Chapter 4
Four
O liver waited for the punchline.
Grandmother Musgrove wasn’t a very jokey woman, but she had her moments. This was, admittedly, a pretty weird moment to pick. But Oliver couldn’t think of any other explanation for why she’d tell him he was married to the rude, spoiled stranger with giant bush baby eyes who crashed a car into his sign and called him an asshole within thirty seconds of meeting him.
The woman shivered pathetically in front of him, snow spiraling through the hole and landing in her damp hair. Even disheveled, she carried an air of entitlement and wealth. Her voice dripped with money, and her teeth were the kind of straight that only came from luxury dentists. Even the way she stood—anxious but still haughty like she expected to get out of this situation scot-free—screamed that she’d never had anything truly bad happen to her in her whole life. Nothing money couldn’t get her out of.
Next to him, Ben gasped.
“Oh,” Ben said. “ Ohhhhh .”
“What?” Oliver snapped.
Ben pointed. The woman was holding the bottle he’d been drinking from earlier. He must’ve left it there after he went to get the bucket and grudgingly went over to join the party long enough to shut his family up.
More gasps went up behind him. Oliver turned to find both his aunts clinging to each other with excitement and shock. Uncle Roy scratched the childhood burn scar on his neck and glared at the woman like he wanted to rip her pretty little throat out right there in the lobby. Even Sabine had her hands over her mouth. The only ones who looked as confused as Oliver were the kids pulling on their parents’ sleeves for answers. Even a few non-wolves were getting it. The mermaid in the wheelchair had her hands over her mouth just like Sabine, eyes shining like she was watching the climax of a reality TV show.
“What?” Oliver asked again, turning to Grandmother. “What are you talking about?”
“You must be more drunk than I thought,” Grandmother said. “Look closer.”
She pointed at the bottle.
“Um,” said the woman, still shivering like a leaf. “I assumed it was for the party… I can put it back?—”
“Too late,” Uncle Roy spat. “The damage is done.”
A horrible realization rushed over Oliver fast, cutting through the drunkenness. He did recognize that bottle. That was the bottle that had been present in every Musgrove bonding ceremony since before Oliver was born, with the two betrothed sharing the sacred spirits made by Musgrove elders and left to age until the next ceremony. He’d never seen it when it wasn’t draped in flowers and drizzled with oils somewhere in the woods, the bonded pair tipping the bottle into each spouse’s mouth.
“But—” Oliver said. “But it was in the back room. With our filing cabinet and a bunch of crap we never use but don’t want to throw out. Why was it in there?”
“A lot of things got misplaced during the move,” Grandmother pointed out.
Oliver shook his head numbly. He couldn’t have drunk that without knowing. It was sacred to their pack. He couldn’t just uncork it and start chugging.
Next to him, Ben stifled a hysterical giggle. “Dude, that’s—that’s the bond nectar . How do you accidentally drink the bond nectar ?”
Oliver ran his tongue around his mouth. Traces of the liquid were still there under the beer he’d thrown back at the party while waiting to leave.
“Uhhh,” the woman said, clutching the bottle like it wasn’t hugely important to the pack she was now in. “I’m sorry, can someone explain what’s going on so I can curl up with an electric blanket and get this night over with? You guys do electric blankets, right?”
Another gust of wind came through the giant hole in the roof, sending a new wave of snow around the room. The woman—Oliver’s wife, even though he didn’t even know her name —jumped like she’d been stung, rubbing her arms through her robe.
The tiniest shiver ran through Grandmother, who turned toward the people behind them with a smile.
“I think the night has burned itself out,” she announced. “Everybody might want to head home. Julia, do you need a hand?”
“Nope,” said the mermaid in the wheelchair. “Tammy has it.”
Tammy the orc tipped her party hat toward Grandmother. She sent a curious glance to Oliver before she bent down and lifted the entire wheelchair into her arms, heading for the door with several partygoers following behind. Including Joshua, the minotaur who owned the flower shop. He placed the lily vase down on the front counter and jogged out, sending Oliver an apologetic look as he went.
Grandmother’s hand hovered over Oliver’s elbow. “Come on.”
“This is ridiculous,” Oliver protested. He gestured up at the snow drifting down into the lobby, which was mercifully slowing down. “I—I need to put up a tarp. I need?—”
“We can do that later,” Grandmother said before walking over to the shivering woman.
Oliver gritted his teeth and followed. There was a strange warmth in his chest that burned hotter the closer he got to her, which was worrying.
“Luna,” said Grandmother as she arrived in front of the woman. “Why don’t you follow us someplace warmer? You look frozen.”
Luna . Oliver had to bite his cheek to stop himself from groaning. Of course, she had a stupid moon name.
His brother, of course, was not as graceful. He snorted aloud as he followed the group down the hall toward their living quarters.
“Shut up ,” Oliver told him.
“Didn’t say a word,” Ben said, not bothering to wipe that stupid smug smile off his face.
Grandmother took Luna into Sabine and Ben’s bedroom to pick out some warmer clothes. As they waited, Uncle Roy paced the Musgrove common room with his fangs bared.
“It’s a trick,” he snarled as he paced. “Somebody sent her to infiltrate the pack. Some hunting clan back in Arizona?—”
“Nobody’s hunting us, Roy,” Aunt Althea said, slurring from her attempts to fix her gold tooth. “You’re scaring the kids.”
Uncle Roy snarled. It only softened when he looked over at the kids—six-year-old Leo wrestling with his nine-year-old cousin, Darren. Next to them, sixteen-year-old Vida, Darren’s sister, took her ever-present, bulky headphones off to glare at Aunt Althea.
“Not a kid, Mom ,” she said. She shot Oliver an amused look as she slid her headphones back on. “Congrats on the wife, Uncle Ollie. ”
Oliver glared at her, then turned to the rest of the room. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Grandmother will get this sorted. It’s not—it can’t be a real bond.”
And yet there was that warmth in his chest, getting colder and colder. The cold hurt. He wanted to be warm again, to be close to her. It scared him. He didn’t even know her, but some stupid ritual had decided that his body wanted to be next to hers, always. More than next to her. It wanted?—
He thumped his chest, trying to make it stop aching. “Okay. Roof. We’ll put up a tarp and wait for the snow to stop. We might have to replace the carpet in the lobby if the water stain gets too bad.”
“You really should call Jackson,” said Aunt Barney, who was sitting on the couch and braiding Aunt Althea’s hair while the other woman continued to fix her gold tooth.
“He can consult,” Oliver said. “But I don’t want him working on the inn.”
Aunt Althea and Aunt Barney traded a knowing look.
“Bad as Uncle Roy,” Aunt Barney muttered, combing a gentle hand through her sister’s thick, dark hair.
Oliver bit back the knee-jerk asshole response. Sure, he hadn’t welcomed the annoyingly friendly townsfolk with open arms. But he wasn’t as bad as Uncle Roy, who roamed the halls at night “in case of danger,” scaring the hell out of several of the few guests that had stayed here since they opened .
He turned to Uncle Roy, who was still growling under his breath. “It’s probably just some dumb mistake, Uncle Roy.”
Uncle Roy gave him a betrayed look. “Here I thought you were finally seeing sense this past year. Nothing good came out of that fire except you finally wising up.”
Oliver fought back the urge to shudder. “So what, Uncle Roy? She found a way to put the bottle in the office without us smelling her? Then she mind-controlled me to drink it? To leave it out in the open?”
Uncle Roy opened his mouth to go on another one of his rants.
Oliver cut him off. “Whatever this is, Grandmother will fix it, and then we’ll never have to see that woman again.”
“I like her,” said Darren, letting Leo pin him to the carpet. “She’s pretty.”
“She’s rude ,” Oliver barked.
Ben snorted again. “And I bet you did nothing to set that off.”
Oliver scowled at him. Everyone was having too much fun with this situation except for him and Uncle Roy, which was not a grouping he wanted to be lumped in. Uncle Roy had been scarred by wannabe hunters as a child and had grown up with a chip on his shoulder. Not just for humans but with anyone who wasn’t pack. Everybody had hoped he’d drop this attitude after he’d shocked everyone by marrying a human—even going as far as to marry her—and for a few years, it had seemed like he was softening. Then she’d left, and he’d gone right back to being suspicious of everyone outside the pack. Until last year, Oliver thought he was being dramatic. Then the fire happened, and Oliver found himself suspicious of everyone who tried to insert themselves into their lives. Which in this town was pretty much everyone.
Before Oliver could tell his brother exactly where to stick it, the hallway door opened. His heart skipped a beat, and he frowned. He didn’t think he was that stressed.
“—hair looks fine,” Sabine was saying as she came in with Grandmother. “What do you think, Ollie? How does her hair look?”
Luna strode in. She was wearing one of Sabine’s sleep shirts and a baggy pair of sweatpants. She should’ve looked like a slob. Infuriatingly, she looked like a model showing off the latest in nightwear chic. Her hair had been freshly blow-dried, fuzzing up around her ears. She kept petting it like she wanted it to lie down, but it sprung back up every time. It looked so soft. Everything in Oliver wanted to touch it.
Luna raised her elegant eyebrows expectantly, fluffing up her hair. “Well?”
“It’s fine,” Oliver managed, choking the urge down. It’s just the bond, he reminded himself as his fingers itched. It’s not real.
Luna gave him an exasperated look. “Okay, seriously. Thanks for the clothes and everything, but what is going on? I drink some weird liquor, and suddenly, I’m werewolf married? I haven’t signed anything. Is this legally binding?”
“It is,” Grandmother Musgrove said. “Your souls are linked until you remove the bond.”
“Our souls ,” Luna said with a breathy laugh. “Oookay.”
Oliver’s stomach turned. He didn’t like it any more than she did, but this was serious stuff. It shouldn’t be laughed at.
“But is it legally binding?” She asked, nose wrinkling. “Like, do I have to get it removed? I’m getting married in two months.”
“You’ll be on the wolf marriage registry,” Sabine said apologetically. “It just shows up. Sorry.”
“We’ll get it removed,” Oliver said. He turned to Grandmother. “We can do the unbinding ritual soon, right? We have an elder, we have the ingredients?—”
“Not the Hyacinth confractus ,” Ben piped up from where he’d taken his place next to Sabine, nuzzling gently into her shoulder. He only looked up from Sabine when he noticed everyone had fallen silent. “What? Grandmother asked me to check our supplies before we moved out here. I checked. We’re out of confractus.”
Aunt Barney paused in braiding her sister’s hair. “That’s the divorce flower, right? I can never remember the proper names.”
“We can get some divorce flowers,” Oliver said, desperately trying to remember his childhood wolf lessons. “We can order it in, right?”
“Nationwide shortage,” Ben said. “That’s why we haven’t gotten any more. We’re on a waitlist. ”
Oliver groaned. “It grows in Alaska, right? On mountains? I can go searching tomorrow!”
“You will go searching once the snow thaws,” Grandmother corrected. “Unless you want to climb a mountain in the snow and start digging.”
Oliver thought about it.
Grandmother reached up like she was about to grasp his jaw, half-fondness, half-frustrated. Then she stopped.
“Oliver, really. You can last a few weeks until the snow thaws. It’s basically spring already.” With that, she inserted herself on the couch next to Aunt Althea and Aunt Barney, shaking her hair out of its bun and presenting it for braiding.
“Right,” Luna said slowly. “And we’ll just… keep this quiet until then.”
“ Gladly ,” Oliver said sourly.
Luna picked at her sleep shirt. She looked bewildered by the amount of physical affection happening between the pack: both aunts turning to plait Grandmother Musgrove’s long gray hair; Darren and Leo wrestling right up against Vida’s leg while she tried to kick them away from her; Sabine and Ben nuzzling each other. The only ones not touching anyone were Uncle Roy and Oliver, and goddamn if Oliver didn’t hate that. Once he would’ve been plaiting Grandmother’s hair with his aunts or wrestling on the ground with the kids. Now he was standing off to the side, arms crossed, face stuck in a scowl he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face.
Luna sucked in a breath, giving the room a brisk grin. “Okay! So, this was super lovely, even with all the roofs caving in and the cold and the yelling and the accidental werewolf marriage. It was nice to meet you all.”
Aunt Althea made a noise of protest as Luna started slinking toward the door. “We’ve barely met you! Come, sit. Have some cocoa. Can we get some cocoa in here?”
“I’ll go,” Ben said, untangling himself from Sabine.
Luna watched him go, looking somehow even more uncomfortable than when she was watching everyone touch each other.
“I’m really tired,” she said, patting her frizzy hair down.
“But you’re part of the pack! Until the snow thaws, anyway.” Aunt Althea patted the scant space left on the couch. “Who are you? What do you do?”
“Um…” Luna looked out at the sea of expectant faces. Her gaze lingered on Oliver, but only for a moment. Just long enough for the warmth in Oliver’s chest to burn hotter. Then she looked away, and he went cold.
Luna bent into a curtsey. Oliver couldn’t tell if it was ironic or not.
“I’m Luna Stack. I’m a Gemini, and I like noodles and warm weather. My family runs Stack Appliances.”
Sabine gasped. “Oh, you guys make such cool stuff! That vampire family over the way has a Stack jacuzzi, it’s fantastic. They make those fancy armchairs I showed you, remember, Aunt Barney?”
Aunt Barney asked, “Do we get a friends and family discount?”
Luna laughed awkwardly. “Um… ”
“No discounts,” Oliver said. “She’s not pack. She’s a mistake.”
He hadn’t meant to say it so sternly. The room fell silent anyway.
“Wow,” Luna said flatly. “Way to treat your new wife.”
He stared at her.
Luna giggled. “I’m joking! Obviously. I would never marry you, even if I didn’t already have a fiancé.”
Then she beamed. Oliver could feel the sacred liquor at the back of his throat, sweet and scalding. Did she feel him? She wasn’t a wolf, but she’d still feel it. A little piece of him. A shard. A sharp, little prick irritating her insides.
“Thanks again for the clothes,” Luna said into the silence. “So cute and cozy.”
She did a little shimmy, exposing a flash of her long, flat stomach. Something deep and primal stirred in Oliver’s stomach. Oliver told it to shut the fuck up and tore his gaze away from the pale skin as it vanished under her sleep shirt.
“I’m going to bed,” Luna continued. “Toodles.”
Ben came back into the room, brows raising when he took in the strained silence. Luna grabbed the mug off him as she passed, flicking everyone a tiny finger wave as she escaped into the hall.
“So,” Ben said, flexing his newly empty hands. “Ollie married a woman who says toodles . Unironically.”
“It was ironic,” Oliver protested. “It has to be ironic.”
“Maybe it started ironic, and it became sincere,” Sabine suggested, ducking back under her husband’s arm.
“Yeah, she seems really sincere.” Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Oliver,” Grandmother Musgrove said, soft but stern as her hair was braided by four hands at once. “That’s your wife.”
Anger sparked through Oliver in a wave.
“That’s not my wife!” he exploded. “That’s a spoiled LA heiress who’s never had to work a day in her life. I know everybody finds it so funny , but I don’t. Alright? I’m bound to some stranger. This isn’t funny to me.”
“Hear, hear,” said Uncle Roy quietly, the first words he’d spoken since Luna came back in the room. “The further she stays away, the better.”
Hear, hear, Oliver thought. But before he could say anything, the warmth in his chest went so intensely cold that it made him grunt.
“As far away as she can stay, anyway,” Uncle Roy continued with a frown. “Is it hitting already? She’s only down in the guest hall.”
“I know,” Oliver gritted. He rubbed his chest. The ice in his chest was throbbing now, radiating out to the rest of his body. The tips of his fingers ached from the cold.
“Maybe she’s exploring the house,” Uncle Roy said, eyes going steely. “Looking for our weaknesses.”
Grandmother Musgrove cocked her head, listening. “She’s in her room. Mumbling something about the quality of our sheets. ”
Oliver kept rubbing his chest. Why did he already know she was in her room? It made sense, but it was more than that. It was a knowing, deep in his chest. The bond was reporting back to him, letting him know where his bondmate was. God , that was going to be annoying. He’d be trying to focus on paperwork, and the bond would be blaring like the world’s most annoying Google pin, alerting him to where his other half was. Even though he didn’t ask.
Ben winced in sympathy. “That’s strong, dude. I had to be on the other side of the house before it started hurting.”
“Great,” Oliver muttered.
Ben laid a big hand on his shoulder. “It’s strongest when the bond is new. It’ll get easier with time.”
“It’d better,” Oliver said. He rubbed his chest harder, hoping it would soothe the numbing cold. It didn’t. Nothing would—except getting close to the last person in this inn he wanted to get close to.