Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Two days later, mating season hit Devils Point like a fever.
Gray felt it in the tightness of his muscles as he watched kayakers slice through the morning water, that restless energy that made unmated wolves pace and prowl.
Lily wasn’t speaking to him unless forced and it was driving him mad.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t slept since the bonfire and that only added to his wolf’s agitation.
He’d tried. But he only spent hours staring at his ceiling while his wolf paced and snarled through his mind, replaying every word from the beach.
Would that really be so bad?
The question had seemed reasonable at the time—practical, even. A solution to keep her safe and the pack protected.
Now it felt like he’d suggested cutting off her arm and calling it a favor.
Last night, when he’d finally given up on sleep, he’d gone back to the beach and found it still covered in thorny roses. They were massive blooms the color of dried blood, their stems thick as his wrist and covered in sharp spikes. Beautiful and deadly and completely out of his control.
Just like her.
His wolf had been furious with him all night, constantly snarling at him to fix it. But right now, he didn’t know where to start. He’d hurt her badly enough to make flowers explode and her eyes go cold.
At 5:00 exactly, he heard her footsteps on the stairs.
He was already in the brewhouse, had been since four. He straightened as she entered, the latest apology he’d been rehearsing dying on his tongue when he saw her face.
Professional. Blank. Like she was greeting a stranger instead of the man who’d held her wrist and felt her pulse race under his thumb.
She walked past the morning buffet without so much as a glance and headed in his direction. He held his breath, hoping.
“Morning.” Her voice was perfectly polite. Perfectly empty. She moved past him to the brewing station, not quite close enough to touch, and started her prep work with mechanical efficiency.
“Lily,” He took a step toward her. “About the other night—"
“The morning batch needs attention.” She cut him off without looking at him. “Temperature’s dropping.”
He wanted to push, but after what he’d said the last time, he didn’t trust himself not to make it worse. “Okay.”
She adjusted the valve, her movements tight and controlled. Then, without looking at him, she asked “Am I fired?”
The question came out flat. Practical. Like she was already planning her next move.
“What? No!” The shock in his voice made her glance up briefly. “No, Lily. You’re not fired.”
“Okay.” She turned back to the brew, but some of the tension left her shoulders.
“I promised you at least a week. That still stands.”
She froze, waited a heartbeat and then gave him a quick nod. He wanted to kick himself for adding on that last bit, but it was done. She was still here, and it didn’t appear she was trying to leave.
That was something and it settled his wolf temporarily.
They worked in silence. Not the comfortable quiet of the past few days, but something brittle and strained. Every time he moved toward her, she found a reason to shift away. When he tried to catch her eye, she was suddenly fascinated by grain measurements.
His wolf whined, low and distressed, he really wanted this fixed.
But how the hell was he supposed to do that?
By mid-morning, the early batches were done and the brisk air had made way for something warmer when the sun finally broke through the clouds.
Festival preparations were in full swing and several of them were setting up their booths, Lily included. She’d volunteered for the tasting booth today and was taking that job serious by carrying half the brewpub supplies into their outdoor tent.
When she lifted a case of bottles, her red hair caught the breeze, bright against the orchard colors behind her. And when she bent to check the crate labels, her shirt rode up, exposing a strip of pale skin that made his mouth go dry.
Focus. Look at something else.
“It’s going to be a crazy day,” Mara said, stepping up beside him. “Not the best time for you and your wolf to forget where you are.”
He cringed. It turned out Mara’s voice in his ear while he eye fucked Lily was the perfect thing he needed to get his head on straight.
While she might be the best admin he could have hoped for, her words were the equivalent of ice water being dumped over his head.
She was right though…
The island buzzed with energy, mating season making every unmated wolf restless and territorial. Gray had already broken up two fights between pack members over nothing but proximity and hormones.
And his own wolf? Fucking miserable. Every time another male got within ten feet of Lily, he had to fight the urge to put himself between them.
Not because they were a threat to her, but because his wolf was terrified she’d decide any of them would be better than a man who’d suggested she’d be better off powerless.
“Everything’s under control,” he said back to her.
“Right.” She shook her head and walked off, but he caught the low rumble of her laughter as she went.
“Your booth’s looking good,” Tom, an off island local Gray recognized as a new brewery regular called out, setting up his chili station nearby. “That autumn ale you’re serving is the talk of the festival.”
Gray fought to keep the smirk from his face.
Everyone got invited to participate in the competitions, including the humans. Not only was it good for business, but it helped them integrate naturally into the community without leaving the island.
“Thanks,” Gray said, watching Lily arrange everything with the same careful precision she’d used in the brewhouse.
“First time competing,” Tom continued, apparently oblivious to the tension. “Figured I’d show these locals what real Texas chili tastes like.”
Lily glanced over, and for the first time in days, something flickered in her expression. Not quite a smile, but close. “What kind are you making?”
“My grandmother’s venison recipe. She always said it could raise the dead.”
“Sounds wild.” The warmth in her voice was genuine, if subdued. “I’d love to try it.”
Gray’s chest tightened. She still offered kindness to strangers. Still cared about people even while she was hurting. The magic and the heart weren’t separate things, they were woven together so tightly you couldn’t have one without the other.
“Tell you what,” Tom said, grinning. “You folks help me not embarrass myself, and I’ll make sure you get the first bowl.”
Lily looked at Gray, question in her eyes. He nodded before he could overthink it. “What do you need?”
An hour later, they were clustered around Tom’s station while judges called for final preparations. The Texan transplant looked confident until his propane regulator started hissing.
“Shit.” Tom cranked the valve, but gas kept leaking. “This thing’s shot. No way it’ll hold flame long enough to finish cooking.”
His face fell, three hours of prep crashing into mechanical failure. Gray glanced at Lily, saw the same thought in her eyes.
“Use our tent’s stove,” she offered, voice still careful but warming. “It’s small, but it’ll work.”
“I couldn’t—”
“It’s just sitting there. We were going to warm some cider, but everyone just wants the ale.” She was already moving, gathering Tom’s ingredients. “Besides, I want to see if that chili really can raise the dead.”
They spent the next hour rebuilding Tom’s recipe from scratch. Gray handled the technical aspects while Lily worked, and despite the strain between them, they fell into sync. She anticipated his needs. He covered her blind spots. The partnership was still there, even if everything else felt broken.
And her magic, because it was her magic, he could see that now, made the spices bloom richer. Made the chili smell like comfort and home and everything good in the world.
“How’d she do that?” Tom muttered, stirring the darkening mixture. “Never seen my recipe come together so fast.”
Gray watched her explain something to a customer sampling their ale, using her hands to gesture, the genuine interest on her face making the tourist light up.
The kindness wasn’t an act. And her magic was as much a part of that as anything else.
It was all one thing—Lily, with her power and her heart and her eagerness to help.
I’d suggested she didn’t need that integral part of herself.
The realization sliced through his emotions until they were raw.
No wonder she’d walked away.
His wolf settled with something that felt like relief.
As far as his wolf was concerned, he’d finally gotten his head on straight, and now he could make things right.
When the judges announced the winners, Tom clutched his second-place ribbon like Olympic gold. “I can’t believe it. My Grandmother would’ve been so proud.”
“Of course she would,” Lily agreed, and the warmth in her voice wrapped around him even though it wasn’t intended for him—yet.
Tom pressed a twenty into her palm and a growl slipped out before he could stop it. Both Tom and Lily looked in his direction, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. The beast in him might have an issue with Tom touching his mate, but the human side of him knew better than to say a word.
A heartbeat later, Tom turned back to Lily. “I couldn’t have done this without your help. The least I can do is pay for the supplies.” Before anyone could say or do anything else, Tom was pulled away by some of his friends. Lily waved after him.
As the crowd dispersed, Gray found himself alone with her for the first time since the beach. Afternoon sun slanted golden through the trees, and the relative quiet felt heavy with everything unsaid between them.
“That was nice,” she said, watching Tom celebrate with other competitors. Her voice was softer now, some of the walls coming down.
“You didn’t have to help him.”
“Sure I did.” She turned to face him, and her eyes were less guarded than they’d been all day. “Everyone deserves a chance to succeed. Especially when they’re trying to honor someone they love.”