And I wanted so much more.
But I stayed still. I held her. I said nothing.
For now, that was enough.
I woke before she did. It wasn’t unusual for me to wake early. Whatwasunusual was how little I wanted to move. The weight of Artemis’s warm body against me made my mind go quiet. The storm had stopped. I knew that even without looking out the window. The world outside the cabin was as still as if the world had reset itself while we slept.
I waited several breaths before moving. When I finally did, it was slow and deliberate, so I didn’t wake her. I eased myself free inch by inch, even though I mourned the loss of her warmth. I paused long enough to confirm she stayed asleep, then pulled on my coat and stepped out onto the porch.
I looked out over the beautiful landscape. The countryside stretched outward in raw, ancient layers of black rock and moss, the terrain rolling toward distant mountains that cut sharp lines against the paling sky. Steam curled from somewhere far off in the valley, rising in slow white ribbons where geothermal heat broke through the earth. The air smelled faintly of salt and mineral and something older—volcanic stone that had cooled only long enough to pretend at stillness.
Wind moved across the hillside in steady currents, brushing the grass flat and lifting the edge of my coat. Beyond the slope, the sea lay dark and immense, the horizon a thin silver seam where water met morning light.
Nothing here was delicate.
The land was unfinished, powerful. It needed no refinement. Fire slept under the soil. Mountains rose without apology. Even the quiet carried weight.
It suited me.
The air smelled clean and alive. Inhaling deeply, I took my phone out of my pocket and called my mother.
She answered on the second ring.
“Arthur,” my mother said. “You’re calling early.”
On the screen, she was framed in warm light, her blonde hair, threaded with silver, pulled back elegantly. She wore a sweater and no jewelry, her face bare, her eyes wise. Age had clarified her. She looked exactly like someone who noticed everything and forgot nothing.
I should have remembered the time difference. “Sorry. I just wanted to check in,” I said.
Her gaze sharpened slightly. “Where are you?”
“Iceland.”
A pause. Then, mild amusement. “Of course you are. And what are you doing in Iceland?”
“The conversation we had at the café was productive,” I said. “I’m pursuing a lead.”
She pursed her lips as she studied my face. “Something’s different. Are you alone?”
“No,” I said.
Her eyebrows lifted. “Then tell me the rest.”
“The librarian from New York is with me,” I said. “She’s helping me.”
“Arthur, don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.” I hesitated, then continued, “I’ve realized she is my fated mate.”
I said it plainly, as if I wasn’t sharing the most crucial news of my entire existence.
A smile broke over her face. “Oh, Arthur, that’s wonderful. You sound steadier already.”
“There will be complications,” I said. “She is human. If she accepts the bond, the clan will have concerns.”
She waved that away. “The clan will be fine. Have you seen the café lately? We’re serving vampires next to humans next to witches next to three kinds of fae. Everyone’s getting along fine. I even made a new friend last week. She’s a banshee. I told her she was quite late to warn me of my husband’s imminent death, then we had tea.”
I ignored the part about the banshee, not ready to dissect that. “That’s different,” I said.
