Page 32 of Accidentally Wedded to a Werewolf (Claw Haven #1)

He didn’t bother slowing as he strode down the hall.

“Wow, okay, we’re in a hurry then,” Luna said, jogging to catch up. “What happened?”

“Don’t know,” he replied, not looking at her. “Grandmother said to meet her in the common room. She said it’s about the flower.”

“What, is it defective? Did we grab the wrong one?”

He ignored her. If he looked at her right now, she might be able to see the idiotic hurt on his face. Or worse, feel it through the bond.

He should’ve known better, he berated himself as they headed for the common room.

This was why he didn’t trust strangers. You never knew what they were thinking.

He’d been stupid enough to believe they were letting their guard down around each other, that they knew each other, that they might even care about each other.

And all along, Luna thought he was that same rude jackass who yelled at a woman for trying to find a place to stay during a snowstorm.

“Um,” Luna called behind him, still jogging. “Hello? Am I going to be able to make my wedding next month or not?”

“You’ll make it,” he snapped.

His claws popped out. He forced them back into his nail beds, gritting his teeth. Was she lying to him when she said she thought he’d be a good alpha? Was there anything true about her, or was she really only helping Musgrove Inn because she was bored?

He stalked into the common room. It was empty apart from Grandmother Musgrove, who was standing in the middle of the room with her shawl pulled tight around her despite wolves’ hot blood and the heater on full blast.

“Hello,” she said as Luna ran in behind Oliver. “The door, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Luna closed it. Oliver could feel her questioning gaze on his face. He didn’t look at her.

Grandmother cleared her throat. She stroked a hand down her shawl, a thick multicolored garment that had been around since before Oliver was born.

It was one of the only things they’d managed to salvage from the fire back at their old home.

Grandmother had dug it out of the rubble, covered in ash but otherwise unscathed.

“The flower was unfortunately destroyed,” she started. “During the preparation process. I’m so sorry your hike was a waste. Next time will surely be a success.”

Oliver waited. He couldn’t have heard that right.

“Wait,” Luna said. “The whole flower got destroyed? I thought you only needed a bit of it!”

“We do,” Grandmother replied. “There is a part of the preparation process where the petals must be burned at the edges. I thought I would save some time and do every petal at once. But I slipped, and the flower was destroyed. I’m so sorry. My hands aren’t what they used to be.”

She squeezed her shawl, her bony fingers locking around the old wool.

“It is getting warmer now. With any luck the snow should thaw a few days after it settles. I’ll send Ben up next time. You shouldn’t have to go twice.”

“Tell him to go up further than us,” Luna said. “Get a bunch. A bouquet of divorce flowers.”

“I will.” She came forward and laid a hand on Luna’s arm, apologetic. “The snow will thaw soon,” she said again. “It’s spring, after all.”

She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Luna’s forehead. Then she leaned up and did the same to Oliver, hand brushing his hair before she trailed out of the room, still clinging to her shawl.

Oliver watched the door close behind her. Something was itching at the back of his head. He couldn’t figure out what it was.

“I guess you should call your fiancé back,” he told Luna.

He risked a glance at her to find her watching the door as well, her eyes narrowed.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head. Started for the door. He followed, trying to identify that strange itch at the back of his head.

“That was weird,” she said finally as they walked down the hall. “Like, she was weird. Right?”

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked.

Luna gave him an expectant look. Before Oliver could ask again, realization jolted through him in a sickening wave: It was suspicion. That was the itch. His and Luna’s, tangling together through the bond.

“She’s not a liar,” Oliver said. “If she says she slipped—”

“I’ve never seen her hands shake,” Luna insisted, folding her arms over the baggy shirt she’d changed into after the hike. “Have you?”

He paused. She was slower these days, but he’d never seen her hands shake either.

“It wouldn’t have gone up in flames all at once,” Luna continued. “There would be some petals left. Enough for us.”

“She wouldn’t—” Oliver cut off, wetting his lips. “Why would she lie? Your wedding is coming up.”

“I don’t know,” Luna said slowly. She toyed with a strand of blond hair. “Maybe she wants to keep me around. Free marketing.”

She flashed him an impish smile. There was an edge to it he didn’t recognize, but Oliver was too awash in a realization he didn’t want to dwell on.

“You think she’s making you stay? She wouldn’t.”

Luna hummed consideringly. She came to a stop in front of Grandmother Musgrove’s door, the farthest door on their side of the inn. Just like back home. The home that had been in the Musgrove pack for six generations, the home that was nothing but ash because Oliver was a gullible idiot.

“We don’t go into her room,” Oliver said. “That’s her private space. It would be disrespectful.”

Luna made a face. “You know what else is disrespectful? Trapping an innocent woman with your grandson.”

She reached for the doorknob.

Oliver pushed her aside, grabbing it himself. If there was going to be someone invading his grandmother’s privacy, it would be better if it was family. Real family, not whatever Luna was.

“If it will make you be quiet,” he said.

Then he opened the door.

For a second, he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Then he heard Luna make a sound, not quite a gasp and not quite a squeak. She was shocked. Even though she’d said it—she’d said it—she didn’t truly expect it.

Grandmother stood beside her desk, frozen. Her hands cupped a golden bowl, a fire burning down inside it. They had come in just in time to watch the last of the white petals shrivel to ash.

Oliver wanted to yell. What came out was a hoarse and horrified whisper. “Grandmother. What are you doing?”

Grandmother winced. She stood in front of the desk as if that would cover up her crime. As if that would hide the smoke still drifting up behind her.

“I can explain,” she started.

Luna laughed. “You can explain? He broke his foot getting that thing! Do you know how hard it is carrying a limping werewolf down a hiking track?”

“You did not carry me,” Oliver said weakly.

“Whatever.” Luna shoved her blond hair back, letting out a noise not unlike a tea kettle whistling. “I can’t— I don’t— What the hell? You’re so nice! I trusted you! Were you the one who put the bond nectar in the office in the first place?”

“That was an accident,” Grandmother said hastily. “Your entire bond was an accident. But I believe it’s a happy one. If you just had more time—”

“What?” Luna blurted. “I’d throw over my fiancé, my whole life, to come and stay here with Furrier by the Dozen? With him? That’s—that’s ridiculous!”

She even laughed, the noise strange and shrill.

Oliver felt it like a knife. The shock was gone. In its place was anger, deep and raging. She’d seen him unconscious after he ran away toward the mountains. She’d seen how he struggled with the bond, with Luna, and she wanted to lock him in for more of it?

“You chained me to a stranger,” he hissed.

Grandmother sighed, resigned. “You chained yourself to a stranger. I only wanted—”

“She could be anyone,” Oliver said, the panic growing in his chest. A dozen images blurred through his head: Standing at Luna’s door listening to her laugh and say he was only good for sex.

Luna looking down at him while he rubbed her feet, telling him he’d make a good alpha.

Luna grinning gleefully as she showed him how many chocolate orders Beth got after her latest round of social media posts.

Luna near tears after they threw her an impromptu party celebrating her successes.

Luna shivering and dripping and scowling at him at the front desk, a rich, spoiled socialite about to launch into a life of nonstop fun and zero responsibility.

“She could be anyone,” Oliver raged. “She’s been living here with us! She could have done anything to us!”

“Um,” Luna said uncertainly. “What? I know I’m a bit of a culture shock, but I’m not that bad.”

She laughed again. Softer than last time. It still sounded strange, the bond pushing at Oliver to feel her roiling emotions.

He locked them out savagely. He didn’t need a bond to know what she was feeling. She’d been clear on the phone call, let alone here in the hall.

“Luna is good for you,” Grandmother pleaded.

He bared his teeth at her for the first time since he was a child. His voice was rising, and he could hear others padding down the hall to see what the fuss was about, Ben muttering something to Sabine about pressure cookers.

“You don’t know that,” he yelled. “She just showed up out of nowhere! We don’t know her. She’s not safe.”

“Not everybody wants to hurt us, Ollie. That woman was a fluke. And she’s in prison now; she can’t hurt us. I don’t understand why it got this big of a reaction from you. You didn’t even know her.”

Grandmother reached to touch his cheek.

He jerked back. It surged out of him like an explosion: “I gave her the key!”

The hall went silent.

Oliver’s ears rang. He stared at the carpet, vision swimming. He didn’t look up. He didn’t dare.

“I did know her,” he heard himself saying, the words finally tumbling out. A torrent after a year of keeping them at bay. “Alexis didn’t break in; I gave her a key. She never came over, but I thought—I thought it was romantic. She said she would wear it as a necklace. Key to your heart, she said.”

A hand touched his chin. He flinched.

Grandmother tilted his head back up. Her gaze wasn’t horrified like he’d thought it would be. It was warm and unbearably tender.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

He laughed bitterly. “She said her family wouldn’t approve. Better to keep it under wraps from everyone.”

“But—” Grandmother wavered. “After—”

“How could I? I endangered the pack. I’m next in line to be alpha, and I almost got us all—” He stopped, the word choking off in his throat.

He could hear Ben saying something, but it was lost in the blood rushing in his ears.

He turned, storming back down the hall. Past his aunts wringing their hands and Sabine and Ben with their arms around each other, past Uncle Roy looking shellshocked.

“Oliver,” Luna called.

The bond inside his chest spasmed. Wanting him to go back.

He kept walking.