Chapter 11
BLOSSOM
As my papa places the crown on my head, I can’t help the silly grin that overtakes my face or the way my eyes seek out the Pumpkin Prince.
Manny is off to the side, clapping like everyone else. The wolf even has on a smile.
But his gaze catches mine, and I spy the regret in them.
We both know what this win means.
He lost the wager. I don’t have to move to Folk Haven.
And I never have to kiss him good-bye again.
Last night could be a onetime deal. I could shrug it off as a hate fuck and move on. Forget the way he touched me. Stroked me. Lay beneath me with my name on his lips and awe in his eyes.
It was one night. One night can’t rewrite years of animosity.
Still, after accepting congratulations from what seems like hundreds of witches, I gravitate toward a shadowy space between two trees, where he waits.
“You wear it well.” Manny tilts his head toward mine, and I reach up to finger the delicate metal construction.
“Told you I’d win.”
“That you did.” He stares at me. Into me.
I shiver under the weight of his attention. “Victory would have been sweeter if you’d tried harder on that last one. What even was that design?”
The smirk he gives me has a secretive edge. “You’ll figure it out.”
I squint my eyes at him, but then shrug. If the wolf wants to be elusive, then that’s his prerogative.
Manny reaches forward and hooks a single finger in the belt loop of my jeans.
He uses his hold to tug me closer, into the shadows with him until we can hear the gathering, but not see anyone.
Effectively alone, he cages me against the trunk of an oak tree, leaves crunching under the thick soles of his boot.
“What’s your plan, Pumpkin Queen?”
“My plan?”
He leans in to drag his nose up the column of my neck. “Now that you have the crown, will you conquer Folk Haven? Make this town yours?”
Having him this close, his heat surrounding me, makes my body tight and my voice hoarse. The tree at my back hums with life and encourages me closer to the man.
But my mouth sticks to old habits. “That wasn’t the bet.”
His fingers tighten, digging into my hips, almost hard enough to bruise, but not quite. “That’s true.” From the way he growls the words, I know Manny wants to add something. After sweeping his tongue over my pounding pulse, he snarls, “Fuck the bet.”
For a moment, I consider giving in. Doing as he suggested.
But again, I speak from a place of self-preservation. “One night doesn’t change everything.”
Lies. Last night changed a lot of things.
But I’m terrified the changes were huge for me and only passing for Manny.
The wolf pushes forward, crowding me, pinning me in place with his hips. “It changes enough.”
All I give him is a shrug, trying to keep the intense way I want him to myself.
Manny’s eyes glare into mine. “You belong here.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
I’ve wanted that since I was thirteen. Since I started smelling good, apparently. I’ve ached for this man who always acted like I was a bother. He claims I’ve had the scent of a mate all along, but despite that, he’s only ever teased me.
And there are the other people who smelled like mates to him that couldn’t hold his interest.
Why should I trust that his longing reflects mine? Why should I tear down my defenses just because we had good sex?
Really good sex.
But the physical isn’t all there is. I need more. I need to trust him.
I need to know that my returning to Folk Haven, that letting myself fall for Manny Ramirez, won’t end in devastation.
But of course, instead of saying that, I go defensive, the way I always do around him.
I scoff. “Excuse me if you changing your mind yesterday isn’t enough for me to upend my life.”
Manny grasps the sides of my face, fingers delving into my hair, but he doesn’t dislodge my crown. “I told you I’ve wanted you since I was sixteen.”
“You lusted after me since then. I smelled good. But I don’t let my pussy make my life decisions.”
“If that’s the case, then maybe you should stop humping my thigh.”
Am I? Shit.
But he’s the one that shoved it between my legs, pressing up against my greedy clit. I glare up at him.
Manny sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slow.
Then, he rests his lips against my forehead in a gentle kiss. “I’ll be in the orchard again tonight. Come find me. Even if it’s to say good-bye. Even though you don’t have to.”
The wolf steps away, releasing me. His face is in the shadows, so I can’t read his expression.
“The crown was always meant for you,” he says.
Then, he’s gone, disappearing into the woods, leaving me behind, achy and confused.
No part of me wants to rejoin the festivities, so I turn my feet toward my father’s house instead, mind reeling with longing and doubt as I stomp through the dark forest.
Once I’m alone in my childhood bedroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. Ridiculous neon-green outfit. Hair dried in random waves after the dip in the lake. Skin still flushed from being so close to the man I want.
I can feel him, between my legs, just like he claimed I would. The frigid water numbed the sensation for a stretch, but now, the subtle soreness is back, and my body misses his.
My eyes flit up to the top of my head.
The silly crown that I was so proud of weighs heavy on my forehead now. I snatch it off, and for a brief, petulant moment, I consider chucking it to the other side of my bedroom.
But I get over that urge fast. Manny made this crown. I remember Heather mentioning once that he fashioned it one of the years he won and she was determined to win it from him the next round. She did, flaunting her victory in front of the grumbling wolf.
From afar, I thought the headpiece looked beautiful. Twisted vines and amber beads twined into the thing.
But I never asked to see it up close, afraid that my jealousy of being left out of the competition would be obvious if I reverently cradled the circlet.
It’s mine now. Won fairly.
“The crown was always meant for you.”
What did Manny mean by that?
Instead of discarding the precious headpiece, I sink to the ground and hold it in my hands, letting my fingers trace over the metal. I follow the carefully crafted roots and spindly leaves hammered from metal into a perfect plant shape.
A familiar shape.
My ring glistens in the low light, the exact same shade as the crown. Side by side, it almost appears as if my ring was plucked from the larger piece.
As if they were a set.
It can’t be. Papa gave me this ring.
But … did he?
I found the gift box on my bedside table the morning I was leaving for college.
To remember where home is, the card read.
The note wasn’t signed. I always assumed it was from my father.
But what if it was left by someone else?
What if this piece of jewelry I’ve treasured all my life, the reminder of home, came from the hands of a werewolf?
What if that werewolf has wanted nothing more than for me to come back?
He was telling the truth.
All this time, I’ve meant something to him.
Not just my body. This is not a means of seduction. If it were, Manny would have used it to his advantage. But this ring was a silent gift of love he never needed me to know about, only to have.
The pumpkin carving comes to my mind then, and the meaning behind the image is so obvious that I have to laugh.
The wolf covered it in blossoms and called it Home.