31 Reed #2
Something I’d been carrying came loose off my chest and lifted out into the summer air and was gone.
The screen door groaned on its spring behind me.
I knew who it was before the sound finished. The whole yard went to static. Del and Chas and their brisket, Tommy’s commentary, the baby, the crackle of the pit—all of it dropped away beneath the scent.
Clove and rain. And under it, the sweetness of honeysuckle, and new life.
I turned.
Avaline stepped out onto the porch in the low gold light, one hand on the doorframe, the other resting on the heavy curve of her belly.
She wore a soft sky blue summer dress, her feet bare on the warm boards, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders.
Her skin was flushed and warm in the sun.
The gold ring around her dark eyes shone steady and rich.
Her wolf sat right at the surface, content.
I closed my eyes and breathed her in—one long, deep pull all the way to the bottom of my lungs. Every knot down my spine let go at once.
A deep magma-rough purr rolled up out of my sternum.
“You’re doing the noise,” Avaline said, a smile in her voice.
“I’m doing the noise.”
Our mate, the wolf purred with me, basking in the scent of milk, honey, and rain. Our son.
“Half the crew can hear it, Reed.”
“Let them.”
I crossed the porch and placed my hands where they belonged—one spread wide over the heavy swell of our child, the other splayed across the small of her back.
I drew her against my chest, her spine to my sternum, resting my jaw against the crown of her head.
The purr vibrated through her ribs, and she leaned her full weight back into me.
Under my palm, the baby kicked.
A solid, unmistakable thump against my hand, followed by another.
A strong pup, my wolf murmured, full of fierce, quiet pride. Founding blood.
“He does that whenever you make the noise,” Avaline murmured. “Every time. He hears it and he knows he’s safe.”
I pressed my mouth to her hair and held the two of them tight.
Out in the grass, Brann shifted his sleeping daughter to one arm and reached down for the beer sitting in the clover beside him.
He lifted it—not to his mouth. To me. Across forty yards of thriving, roaring, impossible family, the Sovereign of a newly unified North America raised a bottle to the man who’d handed him the crown in a courtyard full of ash, and dipped his head.
Look what you built, he sent through the pack link. Look what you let go so it could grow.
I lifted my free hand to my chest and dipped my head back.
Across the sunlit meadow, the whole yard was alive with the deep, grounding resonance of completed bonds.
Down by the benches, Tommy was waving a pair of tongs mid-story, Kaia leaning against his hip and stealing charred brisket straight off his plate.
When Tommy caught her, he didn’t complain—he just wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed the corner of her mouth with a grin that lit up the whole meadow.
Near the herb garden, Finn and Sloane stood together in quiet conversation, their fingers laced, Finn’s slate gaze softening into rare, profound warmth as Sloane whispered something that made him smile.
Avaline turned in my arms.
She flattened her hands against my chest and looked up into my face. “I’m tired,” she said softly. “The good kind. The kind I get to have now. But there’s one thing we haven’t done yet.”
I looked down at her, the purr rumbling in my chest. “What’s that?”
“I’m finally ready, Reed,” she said, her gold-ringed eyes bright. “I want to meet my family.”
I knew what she meant. This was the first time since remaking the Compact and slaying the monsters behind the harvest of aurum latens that we’d all gathered together again.
I grinned, taking her hand and leading her down the porch steps toward the fire pit. The moment we stepped into the grass, the entire yard went quiet.
The brisket was finally unwrapped, steaming on the massive wooden picnic table, surrounded by paper plates, bowls of potato salad, and a dozen coolers. A true, messy Firehouse feast.
I stopped at the head of the table. I looked at the crew—my brothers, the women who fought beside them, our King, our witch allies—and then I looked at my mate.
I met her eyes with absolute, gravity-shifting sincerity.
The kind of truth that severs a person from their past and binds them to the Fireline.
“Welcome in,” I told her.
The moment the words left my mouth, the pack link hit her.
I felt the shockwave of it through our bond—a chaotic, deafening roar of more than two dozen protective, rowdy, fiercely loyal minds flooding her senses all at once.
It wasn’t the quiet intimacy of our mating bond.
It was a wall of noise, affection, and absolute belonging.
She gasped, her hands flying to her chest as the sheer volume of her new family embraced her.
“About time,” Tommy yelled over the mental roar. “We were starting to think Reed was too scared to share the link. Or maybe his wolf is just a possessive bastard.”
“I’ll put you through a wall, Tommy,” I growled, but there was no heat in it.
“See?” Santos laughed, tossing a brisket end onto Tommy’s plate. “Possessive bastard.”
The tension broke, the irreverence washing away the heavy emotion. Before I could pull her closer, Wren, Nell, Genny, Kaia, and Sloane materialized from the crowd. They circled Avaline smoothly, effectively boxing me out with the coordinated precision of a Hotshot squad.
“Welcome to the circus,” Nell said, looping an arm through Avaline’s.
“We have a support group for dealing with their brooding,” Wren added, her dry, practical tone completely at odds with the warm smile she offered. “We meet on Tuesdays.”
“And if you need someone intimidated,” Genny said, her voice a little feral as she bumped her shoulder against Avaline's, “just point.”
“Ignore her. If you need paperwork filed correctly,” Kaia adjusted the collar of her shirt with practiced bureaucratic grace, and then added a smile, “come to me.”
Sloane laughed, a bright, effusive sound that reached all the way to her sharp tactical eyes. She reached out and gave Avaline's hand a firm squeeze. “Or if you just need a place to hide a body, we've got you covered.”
Avaline looked around the circle of women, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and let out a bright, breathless laugh. She belonged to them now. She was home.
*\*\*\*/*/*/*
After the feast, as the sun settled low over the western pines, the yard began to quiet into evening. Avaline leaned back against me, letting out a soft sigh.
“Come inside.” I brushed my thumb over the silver mating mark on her neck. “I’ve got you.”
“You always say that.”
“It’s always true.”
She smiled, and I guided her through the door, letting the screen door click shut on the quiet yard.
I lit the lamp on the low dresser, turning the wick down until the bedroom glowed honey-warm.
She stood in the center of the room and reached for the tie of her dress. I stepped up behind her. “Let me.”
“I can undress myself, Reed.”
“I know,” I answered, working the knot loose. “Let me anyway.”
I eased the fabric from her shoulders and let it pool on the floorboards. She stepped free, turning to face me in the lamplight.
A few months ago I had knelt on the floor of the old cabin and wept against her knees because I couldn’t believe she was alive. Now she stood before me full with the life we had made together, radiant and whole.
“You’re staring,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Reed.” She stepped in, pressing her palms flat to my chest, her gold-ringed eyes commanding. “Take your shirt off and get in the bed.”
I pulled the shirt over my head and tossed it aside. She dragged her fingertips down the scars across my ribs, then pressed her palm over the purr vibrating in my chest.
“Lie down,” she said. “On your back.”
I settled onto the mattress. She moved over me slowly, mindful of the swell between us, until she sat astride my hips with her hands braced on my shoulders.
“There it is,” she murmured, rocking her hips against mine. “You’re going to hold still, and you’re going to let me have you. Can you do that, husband?”
“Anything you want,” I rasped, anchoring my hands to the sheets. “I’m yours.”
“I know you are.”
She guided me to her entrance, slick and hot, and sank down slow, taking me inch by inch with her head tipped back and a long shuddering breath breaking from her lips. I gripped her hips lightly to ground the sheer intensity of it, holding still as she set the rhythm.
She seated herself completely against me and let out a soft sigh.
“Look at you,” I whispered.
“I’m looking at you.” She began to move in slow, rolling waves, her hands flat on my chest for balance. “This body is mine. Say it.”
“It’s yours. Everything I am is yours.”
She leaned down over me, her hair spilling across my cheeks, setting an unhurried pace.
I wrapped my arms around her back, holding her secure in the lamplight, letting her claim every stroke.
When the climax began to crest through her, she buried her face in my throat, her inner walls tightening hard around me.
I rolled us gently onto our sides, driving deep and slow into her warmth, following her over the edge as her name broke from my lips.
We came down tangled in the sheets, her leg hooked over mine, my palm spread wide over her belly.
She kissed my jaw. “The noise,” she murmured, her eyes growing heavy.
“Can’t help it.”
“Good.” She pressed her back into my chest, lacing her fingers with mine. “Run in the Loom with me. Through the silver grass.”
“I’m right behind you,” I whispered, pressing my lips to the back of her neck. “Go on. I’ll find you.”
“You always do.”
Her breathing slowed into deep, peaceful sleep. The honey light faded into silver, and I followed my mate into the dream.