Page 12

The bar is louder than I expected, even for a Saturday night. Laughter and the clatter of glasses blend into an old country song playing in the background while the scent of beer and fried food wafts through the air. It’s not the kind of place I’d normally bring Jaslyn. Not because she couldn’t handle it, but because I wasn’t sure she’d even want to bother. She’s not exactly the bar-scene type.

Her gaze sweeps over the crowd, taking in everything with a focus that makes it clear she’s already sized up the exits and the potential threats. That’s Jaslyn for you. Always prepared for the worst.

“You good?” I ask, leaning closer to make sure she hears me over the noise.

She quirks a brow at me, and her lips twitch like she’s holding back a smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason.” I straighten up, watching her as she looks around again. The glow of the neon sign above the bar throws a faint green light across her face, and for a second, I forget why we’re here.

“Are you going to get me a drink or just stand there gawking?” she asks, snapping me out of it.

“Right. What’s your poison?”

“Whiskey. Neat.”

I nod and weave through the crowd to the bar, throwing a glance over my shoulder to make sure she hasn’t disappeared. She hasn’t, but she’s already drawn a few curious stares from some of the locals. Most of them are harmless enough, but one guy—tall, dark-haired, and clearly too interested—makes his way toward her.

Fantastic.

By the time I get back with the drinks, the guy has parked himself right in front of her, leaning in like he’s got some big secret to share. Jaslyn’s expression is somewhere between bored and annoyed, but she’s letting him talk. That tiny hint of irritation in her eyes, though, is all I need to see.

“Here you go,” I say, sliding her drink into her hand as I step between them just enough to make a point.

“Thanks,” she responds, flashing me a quick smile before turning back to the guy. “What were you saying?”

I grit my teeth and take a sip of my beer, letting the burn settle my nerves.

“Just that it’s nice to see a new face around here,” the guy offers, grinning like he’s auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. “I’m Mason, by the way. From Starfire Hollow.”

“I’m Jaslyn.”

“Jaslyn,” he repeats, like he’s trying the name on for size. “So you’re the luna of Red Arrow now? Lucky pack.”

I snort into my beer before I can stop myself, earning a sharp look from Jaslyn. Mason doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You’ve got a good alpha, though,” Mason continues, glancing at me for the first time. “Tough. Fair. I’ve heard a lot of good things.”

“Thanks,” I say dryly. “Appreciate the endorsement.”

Mason grins, clearly missing the sarcasm. “Just calling it like I see it.” He turns back to Jaslyn, and his voice drops a little, like he’s trying to sound smooth. “But if you ever feel like exploring other options, Starfire Hollow’s not too far. I could show you around.”

I stiffen, but before I can say anything, Jaslyn beats me to it.

“Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.”

Mason chuckles, either oblivious or too cocky to care. “Well, the offer’s open.”

“Noted,” she replies, taking a sip of her whiskey. Her eyes flit to me, and there’s a hint of amusement there, like she’s enjoying watching me squirm.

When Mason finally wanders off, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “You’ve got a way with people,” I say.

“Jealous, Gray?”

“Not in the slightest,” I lie, finishing my drink.

The rest of the night plays out much the same way. Jaslyn moves through the room with a kind of effortless confidence that draws people to her like moths to a flame. She chats with wolves from Starfire Hollow, East Hills, and even a few of the older Red Arrow members. Every single one of them seems captivated by her. I tell myself it’s a good thing. She’s winning them over, proving that she’s not just some outsider forced into our pack.

But then there are the looks. The way some of the guys linger a little too long, their gazes dipping just a fraction too far. I clench my jaw every time, fighting the urge to step in and remind them who she is. Who she belongs to.

Except she doesn’t belong to me. Not really. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

“You’re quiet tonight,” Theo mentions as he sidles up next to me, nursing a beer. “Something on your mind?”

“Not really,” I say dismissively.

He follows my gaze to Jaslyn, who’s laughing at something one of the East Hills wolves said. “Ah. Got it.”

“There’s nothing to get,” I snap, but he just grins.

“Sure, there isn’t,” he says.

I glare at him, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Go bother someone else, Theo.”

“Gladly,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder before wandering off.

I watch as Jaslyn finishes her conversation and starts making her way back to me. Her cheeks are flushed, either from the whiskey or the heat of the room, and there’s a lightness in her step that I haven’t seen before. She looks happy. Relaxed.

“Enjoying yourself?” I ask when she stops in front of me.

“More than I thought I would,” she admits. “This place isn’t half bad.”

“High praise,” I comment with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. Instead, she leans against the bar and glances up at me. “Take me home, Gray.”

The words catch me off-guard, and for a moment, I can’t read her tone. She doesn’t seem upset or tired. Just… ready. For what, I’m not sure.

I nod, setting my glass down. “Let’s go.”

She walks beside me in silence, and for once, I don’t feel the need to fill it. Whatever this night was, whatever it meant, I know one thing for sure: Jaslyn Kismet is an enchanting wolf.

And that might just be my undoing.

The ride back to the packhouse is different than any other ride we’ve taken together. Jaslyn leans against the passenger window. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are slightly parted as she watches the trees blur by. She’s been babbling off and on since we left the bar, and her usual sharp edges have been dulled by the whiskey.

“Did you know,” she begins, her words just a little too loud, “that the first spell I ever cast went completely wrong? Like, spectacularly wrong.”

I glance at her, fighting back a smirk. “Can’t say I did.”

She twists in her seat to face me, and her hands flop into her lap with the kind of dramatic flair only a tipsy person can manage. “It was supposed to be this little charm for good luck. Harmless, right? Instead, I turned my aunt’s kitchen knives into boomerangs.”

“Boomerangs?” I repeat, trying and failing to hide my amusement.

“Yup. Straight-up whirling death traps.” She giggles, then quickly sobers, and her eyes go wide with mock seriousness. “I almost decapitated my uncle.”

Her words tug at a memory I hadn’t thought about in years. Jaslyn was raised by her aunt and uncle after her mother died giving birth to her, a fact that always struck me as both tragic and complicated. I used to wonder how they felt about raising a child so different from themselves. Were they proud of her magic, or did they see it as a burden they never asked for? The boomerang knives probably hadn’t helped much with that.

Still, imagining a teenage Jaslyn wreaking havoc with enchanted cutlery almost makes me laugh out loud. “I’m guessing that didn’t win you any points with them?” I remark.

“Not exactly. But it definitely made them invest in plastic knives for a while.”

“You’re full of surprises, Kismet.”

“Damn right I am.” She leans back with a content sigh. “But you have to admit, I’ve gotten better. You saw me out there with the wards. That was impressive, right?”

“It was,” I admit, and it’s not just flattery. She’s come a long way since the girl who used to set things on fire by accident.

She hums, clearly satisfied with my answer. Then she mutters something I don’t quite catch, and her voice trails off as her head lolls against the window.

When we finally pull up to the packhouse, I glance over to find her half-asleep, her lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks. She’s never looked so unguarded, so utterly human. It does something strange to my chest, and I have to force myself to move.

“Come on, lightweight,” I tease, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She mumbles something incoherent as I open her door and crouch down. “What was that?”

“I said,” she slurs, “I’m not a lightweight. I’m compact. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.” I slip an arm under her knees and another behind her back, lifting her easily. She wraps her arms around my neck. Her face presses into my shoulder, warm and soft and entirely too close.

“You’re so strong,” she whispers, and her breath tickles my neck. “Is that an alpha thing or a Gray thing?”

“Definitely a Gray thing,” I reply, hoping to keep the mood light because if I think too hard about how good she feels in my arms, I might lose my mind.

Her head tilts back, and she gives me a lopsided smile. “I think you’re lying. But it’s okay. I forgive you.”

“Generous of you.”

The packhouse is quiet when we enter. Most of the other wolves are already asleep. I carry her up the stairs and into my room, nudging the door open with my foot. She doesn’t protest as I set her down on the edge of the bed, but when I move to step back, her grip tightens around my neck.

“Don’t go,” she murmurs, her voice small and pleading.

“Jaslyn—”

“Stay.” Her green eyes meet mine, and I nearly buckle under their weight. “Just… stay.”

My throat tightens, and I know I should walk away, should tell her she doesn’t mean it, not really. But the warmth of her hands against my skin makes it impossible to move.

“Okay,” I finally say. “But you need to lie down.”

She lets me guide her back onto the bed, but her fingers still clutch at my shirt like I might vanish if she lets go. When I try to pull away again, she tugs me down with surprising strength. “You too.”

“Jaslyn—”

“Please.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to break through my resolve.

With a resigned sigh, I kick off my boots and settle onto the bed beside her, careful to keep a respectable distance. But she’s not having it. She shifts closer, curling her body into mine, and I swear I forget how to breathe.

“Thank you,” she tells me as she rests her head against my shoulder. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I say. “I owe you.”

She doesn’t respond, and her breathing evens out like she’s already drifting off. But then she shifts again, and her hand brushes against my chest, and I’m suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact between us.

“Jaslyn…”

She looks up at me with her eyes half-lidded and impossibly green. “Gray.”

Before I can think better of it, I lean down, and her lips meet mine. The kiss is tentative at first, soft and searching, but it deepens in the blink of an eye. The heat sparks between us, raging through me like wildfire, and her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer.

Her heartbeat pounds against my chest, and my body responds instinctively. I pull her closer, running my hands over her curves, tracing every line and contour. She tastes like whiskey, and her scent fills my senses until all I can think about is her, only her.

Her hips roll against mine, and a groan rumbles in my chest. My control slips, and I grab her, pushing her onto her back. She looks up at me with her pupils blown wide and her cheeks cherry-pink, and the sight is nearly enough to break me.

I want her. I need her. And dammit, she wants this, too.

But if I’m going to have Jaslyn, I’m going to do it right.

It takes everything in me to pull back, to put space between us before this goes too far. “Jaslyn,” I breathe, my voice ragged. “We can’t.”

Her brows knit together, confusion flickering across her face. “Why not?”

“You’re…” I trail off, searching for the right words. “You’ve had a lot to drink. I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret this.”

“I wouldn’t,” she insists, and her voice is firm despite the haze in her eyes.

“You don’t know that.” I cup her cheek and brush my thumb over her bottom lip. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”

“You’re wrong,” she whispers. Her lips part to continue, but I shake my head.

“Go to sleep, Jaslyn.”

She hesitates, and for a second, I think she might press the issue. But then she sinks back against the pillows, and her eyes close. A few minutes later, her breathing deepens, and her body relaxes as sleep takes her.

I stay there, watching her, listening to the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat. I tell myself this was the right decision, that she would have hated herself—and me—in the morning. But as I lay beside her, with her scent all around me, I know it’s a lie.

The truth is, I’m afraid.

Afraid that if we take this step, I’ll never want to let her go. And when the time comes and she realizes her mistake, the pain will be too much for either of us to bear.

I’ve never been good at letting go. And Jaslyn Kismet will ruin me if I’m not careful.