Chapter 8 #2
I wrapped my hands around my cup, letting the warmth seep into my palms. “What do you want to know?”
“You mentioned growing up at your grandmother’s manor with your cousins.”
“My parents were always busy with coven business. Building alliances, managing territorial disputes.” I took a sip of tea. “They loved me. They just didn’t have much time for me.”
Irritation flickered across his face.
“My grandmother pretty much raised me,” I said. “Along with my three cousins. Their parents died in an accident. Such a tragedy. The four of us spent all our time together. Always getting into trouble, experimenting with magic we probably shouldn’t have touched.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It was educational.” I smiled. “Adele nearly burned down the greenhouse once. Cyrene turned all the roses black for an entire summer. Sasha convinced a family of pixies to relocate to the library, and it took us months to get them out.”
“And you?”
“I may have accidentally created a compound that made everything it touched temporarily invisible. Including myself. For three days.”
His laugh caught me off guard. “Your grandmother must have loved that.”
“She was remarkably patient.” I set down my cup. “What about your family? You mentioned your father died when you were younger.”
The humor drained from his face. He stared into his tea for a long moment.
“I was nineteen when he died during a border skirmish with a rival pack. He was trying to negotiate peace, and they killed him for it.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story. “It was a long time ago. Thirteen years.”
“That doesn’t make it hurt less.”
His eyes met mine, raw pain flickering through in them before he looked away. “No. It doesn’t.”
I waited, letting the silence stretch. Sometimes people needed space to decide whether to keep talking or let it go.
“My mother left us when I was seven,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “Just shifted and ran off one day. She didn’t say where she was going or why. She didn’t even say goodbye. I don’t know if she’s alive or dead.”
The pain underneath his words made my throat close off tight. “You must have looked for her.”
“For years.” His jaw clenched. “Eventually I stopped. If she wanted to be found, she would’ve come back.”
I understood that particular kind of hurt, the one that came from being left behind by people who were supposed to stay. My parents hadn’t abandoned me the way his mother had, but they’d chosen their work over me often enough that I knew what it felt like to be an afterthought.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
Understanding passed between us, the acknowledgment of shared wounds.
“You turned out alright,” he said. “Despite them.”
“So did you. despite her.”
His mouth curved but it was more a grimace than a smile. “That’s debatable.”
I picked up a piece of bread, tore it in half, and offered him part. He took it, our fingers touching in the exchange.
As we ate, I tried not to think too hard about how easy this felt, how much I enjoyed getting to know this side of my alpha wolf husband.
When he finally stood to leave, he paused beside my worktable, looking at my scattered samples and notes.
“You’re close to discovering something,” he said.
“I think so. I just don’t know what it will be yet.”
He nodded and left, taking his exhaustion and carefully controlled pain with him.
I stared at the wall, that warm feeling in my chest growing stronger.
Two days later and after dinner, instead of retreating to the bedroom alone to read, I lingered in the sitting area where Feral sat in his chair, an open journal in his lap. I felt twitchy, though I couldn’t name why.
I stepped out onto the balcony, needing air and space to think.
Feral joined me at the railing.
We stood in the dark, the forest spreading out below us. Distant howls echoed through the trees, his pack calling to each other in the night. The scale of his territory stretched in every direction, vast and wild and beautiful.
“I found something,” I said.
He turned his head toward me, waiting.
I pulled out my notebook, though I didn’t really need it. I’d memorized every detail. “I’ve been running tests for the last few days, cross-referencing the results with every bit of information I have access to.”
“And?”
“It’s not a curse. It’s more like…” I searched for the right words. “A key that was turned. Something was buried there deliberately, possibly a long time ago. I believe it was triggered or disturbed within the past few years. That this is causing whatever’s interfering with their ability to shift.”
He stilled.
“The magical signature in the water points to old wolf magic. But it’s wrong somehow. Incomplete. Like a pack seal has been broken. I know it sounds—”
“A pack seal.” His voice came out flat.
“Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“My father mentioned them once. Old magic, used to bind packs to their core essence.” He gripped the railing. “If someone broke a seal…”
“The residue might look like what I’m finding. There’s magic involved in it. That much is certain. But this feels like an absence, something that should be there but isn’t.”
Silence stretched between us. I watched his profile, the way his jaw worked as he thought through the implications.
“The northern pack,” he said. “Their territory borders that creek.”
My stomach dropped. “You think they broke a seal?”
“I think someone did, whether they meant to or not.” He turned to face me. “This helps, more than you know.”
“I still don’t have all the answers.”
“You’ve raised questions. That’s more than I had yesterday.”
“What about you?” I asked. “How are the treaty negotiations going?”
His expression darkened. “They’re not.”
I waited.
He pushed away from the railing, pacing a few steps before stopping and turning back.
“I’m king of all the wolf packs in this region.
But several of the packs beneath me have been feuding for generations.
The northern pack with us especially. They’re the oldest, most traditional of the group.
Their alpha, Bastian, has never fully accepted my authority. ”
“Because you were young when you took over?”
“Because my father died before he could properly establish our line’s dominance.
I had to prove myself through strength rather than inheritance.
” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in all directions.
“The treaty is supposed to formalize peace between their pack and mine, but the northern alpha is using the negotiations as leverage.”
“To challenge you.”
“If the treaty fails, I look weak. If I concede too much to get it signed, I also look weak.” Frustration bled through his voice. “I’ve been trying to solve it through dominance. Showing strength. That’s not working.”
I considered that, turning the problem over in my mind. Political maneuvering wasn’t my area of expertise, but people were predictable in certain ways. Most wanted power, recognition, and security.
“He doesn’t want the treaty,” I said.
Feral’s head snapped toward me.
“He wants to be seen making you need him,” I said, working through it out loud. “If he signs, he’s acknowledging your authority. But if you have to negotiate and compromise, even ask for his cooperation, that puts him on an equal footing.”
“You’re suggesting the treaty itself doesn’t matter to him.”
“The process matters. The visible power it gives him.” I met his eyes. “Give him a role in enforcing it rather than signing it. Make him responsible for maintaining the peace between the packs. He gets authority, you get the treaty, and everyone saves face.”
He stared at me.
I shifted, easing my side against the railing, suddenly uncertain about my suggestion. “Or that might not work at all. I don’t know much about wolf politics.”
“It’s brilliant.”
“Oh.”
“Absolutely brilliant.” He moved closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
I’d spent thirteen years proving strength was the answer. Old habit.
“You’ve been trying to think like an alpha. Sometimes you need to think like a researcher. Look at the variables, find the pattern. Then the solution becomes clear.”
“I might have something for you too,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Old pack-sealing magic is buried near border markers. They chose specific locations, usually near water sources or natural boundaries. If someone broke a seal, deliberately or not, the residue would look exactly like what you’re describing.”
My mind raced, recalibrating everything. “There might be other markers. Other broken seals.”
“If this is happening at multiple sites, it could explain why the sickness is spreading.”
“And if we can find a pattern among broken seals, we might be able to predict where the sickness will appear next.”
“And we might be able to fix the seals. Repair them somehow.”
We both went quiet as the implications settled over us.
We’d just made progress on two separate problems by talking it out together. The realization sat between us, and I found it quite significant, though I didn’t know what to do about it.
Things felt different between us. Charged. He stood close, with moonlight caught in his dark hair. Warmth radiated from him despite the cool night air.
Inside, through the open door, I could hear Acorn’s soft snores from the sofa. At least he wasn’t offering commentary on whatever was happening between Feral and me.
“I expected a wolf king to be less useful in a research context,” I said, aiming for a light tone.
“I expected a witch to be less useful in political negotiations.”
The corner of my mouth tugged up. “I suppose we’re both full of surprises.”
“I suppose we are.”
We both looked out at the forest. Then we both looked at each other.
He moved first, but slowly. Giving me time to step back, to stop this before it started.
I didn’t.
His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. The touch sent heat spiraling through me, scattering every logical thought I possessed.
Then he kissed me. It wasn’t a passionate claiming or a tentative question, but something in between. A door opening. An invitation offered with the chance to turn it down.
I didn’t.
His mouth was firm and sure, the faint scrape of his stubble on his face sending a shiver across my skin. My hands lifted on their own, and I gripped the front of his shirt as I leaned into him, as if my body had already decided this was where it fit.
Warmth poured through me, melting something I hadn’t even realized I was holding tight, until the world narrowed to the press of his mouth and the steady way he held me.
When he drew back, the cool night air rushed in, and I swayed toward him before I could stop myself, my thoughts scattered across the balcony floor.
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering. “Victoria.”
The possessive way he said my name turned my bones to honey.
I stepped back first, because if I didn’t put distance between us, I was going to do something profoundly unstrategic, like kiss my husband again.
“Goodnight,” I said, though it came out breathless.
A slow smile curved his mouth, his eyes still bright and intent on mine. “Goodnight, wife.”
I went inside on unsteady legs, washed, and brushed my teeth, then climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling.
My enchanted pen sat on the bedside table, forgotten earlier when I’d been too distracted by dinner and Feral’s presence to put it away.
It lifted into the air, floated over to my notebook, and wrote a single notation without me dictating anything.
I turned my head to read.
In my own handwriting, it said: Hypothesis confirmed.
From the sofa, Acorn let out a sleepy, satisfied chitter.
I closed my eyes, my lips still tingling, and tried not to smile.
I failed completely.