Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
BECK
Three months.
That’s how long it had taken for the hollow ache in Beck’s gut to fade from a constant throb to an occasional twinge.
Three months of watching Junie and Leo orbit each other, of seeing her laugh in a way she never had before, of knowing—truly knowing—that he’d never been the one meant to make her that happy.
He was okay with it. Mostly. On good days.
Today was a good day.
The Siren’s Rest garden was transformed for the official mating celebration, draped in white and gold and the kind of fairy lights that made everything look like a dream.
Three months ago, Junie and Leo had exchanged vows in this same garden, their ceremony intimate and private.
This was the public version—the party Haven Shores had been waiting for, the excuse to drink champagne and dance and celebrate the fact that their favorite chaos witch had found her match.
Beck stood at the bar, nursing a whiskey he didn’t particularly want, watching the first dance.
Leo held Junie like she was precious—one hand at the small of her back, the other clasping her fingers. They moved well as a pair, which surprised exactly no one who’d seen them spar over the past few months. Even their arguments had a rhythm to them.
That was the thing about unrequited feelings—they had a shelf life.
Beck had spent years nursing his quiet attraction to Junie, telling himself that someday the timing would be right, that eventually she’d see him as more than a friend.
And then Leo had walked into town with his expensive suits and his cold eyes, and Beck had watched Junie come alive in a way she never had for him.
It had hurt. He wasn’t going to pretend it hadn’t.
But watching them now—Leo dipping Junie low while she laughed, the mate mark visible on her shoulder where her dress dipped—Beck felt nothing but ease. Not the burning kind of feeling. The gentle kind. The kind that came from genuinely wanting good things for people you cared about.
His wolf had never reacted to Junie the way Leo’s lion had.
Beck had told himself for years that it didn’t matter, that mate bonds were rare and plenty of shifters built happy lives without them.
But seeing the way Leo tracked Junie’s every movement, the way his entire body gravitated toward her like she was the center of his world…
Beck understood now what he’d been missing. What he’d been settling for.
His feelings for Junie had been real. They hadn’t been that.
“You’re brooding.”
Theo materialized beside him, because, of course, he did. The Alpha had an uncanny ability to appear exactly when Beck least wanted company.
“I’m contemplating.” Beck took a sip of his whiskey.
Theo leaned against the bar, following Beck’s gaze to the dance floor. “You okay?”
“I’m great. Excellent. Never better.”
“Beck.”
“I’m fine, Theo.” And he meant it. “Really. I’m happy for them.”
Theo studied him, doing that alpha thing where he seemed to see straight through every defense Beck had ever constructed. Then he nodded, apparently satisfied.
“Good. Because Avine’s about to make you dance with her aunt, and I need you functional.”
“Her aunt is eighty-seven years old.”
“And spry. She pinched my ass at the last pack gathering.”
Beck laughed—genuine, surprised—and the lingering melancholy dissolved. This was what he loved about Haven Shores. No matter how complicated things got, there was always someone ready to drag him back to the present.
Theo clapped him on the shoulder and disappeared into the crowd, probably to rescue some unfortunate pack member from Avine’s enthusiastic matchmaking relatives. Beck turned back to the bar, signaling for another whiskey he still didn’t want.
That’s when someone bumped into him.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry—”
Beck turned, an easy smile already forming, a quip about watching where she was going ready on his tongue.
The words died in his throat.
Auburn hair, darker than Junie’s but with the same wild curl. Eyes wide with embarrassment, a flush climbing her cheekbones.
His wolf went absolutely still.
Then: Mate.
The word thundered through him like a physical blow. Not a suggestion. Not a maybe. A certainty so profound, it rewrote everything Beck thought he knew about himself.
His wolf had never reacted like this. Not to Junie. Not to anyone. In twenty-nine years of existence, the animal had been content, quiet, occasionally interested but never urgent. Never this roaring, overwhelming demand that drowned out every other thought in Beck’s head.
“I wasn’t watching where I was going.” The woman was saying, oblivious to the fact that Beck’s entire world had shifted on its axis. “The crowd moved and I—are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Beck opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
“I’m fine.” His voice came out rough, scraped raw by the wolf’s demands. “I’m—yeah. Fine.”
Smooth. Real smooth.
She tilted her head, studying him with those green eyes—so like Junie’s and yet completely different. Where Junie’s gaze was sharp and assessing, always looking for the joke, this woman’s was curious. Analytical. The look of someone who examined things carefully before forming conclusions.
“You’re Beck, aren’t you?” She extended a hand. “I’m Rosemary. Junie’s cousin.”
Beck stared at her hand like it might bite him.
Take it, the wolf demanded. Touch her. Know her scent. CLAIM—
He took her hand.
The contact was electric. Not metaphorically—literally. A spark jumped between their palms, magic he didn’t know he possessed, reacting to magic he didn’t know she had. Rosemary’s eyes widened, and she jerked back like she’d been burned.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.” A lie. He knew exactly what it was. “Static electricity?”
“That wasn’t static electricity.” Her analytical gaze had sharpened, suspicion creeping in. “That was… different.”
Tell her, the wolf urged. She’s ours. She needs to know.
Beck had watched Leo fight his lion’s recognition for weeks. He’d seen what happened when a shifter tried to force a bond on someone who wasn’t ready. Whatever this was—and it was definitely real—it needed to unfold at her pace, not his wolf’s.
“I’m sorry.” He forced his voice into a semblance of normal. “Junie didn’t tell me she had a cousin coming.”
Rosemary’s tension eased slightly. “She didn’t know until last week. I’ve been traveling—research expedition in the South Pacific. I wasn’t sure I’d make it back in time for the celebration, but…” She shrugged. “Family’s family.”
“Marine biology.” Beck remembered now—Junie mentioning a cousin once, years ago. The non-magical branch of the Reed family. “You study… fish?”
Rosemary’s laugh was unexpected—low and hushed, nothing like Junie’s bright cackle. “Among other things. Cephalopods, mostly. Octopi. Squid.”
“Fascinating creatures, octopi.”
“You know anything about them?”
“Absolutely nothing. But I’m very willing to learn.”
There it was—that smile again, surprised and genuine. Beck’s wolf preened.
“Can I buy you a drink?” The words came out before Beck could stop them. “To apologize for the… static electricity.”
“You want to buy me a drink to apologize for a thing that wasn’t your fault?”
“I want to buy you a drink because I want to buy you a drink. The apology is a convenient excuse.”
Rosemary studied him again, that analytical gaze taking his measure. Beck held still, letting her look, trying not to seem as desperate as his wolf felt.
“One drink,” she said eventually. “But only because the open bar is making me feel guilty about not socializing.”
One drink turned into two.
Two turned into three.
By the fourth, they’d abandoned the bar entirely and found a quiet corner of the garden, away from the dancing and the noise and the well-meaning relatives who kept trying to drag Beck onto the dance floor.
Rosemary talked about her research—a six-month expedition studying deep-sea ecosystems, cataloging species that had never been documented.
Her eyes lit up when she described the creatures she’d encountered, the mysteries still waiting to be solved in the ocean’s depths.
She was passionate and brilliant and completely oblivious to the supernatural world her cousin inhabited.
Beck talked about the brewery, about pack life (carefully edited), about growing up in Haven Shores. He made her laugh with stories about Theo’s disastrous attempts at cooking and Avine’s ongoing war with the inn’s enchanted plumbing.
He didn’t tell her about the wolf. Not yet. That conversation required more than a party and four glasses of champagne.
But he wanted to. God, he wanted to.
“When do you leave?” he asked, when a lull fell in the conversation. “For the expedition.”
Rosemary’s expression flickered—a complicated emotion passing through her eyes. “Three weeks.”
Three weeks.
His mate was about to sail to the other side of the world.
The universe had a sick sense of humor.
“That’s not long.” Beck kept his voice light, even as his wolf howled in protest.
“No.” She looked down at her champagne glass. “It’s not.”
Silence stretched between them—charged, uncertain. Beck could feel his wolf straining against his control, demanding that he do something, say something, make her understand that she couldn’t leave because she was his and—
He took a breath. Centered himself.
What had he learned, watching Leo and Junie these past months? That mates weren’t obligations. That the bond was a beginning, not a guarantee. That the choice to stay, to try, to build a life—that choice mattered more than any instinct.
Leo had given Junie time. Had let her come to him on her own terms, even when his lion screamed for immediate claiming. And in the end, she’d chosen him freely. Completely. Because he’d respected her enough to wait.
Beck could do the same.
Or… he could be direct. Because he wasn’t Leo, and three weeks wasn’t three months, and some opportunities only came once.
“Have dinner with me tomorrow.”
Rosemary’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Dinner. Tomorrow. There’s a great Italian place on Harbor Street—Vito’s, run by the loudest couple you’ll ever meet. The pasta is incredible, and Bella will definitely try to adopt you, but I promise to protect you from excessive matchmaking.”
“That’s…” She blinked at him. “Very direct.”
“Life’s too short for indirect.” He held her gaze, letting her see the sincerity beneath the charm.
“You’ve got three weeks. I’ve got three weeks.
Let me have them. Let me show you Haven Shores—the real Haven Shores, not the party version.
Let me…” He paused, searching for words that wouldn’t sound insane.
“Let me get to know you. Before you sail away.”
Rosemary was quiet. Her green eyes searched his face, looking for lies, maybe, or ulterior motives. Beck let her look. He had nothing to hide.
Well. Almost nothing.
“I don’t do this,” she said slowly. “I don’t… meet someone at a party and agree to dinner. I’m not impulsive.”
“Neither am I.” Another lie. Beck was extremely impulsive. But for her, he could learn patience. “This isn’t impulsive. This is… following a hunch.”
“A hunch.”
“I’m very good at hunches.”
That surprised another laugh out of her—that low, hushed sound that made his wolf purr with satisfaction.
“Okay, Beck.” She smiled, and it was like watching the sun come out. “Three weeks. Dinner tomorrow. But if those restaurant owners try to adopt me, I’m holding you responsible.”
“Fair terms.”
Across the garden, the first dance had ended. Junie was surrounded by her friends now, Dahlia and Cassia and Narla pressing in for hugs while Leo watched with an expression of fond exasperation.
Beck caught Junie’s eye across the crowd. She looked at him, then at Rosemary, then back at him—and her grin turned absolutely wicked.
Oh no. She knows.
Junie raised her champagne glass in a silent toast, her meaning clear: About damn time.
Beck flipped her off because some friendships were built on mutual harassment, and turned back to Rosemary.
“Do you want to dance?”
“I thought you were hiding from the dance floor.”
“I was hiding from Avine’s aunt. You’re much better company.”