Page 24 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

For one second, I stopped. That was the sensible moment. The adult moment. The moment when a stable woman in an expensive dress should turn around, call for help, and let the resort explain to Tessa why her ring bearer had decided to unionize.

Then Henry yelped. Small and frightened, close enough to hit me in the chest.

I shoved through the gate. The private grounds were darker than the wedding side, which made sense. They had not been dressed for guests. No lanterns along the lower path. The stone walkway narrowed between tall hedges and old trees, their leaves moving softly overhead in the ocean wind.

“Henry?”

My voice sounded too loud. I slowed, breathing hard, one hand still gripping the front of my dress. My feet hurt. My lungs burned. I told myself the staff were coming that I would grab the dog, apologize to someone with a title and liability insurance, and spend the rest of the night being the family cautionary tale I had apparently trained for since birth.

A flash of white moved ahead.

“There you are.”

Henry stood at the end of the path, facing a wall of dark hedges. His body was rigid, nose lifted, leash trailing through dead leaves. He looked absurdly tiny there, all silk flowers and indignation, staring down landscaping as if it owed him money.

“Come here,” I said, softer now.

He glanced back at me, his eyes looked black in the low light. Then he slipped under the hedge.

“No. Absolutely not!”

I lunged too late. The leash scraped through the leaves and vanished after him.

I stared at the hedge. It was not a wall, exactly. The branches were dense, glossy, and closely grown, but near the ground, a narrow opening had been worn through the roots and shadow. The sort of gap a little dog could fit through if he was determined, terrified, or possessed by the spirit of bad choices.

I crouched, gathering the front of my dress in both hands.

“Henry,” I hissed. “I am too old and too sober for this.”

Another yelp came from the other side.

That decided it. I got down on my knees and pushed through. Branches clawed at my hair. Leaves scraped my arms. The chiffon caught immediately, because the dress had been waiting all evening for a chance to betray me. I cursed under my breath and pulled harder, which was stupid, because fabric rarely responded well to negotiation by violence.

Something tore.

Fine.

Let Tessa explain that in the photo album.

I shoved forward another few inches, half crawling, half falling, my palms sinking into damp soil. The hedge was thicker than it had looked from the path. My shoulder scraped bark. My knee hit a root hard enough to make me bite back a sound. For one unpleasant moment, I was trapped under branches in a bridesmaid dress, which felt exactly as symbolic as it sounds.

Then the ground disappeared and I fell through the other side of the hedge and rolled down a short, grassy slope. The world flipped. Sky, grass, moon, my own elbow, a streak of white that might have been Henry. I landed hard on my side with the air knocked out of me and the taste of dirt in my mouth.

For several seconds, I lay there trying to remember why dignity had ever appealed to me.

A dog barked.

Right.

Henry.

I pushed myself up on one hand. The first thing I saw was the moon. It hung enormous above the trees, white and bright enough to make the lawn glow. The second thing I saw was the circle. At least, that was the only word my brain had for it. I had fallen onto a wide, old lawn enclosed by hedges and stone posts. Lanterns burned along the edges, their flames pale and steady in the wind. People stood around the open grass in a ring, dressed in dark formal clothing that looked less like resort wear and more like something inherited. Some wore long coats. Some wore sleeveless white. All of them were staring at me.

Every single one.

The music from the wedding side had vanished. The air here was full of other things. Smoke. Salt. crushed herbs. Something metallic beneath it that my mind couldn’t name.

Henry stood a few yards away near a stone marker, shaking so hard his floral collar trembled. His leash had wrapped around one of the posts. He barked at me once, as if I had caused this.