Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
A distraction, Grandmother Musgrove called it. Something to take his mind off Ben and Sabine’s trek into the mountains. Oliver had assumed she would show him a mysterious stain she’d discovered in one of the rooms. He didn’t expect her to lead him into her room to find her desk covered in the instruments he was never allowed to touch as a child: a slim blue bottle with a curled handle, a battered golden bowl, a small silver knife, pungent dry herbs tied in bundles. The smell reminded him of those nights when he’d climbed into her bed in the months after his parents died. Ben came too, and he’d fall asleep with his face buried in Grandmother’s hair and Ben’s foot sticking somewhere uncomfortable and the scent of those dried herbs hanging in the air. It smelled like safety. Like being stuck in his head, unable to climb out, only to have his grandmother reach a hand down and lift him free .
He touched the sleek blue bottle that had gotten him into this mess. “What’s all this?”
She gave him a soft smile. “I think it’s past time somebody in this family besides me learns how to break a bond.”
Oliver swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. They’d talked about doing this eventually, but she hadn’t brought it up in the past year. Not since he’d pulled away and she’d started doubting his abilities to be alpha. He wanted to ask if this meant she’d changed her mind—if she believed in him again—but the words caught in his throat and she was already reaching for the bottle.
“Now,” she said. “The first thing you’ll want to do is pour the bond nectar into a glass. I’ll show you how to make the nectar later, it’s a much longer process.”
She set a pristine glass on the desk and picked up the bottle, which still had the cork firmly in place.
He watched her mime pouring it. “Is the glass important?”
She stared down at it. “Well, otherwise you’d get it all over the desk.”
“No, I mean…” He gestured down at the delicate glass, its gentle patterns vaguely familiar. “Would any glass work? Is it a special glass? If we lose that golden bowl, can I buy another one from Pottery Barn?”
She considered as she set the bottle back down. “You don’t HAVE to. If it’s an emergency, you can use whatever receptacle you have lying around. Use a McDonald's cup if you have to. But Musgroves are proud to use the same items our ancestors have used for centuries. ”
“Of course,” Oliver said hastily.
“I’ll put you in touch with your cousins; they have more where these came from.” She tapped the golden bowl, a sweet sound ringing through her room. “Now we take the flower and burn the edges.”
She lit a match, miming that she was burning something. She met his eyes, and they stared at each other with the knowledge that they were both thinking about the debacle that had gone down in the hallway last week.
“You only need a few petals,” she said, miming shaking her hand out into the golden bowl.
“A few,” he prompted.
“Two,” she said. “Well, traditionally two. Really, it’s one for every person breaking the bond, so it depends on how many are in the bond. Then crush them in with the herbs.”
She picked up the dried herbs and crumbled some into the golden bowl, mashing it around with her fingers.
“Then you empty it into the glass,” she continued. “And you bleed into it.”
He made a face. “ Bleed into it?”
“Yes.” She held out the small silver knife to him. “Traditionally, the un-bonding pair will do it. Symbolizing that they are severing from each other.”
Oliver shifted uncomfortably. He took the knife, feeling the short, slim blade. This had to be the knife that cut the bond between Uncle Roy and his wife. The knife that cut the bond between however many Musgroves throughout however many generations.
He’d always assumed he wouldn’t bond with anyone. He’d get married, of course. But not every married couple bonded. He’d always been worried that it would be too much, constantly being able to feel their presence or the lack of it. Feeling the echoes of their emotions, maybe even knowing what they were thinking if the bond lasted long enough and ran particularly deep. After he left Arizona, he’d doubted whether he’d even get married. If he’d ever trust anyone enough to date again. He never thought he’d stumble into a bond. Especially not with someone like Luna, whose world was so separate from his she might as well have been from another planet.
He rolled the knife in his hand, imagining pressing it into her thumb. She wouldn’t heal fast like he would. She’d have to bandage it. He wondered if it would scar. The idea filled him with deep dread and equally deep want. He’d never let it happen; he’d cut her shallow and brief, barely enough for the drops of blood they needed. But he wanted something tangible for her to remember him by. He wanted her to lie in bed at night with her husband, rubbing her finger over the scar and remembering their time together. A stolen two months in a strange, snowy town where she once arranged a fair. Would she forget all about them when she left? Would she forget him?
“Oliver.”
Grandmother’s voice dragged him back. He placed the knife back on the desk, giving her a tight smile. “Is that it?”
She paused. Then she touched his arm, squeezing gently. She’d done it a million times before, yet Oliver still stiffened.
He wanted to be the guy who leaned into his family’s touch gladly. He used to be, once. He wanted to be Oliver from a year ago, who hadn’t betrayed them all by opening up to the wrong person and wasn’t this broken husk of a wolf who couldn’t even shift. Who felt like he didn’t deserve his family’s affection to the point where he got angry if they tried to give it to him.
He tried to make his arm relax. But it was too late, Grandmother’s hand dropping back to her side.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s it. The bond will sever, and you’ll be back to yourselves once more.”
Back to yourselves, Oliver thought. He rubbed his chest. It was getting warmer. Luna must be closer than he thought.
Grandmother cleared her throat. “So, she’s staying until the fair?”
“She’s thinking about it,” Oliver said, trying to yank back the feelings of respect and awe he’d felt at being shown the rituals of his family and banish all the stupid, useless regret that had risen when she gave him the knife. “It’d cut it pretty close, is the thing. The wedding is the day after.”
She hummed. Her gaze was back on her desk again, looking over the bottle, the knife, and the herbs crushed at the bottom of the golden bowl.
Oliver swallowed. “Grandmother. Showing me all of this. Does this mean you still?—”
The warmth in his chest pulsed, and he cut off as the door swung open.
“Found you,” Luna trilled, with a bright grin that said she’d been playing Hot and Cold with the bond to locate Oliver. “Do you know—oh! You’re doing secret ritual stuff!”
Her hands flew up to cover her eyes. Her nails were covered in bumpy blue nail polish. She’d let Darren or Leo at them last night, one child on each hand as they watched I Love Lucy reruns in the common room.
“I can’t see,” she announced. “I’m blind.”
“It’s fine,” Oliver said as Grandmother Musgrove draped a nearby dressing gown over the table. “What’s up?”
Luna dropped her hands and broke into another bright grin. “Aunt Althea says you know where the drill is. Joshua needs it for her fair stall!”
Oliver deadpanned, “We’re loaning drills to Joshua Haberdash now?”
Luna nodded. She clasped her hands under her chin, rocking side to side in a way that Oliver would deny was cute until the end of time.
He sighed. “It’s in the basement. I’ll show you.”
“Oh, you can keep…” Luna waved a hand at the cloth-covered table. She looked anxious, and he didn’t blame her. The last time she’d been in here, Grandmother was burning her only ticket out.
“We’re finished for now,” Grandmother said. “Give Joshua my best.”
She patted Oliver’ s back, light and fleeting.
Luna looked at Grandmother’s hand. Then she looked at Oliver, eyes widening pointedly. The bond in his chest flared hopefully, a distant echo of what she was feeling as she watched them.
Oliver clenched his jaw. Then he turned, catching Grandmother’s hand and squeezing—the first time he’d reached out to her in a year.
“Will do,” he said, leaving before he could catch her surprised expression turn soft with warmth.
Luna didn’t stop grinning all the way down the hallway.
“Quit it,” he told her.
She butted her head against his shoulder, wolf-style. “That was so cute ! She got so happy, oh my god. You should hug your whole family tonight; I want to see their faces—especially Uncle Roy’s.”
“He’ll think you talked me into it as a part of your secret plan to take down the family,” he reminded her.
“Probably,” she agreed, still bouncing along happily beside him. She even twirled.
He stood back so she didn’t crash into him. “ You’re in a good mood. You know Ben and Sabine aren’t back yet, right? They might’ve gotten kidnapped. Or fallen off a cliff. Don’t count your un-bonding chickens before they hatch.”
She shook her head. “I just got great news from a sponsor! They’re giving me all the money I asked for, and they’re promoting us all over Alaska! This fair is going to be amazing! ”
She twirled again. He didn’t step away this time, letting her elbow graze his chest. It sent a spark of heat into his ribcage, and Oliver tried not to wonder how many more times he’d get to have this. He still wasn’t used to the bond flourishing inside of him, sending out pulses of warmth whenever she got close. But it would be strange to never feel it again.
Luna yelped, foot skidding on the carpet. Her twirl turned into a fall, and Oliver reached out automatically to catch her. “Careful!”
She blinked up at him. She was pressed up against his chest, her hands splayed on his stomach where they’d flown out to catch herself. In the last few weeks, she’d touched him more than anyone had in a full year.
Oliver stepped back, nodding at the door at the end of the guest hallway. “Uh… basement’s down here.”
“Right,” Luna said. Her cheeks were flushed again. She’d been blushing more lately, which was odd. She’d touched his chest often enough. She’d touched his bare skin, touched it sweaty and heaving, touched him while he was inside her. There was no reason for her to stand there blushing after he did something so innocent as stopping her from stumbling.
“Don’t fall,” he called behind him as he headed down the basement ramp.
“Ha, ha,” she said, following him down. She sounded distracted, but she was back to her usual peppy self when she continued, “You remember we don’t all have night vision, right? It’s dark down here.”
“We don’t have night vision ,” he said. “We just see?— ”
“Better, I know. Lights please!”
He flicked on the light switch.
Luna squinted in the dim light. “Not much better. Okay! Where’s that drill?”
Oliver headed over to the workbench and pulled open a drawer.
Luna frowned around at the basement, which was mostly bare. “Looks a little empty.”
Oliver looked up from the drawer and waited for Luna’s face to light up with apologetic realization.
“Because your house burned down with all your stuff inside it!” She winced, giving him another stupidly cute smile. “Got it.”
He waited for the anger to surge back. It was definitely there, the same way it always was whenever someone brought up the fire. But it was a distant simmer compared to the raging heat it used to be.
He snorted, grabbing the drill out of the drawer and handing it over. “Do you know when we can expect this back? I’m not borrowing Jackson’s.”
“A few days. Maybe. I don’t know how long a stall takes to put together, and I don’t think Joshua does either. He’s a flower guy, not a building guy.” She looked at him, expectant.
“No,” he said automatically.
She leaned on his shoulder, batting her eyes.
He groaned loud enough that she giggled. “Jesus. Fine.”
“Thank you!” She twirled again, and he eyed her warily as she came to a stop on the concrete. “I’m going to miss this place. It’s so nice doing things for the community. If I want something at home, I just go and buy it!”
“Yeah,” he said flatly. “That must suck.”
“Ha.” She shrugged, her smile dimming. “It’s just nice, is all.”
She bit her lip, tucking the drill under one arm. He thought about asking her if she’d ever held a drill in her life. He could already picture her exasperated expression, not enough to wipe away the disappointment on her face.
He sucked in a bracing breath. “Everybody’s going to miss you.”
She blinked. The disappointment drained from her face in an instant, replaced by a teasing grin. She set the drill on a desk next to her, sliding a finger over the metal tip. “Everyone?”
“Sure,” he said, trying uselessly to stop his heart from speeding up as she walked closer. “Sabine finally had someone as competitive as her in board games.”
“Right,” she agreed. She came to a stop in front of him, their shoes touching. Even in the dim light, she was beautiful. Even bundled up on a hike or panting on a run. Even when she was yelling at him that first night, when she was nothing but a stranger he’d been chained to, he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away.
The bond fizzled in his chest. It was so close. It wanted closer. Oliver couldn’t pry it apart from his own want, burning just as bright .
“Are…” He tore his gaze from her tempting mouth. “Are you staying for the fair?”
She blinked. Her pupils were huge.
“I still need to ask Hector,” she said. “He still thinks I’m leaving as soon as the bond is broken. So…”
He frowned, indignation sneaking through the lust. “What? Why haven’t you told him about the fair?”
“Hmm?” Luna broke out into an aw-shucks smile, the fake one she used when she wanted to change the subject. “It’s nothing. I just?—”
“Did you not tell him it was important?” He scanned her face, trying to look under the cuteness crap. “Or did you tell him it was important, and he didn’t believe you?”
“Um,” Luna said quietly, voice climbing several pitches. “That’s—that isn’t?—”
She shook her head, leaning up. She slid her hands up his shirt again.
“How about,” she started, “we don’t talk about my fiancé when we were obviously just about to— Whoa, hey, why are you so tense?”
He shook his head. Someone was coming toward the basement door. He didn’t recognize his scent, but there was an uncanny feeling sinking into his bones as the footsteps approached.
“Seriously,” Luna said. “Is someone holding the front desk at gunpoint, or are you just still weirded out every time I talk about?—”
She cut off with a gasp as the door swung open.
“Hector!”