Page 3 of Wild Thorns

"You look tired, honey," she said, and her voice was pure maternal concern. "Long drive?"

"Eighteen hours, give or take."

"Lord." She shook her head. "You get some rest. The boys will help with your boxes. I'll tell them to give you space today, let you settle in, but don't hesitate to knock on our door if you need anything. Anything at all. The Thornwood pack takes care of its own."

Pack. The word snagged on something in my brain, but she was already heading back down the stairs, moving with that same fluid grace, and I was too tired to chase the thought.

The man with the axe had to be one of her 'boys'.

In an upstairs window, a grin flashed—all charm and mischief. He had the kind of features that made women stupid: a sharp jawline, laughing eyes, dark curls that fell artfully across his forehead in a way that made my fingers itch to push them back.

He caught me looking. He winked. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I looked away too fast, nearly dropping the box I was carrying.

Ridiculous, I told myself. You're here to disappear, not to flirt with the landlord's sons.

But I could feel his eyes on me all the way up the stairs. Could feel all of them watching, though I hadn’t seen the third brother anywhere. The weight of their attention pressed against my skin like the humidity, heavy and inescapable.

That night, I ate Rowena's chicken and rice straight from the dish, standing at the kitchen counter because I hadn't unpacked plates yet. It was good. Better than good. The kind of home cooking that tasted like someone had put actual love into it, like every ingredient had been chosen with intention. I couldn't remember the last time someone had made me food.

I texted Tara that I'd arrived safely.

Made it, I wrote. Place is beautiful. Landlords are... interesting. Three sons. Triplets. I'll call tomorrow.

Her response came immediately: TRIPLETS?? Girl. Call me NOW.

I sent back a laughing emoji and turned off my phone. I'd explain tomorrow, when I had words for any of this. When I'd slept, showered, and could think clearly enough to describe the man with the axe, the one in the window, the mother who smelled the air like she was reading secrets.

The magnolia tree was silver in the moonlight, visible through my window. I watched it for a long time, watched the way the shadows moved through its branches even though there was no wind. The blooms seemed to glow, holding light they had no business holding at this hour.

Something howled in the preserve. Then something answered. Then something else, until the night was full of voices, threading together in a way that sounded almost like harmony. Like music. Like a language I didn't speak but could almost understand.

I should have been afraid.

I'd driven a thousand miles to escape a man who tracked my every movement, who broke into my apartment while I slept, who left roses on my pillow like promises and threats in equal measure. I was alone in a strange town, in a strange apartment, surrounded by strange people who looked at me with too much intensity.

Everything about this situation should have triggered alarm. But the howling outside my window was a lullaby, and I slept like a baby.

I fell asleep without checking the locks.

I dreamed about golden eyes instead, watching me from the darkness of a forest I'd never seen, patient as stone, certain as moonrise. There was a woman's voice, with a slightly accented voice, whispering words I couldn't quite hear.

I woke with the taste of something saccharin on my tongue and the strangest feeling that I was teetering right on the edge… of something.

Chapter two

New Girl in Town

The coffee shop was called The Daily Grind, and by my third day in Magnolia Creek, the woman behind the counter knew my order.

"Large black, extra shot?" She was already reaching for a cup before I nodded. "You're the new girl at the old Thornwood estate, right?"

Word traveled at the speed of Rowena's casseroles, apparently.

"News travels fast," I said.

The woman, Mel according to the hand-painted name tag pinned to her apron, grinned at me. The expression transformed her face from pleasant to striking, sharp cheekbones catching the light, eyes crinkling at the corners. But something about her smile made me look twice. Her teeth seemed slightly too sharp, the canines a fraction longer than they should be. A detail easily missed unless you were used to looking over your shoulder; paying attention to every little detail.

I blinked. Looked again. Normal teeth. Normal smile.