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Mia grimaced. “Did you just say ‘Anvil’ was a good baby name?”
“We can call him Annie!”
“You may need professional help,” Mia said.
Brynn turned bright eyes to Mia and took her hand. “I’m so glad you’re here, bestie, and I’m glad you’re staying.”
“Me too.”
Acksel told Lucian that he wanted to get the book from Kismet and then discuss the oath ceremony. In the meantime, he said, they should get together for dinner one night soon and get to know each other. Although Lucian had grown up in Wilde Creek, the same as Acksel, neither had been friends in school and they didn’t know one another. After giving Brynn a goodbye hug, Mia and Lucian left Doc’s.
Lucian opened the door for Mia, and she stopped and hugged him.
“I think it’s going to all be okay,” she said.
“I have no doubt,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
“Oh?” She tilted her head to look at him.
He smiled. “You can do anything you put your mind to.”
“I can do anything withyouby my side.”
“Me too, sweetheart.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Kismet stepped off her back porch onto the stone path that led to her garden. Under one arm was the book containing the berserker oathing ceremony that she’d had her father get for her from the king’s library. In her other hand was a piece of ivory ribbon.
She’d had an interesting dream the night before about a wolf. The big creature was dark gray with a patch of white on his chest, and had intense dark amber eyes. He’d growled at her and she’d followed him into unfamiliar woods, stopping at a pine tree that had been cracked in half by lightning. The trunk was split, but continued to grow in spite of the damage. The wolf had rubbed against the tree, and she’d placed her hand on the jagged edges of the crack and then looked up until she saw the full moon high in the night sky. Looking for the wolf, she saw him sitting on his haunches behind her, staring at her intently. And then he’d disappeared into the woods, and she’d been unable to leave the odd-looking tree.
When she woke, she had wolves on her mind, particularly the alphas of the Wilde Creek pack she’d met at Doc’s two weeks earlier. She was supposed to bring the book to them, and decided that bringing a gift to the female for her baby might open the door for a conversation about a wolf with a white patch of fur. She wasn’t sure how to work that into a conversation, but she was clever, and she’d figure something out.
Kismet loved her garden. The large square of carefully tilled earth was walled with knee-high white picket fencing to keep the creatures who liked to nibble on her precious plants away. Stepping over the fence, she strolled down the stone walkway in the center of the garden and stopped at the fairy roses.
They were in full bloom, their blossoms lovely shades from the palest pink to the darkest maroon. With thin scissors, she snipped three of the prettiest flowers and then moved to the English bluebells, which were a close second to the fairy roses as her favorites. The elegant blueish-purple flowers looked so much like bells that she always expected to hear them ringing when it was windy. Snipping off two stems, she turned to find the thyme, which her people believed was an herb that was created by the first fairies, a symbol of bravery and good health.
Plus it smelled amazing.
With several pretty sprigs of thyme in her hand, she left her garden and sat on a stone bench under the shade of a cherry tree. She set the book down, and then fashioned a small bouquet out of the flowers and thyme, tying it together with the white ribbon.
“I thought you were leaving, my darling,” her father said as he sat next to her.
“I wanted to take something to the alpha female.” She showed him the bouquet.
He raised an eyebrow. “For what reason?”
Her father was a very no-nonsense male, and in many ways she took after him. But she also had a longing to find a male to share her life with. Not someone who wanted her simply because of who her father was, but a male who would love every awesome inch of her. She opened her mouth to tell him about the wolf in her dream, but she changed her mind. For now, she’d keep things close until she knew if she really had dreamed of her mate, or if she’d just stayed up too late watching television and had a mixed-up dream.
She looked down at the bouquet, running a finger lightly along the thyme. “Rich is a wolf. They’re an interesting group.”
“So are fae.”
She nudged his shoulder with her own. “I know.”
“You will be careful when you’re with the wolves.”
An order, not a request.
