Page 31 of Talk Howly to Me

The enthusiasm in her voice made Kozue's chest tighten with a mixture of gratitude and frustration. If only it were that simple.

"Sloane is also Ronan's fated mate."

Emerson's eyebrows shot up, but rather than looking shocked or concerned, she looked fascinated. "Oh! A rare triad mate bond?" She leaned back on her stool. "That sounds complicated, but it totally makes sense for you and Ronan. You two are basically brothers and share everything else—why not a mate?"

Kozue let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, it should make perfect sense. But in reality, it's much trickier." He moved to check on the banana bread in the commercial oven, needing the distraction of movement. "Especially when your fated mate just learned yesterday that wolf shifters exist, and that she's the destined mate of both the Alpha and Beta. And I complicated everything by dumping all of that on her in one conversation."

When he turned back around, Emerson had somehow acquired a piece of the cooling banana bread from an earlier batch and was eating it with obvious enjoyment.

"And now Ronan thinks I overstepped," Kozue continued, the words pouring out now that he'd started. "I was just trying to be completely honest. Sloane asked for complete honesty, so I gave it to her."

"Well, Kozue," she said between bites, "you did the right thing. Maybe your timing could've been better, but I have a feeling the triad bond will pull you all back together."

Before Kozue could respond, the kitchen's swinging doors opened again. Ronan stepped through, his imposing frame filling the doorway as his eyes immediately found Kozue's. For a moment, hope flared in Kozue's chest—maybe Ronan was ready to talk, to work through whatever tension had been building between them. But Ronan's gaze shifted away almost immediately, focusing on Emerson instead.

"Emerson," Ronan said, his deep voice carrying that controlled Alpha tone. "Could you help me in the lobby with something?"

The dismissal was clear, and it hit Kozue like a slap. Ronan turned and left without another word, not even acknowledging Kozue's presence beyond that brief, loaded glance.

Kozue shot Emerson a defeated look. "I'm not so sure the triad bond can pull a stubborn wolf like Ronan out of his protective shell."

Emerson giggled as she slid off the bar stool. "I think you'll be surprised," she said with that knowing smile that suggested she saw possibilities he couldn't yet imagine.

Alone in the kitchen again, Kozue stared at the empty doorway and felt the familiar weight of self-doubt settle over his shoulders.

Maybe I should have just stepped aside from the beginning, he thought, returning to his preparations with mechanical precision. Let Ronan claim her without complicating things.

But even as that thought formed, his wolf snarled in rejection. Sloane was theirs—both of theirs. The triad mate bond wasn't a mistake or a cruel joke. It was fate's design, even if none of them knew how to navigate it yet.

Hours later, the sun had disappeared behind the towering pines, leaving the sky painted in deep purples and indigos that made the stars seem impossibly bright. Kozue stood at the edge of the stone fire pit behind Hale Lodge, arranging split oak logs in the precise formation that would create the perfect bonfire. The familiar ritual of building the fire had always calmed him.

Tonight, though, even the meditative process of fire-building couldn't quiet his restless energy. His wolf paced, agitated by the emotional distance that had opened between him and the two people who mattered most in his world.

The fire soon roared to life with satisfying intensity, casting dancing shadows across the carefully arranged seating area they'd created for these weekly community gatherings. Comfortable camping chairs formed loose circles around the fire pit, with rustic wooden tables positioned strategically to hold the evening's treats. The entire space had been designed to encourage conversation and connection—something the pack valued above almost everything else.

If only connection were as simple as arranging furniture, Kozue thought grimly as he walked toward the refreshment table he'd set up earlier.

The rich aroma of his famous hot chocolate drifted from the large thermal dispensers, mixing with the sweet scent of his banana bread and the smoky fragrance of the fire. Everything was perfectly prepared for another successful lodge event, but his usual satisfaction in creating these moments of community felt hollow when the people he cared about most were avoiding each other.

Guests began trickling out from the lodge's rear entrance, their voices carrying excitement and anticipation. The Martins, a retired couple from Portland who'd been coming to Hale Lodge for five years, approached the refreshment table with warm smiles.

"Kozue, you've outdone yourself again," Mrs. Martin said, accepting a steaming mug of hot chocolate. "This smells absolutely divine."

"Thank you, Margaret." He managed his characteristic smile despite the turmoil in his chest. "Make sure you try the banana bread while it's still warm."

The familiar rhythm of hosting began to work its magic, drawing him out of his brooding thoughts. More guests approached—the young couple celebrating their anniversary, the group of college friends on their annual reunion trip, the family with two energetic teenagers who'd been skeptical about a wilderness retreat until they'd discovered the lodge's extensive hiking trails. Kozue greeted each group by name, remembering their preferences and asking about their day's activities with genuine interest.

This is what I'm good at, he reminded himself as he helped a guest navigate the s'mores supplies. Making people feel welcome. Creating community. Supporting others.

But even as he fell into the comfortable role of host, his enhanced senses remained hyperaware of who wasn't present. No sign of Ronan's commanding presence or the steady confidence that naturally drew people to him. No trace of Sloane's distinctive lavender and vanilla scent that had become as essential to Kozue as breathing.

Twenty minutes passed in a blur of pleasant conversation and laughter. Kozue found himself seated in one of the camping chairs closest to the fire, a slice of his own banana bread balanced on his knee and a mug of hot chocolate warming his hands. The familiar comfort foods did nothing to fill the hollow ache in his chest, but he maintained the appearance of contentment for the sake of the guests who'd settled around the fire.

The flames painted shifting patterns of gold and orange across the faces of the people gathered in the circle, creating an atmosphere of intimate warmth that usually made him feel deeply satisfied. Tonight, though, he felt like he was performing a role rather than truly participating. His thoughts kept drifting to the conversation he needed to have with Ronan, to the apology he owed for complicating their situation with Sloane, to the growing certainty that he'd destroyed any chance they might have had at making their unprecedented triad bond work.

"Is this seat taken?"

The familiar voice sent electricity shooting down his spine. Kozue looked up to find Sloane standing beside his chair, her hazel eyes reflecting the firelight in ways that made his wolf surge toward the surface with desperate recognition. She held two long roasting sticks, each topped with a perfectly white marshmallow, and graham crackers and chocolate bars were tucked under her other arm. A small, tentative smile played at the corners of her mouth—the first genuine expression of warmth he'd seen from her since their night together.