Chapter 16
CADE
Rowan’s wolf runs just ahead of me, all raw power and moonlit beauty, her fur glinting like silver threaded through the clouds.
My paws strike the earth in a steady rhythm, lungs burning with the kind of exertion that feels more like worship than labor.
Every time I glance her way, something restless claws through my chest, fierce and undeniable.
She’s glorious. More than I ever could have imagined when I came barreling toward NightShade with only death on my mind.
Her presence is magnetizing. The need to be closer to her essence grows stronger the longer we’re out under the stars, and I’m beginning to think that’s only partially because of the bond.
My wolf bounds with a lightness I’m not sure we’ve ever known. His tail is high and ears forward as we chase after her.
Our mate, he practically sings. Finally free.
The bitterness that usually gnaws at me is silenced here, running at her side. In this form, with the night around us and no council breathing down my neck, I don’t want to be anything but this.
Though our bubble can only last for so long. The sensible part of me knows that by being out here, with her energy radiating the way it is, we’re asking for trouble.
So, when the ground softens and the trees thin, I start to slow. Rowan’s wolf does the same until we come to a full stop, closer to the manor.
She shakes out her coat, still glowing in moonlight, and I’m consumed with a need so significant, I nearly forget how to function. Even my wolf bows toward her, overwhelmed by her strength and beauty.
She’s going to change the world, but not how they expect, he says, and I hope like hell he’s right.
But it doesn’t matter.
I know right now, regardless of which choices she makes, I’d follow her into the light or the darkness. Right or wrong no longer mean what they used to before I found her.
But I still know that I need to keep her safe, which means it’s time to shift back.
I transform first, so I can walk her through the process. The change comes quickly, with no time to feel pain. When I’m back on two feet, I feel my clothes return and realize one crucial thing.
Rowan doesn’t have the rune I do.
“You can’t shift yet,” I say, trying to explain why, but her wolf doesn’t give me the chance.
Apparently, these two are one of a kind because the stubborn beast narrows her eyes and calls the energy back inside her.
It’s not fluid. It’s not painless. I see the ripple of agony in her multi-faceted eyes as fur recedes, bones snap, and the sound of her body contorting makes my own spine ache in sympathy.
Still, she doesn’t falter. There’s no hesitation.
Just Rowan, taking the pain head-on like she was born for it.
And then she’s standing there, naked as the day she was born.
For one suspended heartbeat, she doesn’t notice. She even arches a brow at me, hand cocked on her hip with dangerous confidence. “You were saying what now?”
That’s when the realization hits her.
Her gaze drops, her face pales, and a screech shatters the night, so sharp it probably wakes the dead.
I don’t mean to laugh. I really don’t. But Rowan is shrieking like a banshee in the middle of the damn forest, sprinting for the tree line, and her glorious, round ass is flashing like some kind of moonlit beacon. It’s almost too much to take in.
“Quit looking at me!” she yells, diving into the bushes. Branches snap and scratch at her porcelain skin as she tucks herself deeper into the undergrowth, which only makes the situation worse.
In her scramble to cover herself, she moves with all the grace of a drunken fawn, and then suddenly goes quiet. The silence is alarming enough that I take a cautious step forward, only for her to shout again. “Damn it, Cade. You could’ve warned me!”
The corners of my mouth twitch, and despite her fury, I hear the laughter hiding in her voice. She wants to be angry, but the absurdity of it all is winning.
Right on cue, Liz blurs into the clearing, nearly bowling into a tree in her rush. “Where is she? What did you do to her?”
From the depths of the bushes, Rowan’s arm shoots skyward like she’s signaling for rescue. “I’m right here. Safe and…naked. Some clothes would be nice.”
Liz glances over at me, and it doesn’t take long for her to understand and join in with her own chuckles. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hurry, please!” Rowan calls after her. She sits up just enough to glare at me, dirt streaked across her cheek, hair tangled with twigs, yet somehow still managing to glow with wild beauty. “If I get ants in my butt crack, Cade, I swear you’ll never sleep soundly again.”
“Noted,” I rumble, trying not to grin. I tug at my shirt. “I could give you this.”
“Don’t you come any closer.” Her cheeks redden, and I want to press the topic, especially since we need to talk, and her being naked isn’t going to get that done. I know I wasn’t the only one who felt the bond back there. I sensed her reactions, and I’m not going to soon forget them.
But Liz returns, a piece of clothing in hand.
“Iris gave this to me.” She tosses the oversized dress at Rowan, who turns her nose up at it, but the vampire just shrugs and adds, “You told me to hurry.”
“I meant…argh. Fine.” She holds the pink material over herself and shakes her head. “A muumuu. A motherfreaking muumuu.”
I clamp down on the laugh threatening to rip free as my wolf’s chuckles echo through my head. She’s ours. Every wild, furious inch of her.
“Rowan,” I start, voice rough with the effort it takes not to grin, “it’s not that—”
She lifts her chin, eyes blazing. “Finish that sentence, and I swear I’ll maul you the moment I figure out how.”
And I have no doubt that she will.
Iris huffs into the clearing with Archie draped over her shoulder.
She waves a hand as though we should be proud that the world likely just heard her granddaughter screaming bloody murder.
“Well, at least you’ve got good lungs. Prescott women always do.
Handy for both surviving and calling for supper. ”
Archie bolts from her shoulder and launches himself at Rowan.
They share a moment of connection that makes my jealousy flare.
The way he goes to her without hesitation and the way she clings to his small rodent-like body…
It’s not fair, and the need for her to touch me like that is almost too much to bear.
Suddenly, more than anything else, I want that. I want her to turn to me and my presence to ease all her worries.
And the ache of it nearly unmakes me.
Iris continues to flap a hand around like she’s announcing a fashion show. “Be grateful, Rowan. That muumuu is vintage—prime date-night material. I wore it once when the butcher and I got frisky behind the deli counter. You could do worse.”
Rowan’s mortified groan rattles through the trees. “I should have just taken the stupid shirt.”
Archie chitters. “You’ll look fabulous. Like a deranged couch cover, but fabulous.” He presses his nose to the fabric. “And it smells freshly washed at least.”
“Like that’s helpful,” she deadpans.
Rowan doesn’t emerge right away. The bush rustles like she’s wrestling with a demon and not a dress. Then, with a dramatic sigh that could rival Iris’s theatrics, she steps out.
The muumuu drowns her. Bright pink fabric with white polka dots swallow her frame, the hem dragging across the dirt like she’s wearing grandma’s curtains. The neckline slips off one shoulder, and she keeps tugging at it like it might magically transform into jeans and a sweatshirt.
“Ta-da,” she deadpans. “Rowan Prescott: the not-human, hybrid abomination, and walking fashion disaster.”
Archie snickers as he scurries upward to take his place around her neck. “I told you. Fabulous.”
Liz tries, but she’s just as hopeless. Her shoulders shake, hand clamped over her mouth, until the sound that escapes is half-snort, half-wheeze. Even Elias, quiet as a damn ghost in the background, clears his throat like he’s choking on laughter.
I should say something reassuring. Anything to soften the humiliation etched across Rowan’s face. Instead, the only words that come out are, “It suits you.”
Her glare could fell kingdoms. “Oh, shut your mouth.” She crosses her arms, which only puffs the muumuu more, the pink fabric ballooning like a circus tent.
My wolf howls with laughter in my mind, no help at all. I school my face and step closer, my voice pitched low so only she can hear. “For what it’s worth, my wolf still wants you—this way or any other.”
Her cheeks flame, and her eyes spark with fire. She doesn’t back down, not from me, not from this. And gods help me, that only makes me want her more.
“Let’s get you inside,” I mutter before Iris decides to accessorize her granddaughter’s humiliation. “You’ve had enough of an audience tonight.”
Rowan scoffs but doesn’t argue. She stalks ahead, head high, every inch of her wrapped in pink polyester pride. And still, somehow, she makes even that look powerful.
Rowan is halfway to the door when Iris finally pipes up, voice bright as sunshine and twice as unhelpful.
“Wait! That muumuu would look much better with a belt. Oh, my fanny pack. Yes, that’s what you need to feel more comfortable. No woman should be without their emergency supply.”
Rowan stops dead in her tracks, her entire body going rigid. Slowly, she turns her head, eyes narrowed to slits. “If you come anywhere near me with a fanny pack, Iris, so help me—”
Archie chortles from her shoulder. “I vote fringe.”
“Traitor,” Rowan mutters, clutching the muumuu tighter as she storms inside, dignity dangling by a thread.
Iris, unfazed, pats Liz’s arm with a sage nod. “Mark my words. One day, she’ll thank me for my fashion sense.”
While the dress was an entertaining touch, nothing else Iris has to say means anything to me.
I turn away from her, intent on going to check the property perimeter before I head back inside.
This might have been a much-needed moment, but I haven’t forgotten the danger that’s likely coming closer the longer we’re here.
Elias steps into my path, his eyes darkened. “We need to talk.”
Of course we do.