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Quill’s lips tilt upward in what might be a smile.

“You’re stronger than me, Rory,” Eivor says grimacing. “I would’ve disemboweled him.”

“And on that note,” Quill says tightly, turning his back to the window. He’s haloed by the sun, and in its golden light, the sharp angles of his face are nearly angelic. “Let’s not keep the wolves waiting.”

Quill’s arm is a comforting vice around my waist as we drift around the side of the castle to the outskirts of the overgrown jungle where the werewolves lurk.

My nursemaid once tried to frighten me with tales about werewolves and their merciless maws in an effort to prove creatures were terrible and should be feared. She’d read me bedtime stories about wolves who dress up as unassuming grandmothers just for the chance to devour children.

Not once did she say they were beautiful, so when Cress confided in me about her heritage, I learned that all the stories, all the lies, wielded against creatures during King Joal’s weekly rallies were horseshit.

The waves crash in the distance, a whisper of a sound, as my nerves try to get the best of me. I lean into his touch, a movement that feels as natural as breathing once did.

“The Shore of the Damned is private land,” Quill says to the unseen trespassers. His tone brooks no room for argument, and a rumble of thunder roars above the open sea as clouds fall forward, blocking out the sun. I peer at Eivor over my shoulder and find his eyes glowing white hot as if he himself is the embodiment of lightning. “If Mihal sent you, this is an act of treason and goes against the sanctity of the⁠—”

“We come on behalf of Alyvia, not Mihal.” The brush bends and cracks as a man with russet brown skin and curtains of dark hair steps forward. He holds up his hands, the gesture placating. Claw marks streak across his taut chest, over his shoulders, and across his abs. My gaze travels lower to find ripped trousers slung low on narrow hips and feet as bare as mine.

“Ash,” Quill says tightly. “Did Nerissa contact Alyvia?”

Ash nods. “She did. Alyvia wanted proof of your siring.” His brown eyes drift over to me. “Is this your childe?”

Out of the corner of my eye, the kindred shift into protective stances.

The ocean breeze ruffles my hair, and I press closer to Quill as another beast prowls from the lush greenery. This one is still in its wolf form, quite small with deep brown fur that looks soft enough to pet. Familiar amber eyes meet mine, and I pause, mouth slightly ajar. This couldn’t possibly be… The wolf lets out a high-pitched whimper as it ventures closer to me. My fingers reach out instinctively to smooth the worry off the creature’s brow⁠—

Risna slaps my hand away. She juts a blade toward the wolf’s throat. “Don’t test my patience, little wolf.”

In a nearly blinding wink of light, the wolf shifts from its beastly form and⁠—

It absolutely could be.

“Cress,” I cry. My knees wobble as I throw my arms around her. Questions fall from my lips like leaves at the first sign of winter. “What are you doing here? Are you all right? Is Tyl here too? Where’s your baby?”

Behind us, Carver says, “Cress? As in, the wolf who broke into my house?”

Ash casts a reprimanding glare at the back of Cress’s head as Risna and Eivor tell Carver to drop it.

Quill… he merely grins at me as if he can feel the happiness and relief buzzing through me.

“I came as soon as word spread about the rite, Ro,” Cress says, pulling back. Another half-dressed wolf prowls from the greenery and hands Cress a shift. She slips it on and pulls me against her once again, squeezing far tighter than she ever has before. “I needed to know what happened to you, so my aunt granted me permission to tag along with Ash once she learned of Quill and his intentions.” When she finally releases me, she smiles as she looks around us and tilts her head toward the beach. “Walk with me?”

My gaze meets Quill’s, and his eyes say everything he promised me the night I decided to run away with him. You don’t need to ask me permission to do anything, Rory. You are free to make your own choices.

With his words echoing through my mind, I hook my arm through Cress’s and turn to stroll down the stretch of ashen sand, leaving politics and creatures in our wake.

“Well,” Cress says slyly, her full hip bumping mine. “I always knew we’d make it to the ocean someday, I just never thought you’d go to such lengths to do it.”

I cut her a sideways glance. “Does it bother you?” When she merely furrows her brow, I add, “That I’m a vampire now?”

“Gods, no.” She waves away my words. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t save you from the altar myself. I had a plan in place to get you out of the city, but then I went into labor…”

It’s as if a lifetime has passed since I last saw her at Gild the Lily. How has it only been a few days? I take a moment to truly look at her beneath the gray-tinged light. Dark circles pool like shadows under her eyes, but her skin is still a beautiful dark brown. Liquid seeps through her shift where her full breasts nearly spill out of it, and I frown. It cannot be easy for her being away from her child mere days after giving birth.

She catches me staring. “Do I look much different?”

“Not at all,” I say.

“You’ve always been a terrible liar.” She sighs. “Motherhood is… so much harder than I expected it would be. Even with the help of my pack, I’m exhausted all the fucking time.”