Chapter 7 #2
"You want my cousin in this situation anyways.
" Lily spoke up, her gaze steady on Willow's face.
"Witches like her draw their power from air—it's the element that carries heat, scent, the rise of bread, the steam off a simmering pot.
If something's changed in the atmosphere around that cove, Willow would feel it before any of us could smell or see it. She’s the best."
Willow felt the weight of Lily's support like a hand on her shoulder. Her cousin had forgiven her for things Willow still couldn't forgive herself for. Had vouched for her, again and again, in rooms full of wolves who remembered what Willow's mother had done.
She owed Lily more than she could ever repay. The least she could do was not let her down now.
"I can do it." The words came out before she could second-guess them. "If there's something supernatural affecting the island, I'll find it."
She didn't look at Ryker. She couldn't. If she looked at him, she'd see the reluctance written across his features, the way he'd rather work with anyone else, do anything else, than spend hours alone with her out on the beach.
"Good." Diego straightened. "Start tomorrow morning at first light. Report back by the end of the day."
Willow's hands went cold beneath the table.
"The rest of you keep the festival running smooth," Diego continued.
"We handle this quietly. No panic, no rumors.
The last thing we need is tourists hearing that something's wrong on the island.
" He turned to Cal. "We need extra eyes on the crowd.
Nothing obvious. Just our people blending in, watching for anyone who seems frightened or disoriented.
If this thing is affecting tourists in their sleep, it might spook them during the day too. "
Cal nodded. "I'll pull a few people. They can circulate, look like they're enjoying the festival."
"And keep the tourists away from the north side until we know what we're dealing with," Damien added. "Shift those vendors closer to the Marina and rope off the coastal trail. Tell them maintenance, slippery conditions, whatever sounds believable."
Chairs scraped against the floor as people rose. Conversations started up, low murmurs about logistics and schedules and all the normal concerns of a festival's opening day. Willow stood with the rest of them, her legs unsteady beneath her.
She’d done what she had to but still felt sick.
She moved toward the door, desperate suddenly for cool air and space to think. But Cal was blocking the exit, already on his phone pulling together the undercover security detail, and she had to wait while people filtered out around her.
"Willow."
Ryker’s voice came from behind her, low and rough. Close. So much so that she could feel the heat of him at her back.
She turned. He stood less than two feet away, close enough that she caught his scent—pine and woodsmoke and that darkness underneath that made her breath catch.
His blue-grey eyes held hers, and for a moment the shuttered blankness cracked.
She saw something raw beneath it. Something that looked almost like dread.
"Tomorrow," he said. "Dawn. I'll meet you at the trailhead past the inn."
"Fine."
"Wear layers. It's colder on the north side of the island, and we might be out there a while."
"I know how to dress for the weather."
His jaw tightened. "I'm just—" He stopped, ran a hand through his hair in that frustrated gesture she'd come to recognize. "Never mind. Dawn. Don't be late."
He pushed past her toward the door, and disappeared into the tasting room.
Willow stood frozen in the emptying office, her heart slamming against her ribs. Tomorrow she'd spend the entire day with him. Alone on the beach, searching for something random that was terrorizing tourists and pushing boats away from the cove.
She thought about the stockroom. The weight of his body against hers. The sound he'd made when she bared her throat.
A week of distance, and she'd almost convinced herself she could handle being near him again. But after ten seconds of conversation, her whole body was vibrating like a plucked string.
"You okay?"
Lily appeared at her elbow, concern written across her features. The office had emptied, the alphas having moved into the tasting room to continue coordinating, leaving them alone in the glass-walled space.
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine. You look like you're about to either throw up or punch something."
Willow let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "Maybe both."
Lily studied her for a long moment, something knowing in her expression. She didn't ask about Ryker because she didn't need to. Whatever Willow was failing to hide, her cousin could read it clearly enough.
"I swear he's not as hostile as he seems," Lily said quietly.
"He's just... having a hard time. Something happened a few years ago, before we came to the island. He got hurt badly, and he’s projecting that on you—" She stopped, seemed to reconsider her words.
"It's not my story to tell. Just give him time. And some extra patience. He’s going to come around. "
Willow wanted to ask what had happened, who had hurt him, why the pack seemed to tiptoe around whatever wound he carried. But Lily's expression had closed off, and pushing wouldn't get her anywhere.
"I'm not trying to—" Willow shook her head. "It doesn't matter. We have a job to do. As long as he keeps it cool, I can be professional."
"I know you can." Lily squeezed her arm. "But Willow? Be careful tomorrow. Not just with whatever's out there." Her gaze was steady, serious. "With yourself too."
Willow nodded, not trusting her voice.
She gathered her things and headed out into the cold, the warmth of the distillery fading behind her as she stepped back into the overcast afternoon.
The festival was still going strong, music drifting from the main stage, tourists lined up at the food trucks, and children's laughter rising from the igloos near the water.
The tourists moved through the festival like nothing was wrong, oblivious to the pressure she felt building at the edges of the island.
Tomorrow she'd hike into the unknown with Ryker at her side with no buffer of other people to keep him civil. And no escape for her if she lost control either way.
Tonight, she had to figure out how to survive being alone with a man who made her forget every reason she should keep her distance.
Because she had a feeling she was either going to kiss him or kill him and she honestly wasn’t sure which was more likely.
Although she was currently leaning one way over the other.
Willow pulled her hat back over her ears and started walking toward the marina, the icy wind cutting through her jacket and the weight of tomorrow pressing down on her shoulders.
Yeah. She was screwed either way.