Page 1

Chapter

One

HAZEL

“Honestly, Hazel, you're thirty-five, not fifteen. The Blackwoods received the highest bid for your contract in coven history. When are you going to take your position in this family seriously?"

My mother's voice crackled through the speaker, her irritation carrying clearly despite the poor reception at the edge of pack territory.

"I am taking it seriously," I replied, adding another splash of wine into the coq au vin. Half for the sauce, half for me.

"That's why I moved out here three years ago, remember?" I reminded her. "To woo my big bad wolf properly?"

The cottage's kitchen was small but efficient; every herb and spice within easy reach. No magickal summoning, no floating ingredients, no enchanted stirring spoons. Just me, my hands, and the old copper pots I'd collected over the years. The silver charm bracelet on my wrist caught the afternoon light, a constant reminder of the contract signed at my birth.

Through the phone, I heard the distinctive tinkle of several items moving at once, indicative of Mother orchestrating a small symphony of magickal multitasking while she lectured me.

Never waste a moment! Efficiency, efficiency.

Show-off.

"Moving closer to the Black Pine pack was supposed to expedite the consummation, not give you an excuse to play princess in the woods while Xavier makes eyes at that she-wolf," she snapped.

Spoon still in my hand, I paused.

"He's not making eyes at anyone," I said, ignoring the tiny voice reminding me how Xavier and Evangeline danced at last month’s supernatural summit..

"And I'm hardly playing princess. I'm creating a home. Building a life. You know, those little details you skipped when you auctioned me off before I could even cry?"

"You're doing mundane work that any human could do," she countered. "You're a Blackwood witch, Hazel. Or at least you will be, once you stop insisting on this ridiculous romantic notion of yours and complete the contract."

I checked the roasting vegetables, their edges caramelizing to perfection. The scent of herbs, including rosemary and thyme that I'd grown myself, filled the warm air.

"Excuse me for wanting my first time to be about more than just unlocking magick," I bit out. "Some of us prefer our sex with a side of actual feelings."

Mother clucked over the phone. "Your sister didn't need all this...domesticity to unlock her powers."

I choked back the desperate laugh in my throat.

"Yes, well, Catherine always was an overachiever," I admitted with ill grace. I adjusted the table settings, making sure Xavier's favorite wine glass caught the light just so. The good crystal, partof a set my grandmother had given me when the contract was first signed.

"Besides, you know Xavier wanted to wait until he was settled as Alpha," I assured her. "He takes his responsibilities seriously. You know the reports of the paranormal children trafficking have been getting worse and he’s had a lot on his plate trying to keep the pack children protected."

A series of rapid clicks echoed through the phone. I imagined several of Mother's infamous bracelets hitting the counter as she gestured.

"And now? What's the excuse now that he's been Alpha for two years? The trafficking isn’t a good enough excuse," she demanded.

I glanced at my garden through the window. Late spring roses climbed the trellis I'd built myself. Their deep red petals caught the dying sunlight, seeming to glow from within. The unusually fierce winds from earlier had settled, though the weatherman had predicted clear skies all week. These sudden storms had been happening more frequently lately, defying forecasts and leaving meteorologists baffled. I'd spent three years cultivating this place, turning it into the perfect blend of witch heritage and wolf comfort. That was three years of learning to cook his favorite meals, of hosting pack gatherings, of trying to show him that our arranged marriage could be more than just a magickal transaction.

Surely, I'd earned my keep.

Surely, I'd earned his respect.

Perhaps even his love.

"Actually," I said, smoothing my apron with slightly trembling hands, "he's coming for dinner tonight. And I think...I think we're both ready."

The silence on the other end was deafening.