lifesaver.”
We hang up, and I reach for the mug waiting on the kitchen counter. The tea inside is lukewarm now. I take a sip, the familiar blend of chamomile, vervain, and something else—something secret—coating my tongue.
It's the aftercare blend, a special concoction June and August keep stocked for the town's Omegas. It's designed to help us after… well, after getting fucked. It soothes the ache of a knot and helps our bodies process the surge of magic that comes with an Alpha's touch.
And, if the whispers are true, it works a little like Plan B, something to do with the moonwort and the way it interacts with Omega physiology. I've never had to test that particular theory, thank the stars.
Until now.
I can feel my muscles already starting to loosen, the tea working its magic. Thistle stretches, arching his back, then settles back down, his tail twitching.
