Page 36 of Curses and Casualties (Hunters Hollow #3)

Ryan

I can’t rest. The sun climbs toward its peak, marking time I simultaneously want to speed up and slow down.

Georgia sits beside me under the pine tree, her fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on her thigh.

She’s been doing that for the past hour—little anxious movements that tell me she’s as wound up as I am.

“I can hear you thinking,” she mutters without opening her eyes. “You need to stop.”

“You first.”

She cracks one eye open to glare at me. “I’m thinking perfectly reasonable thoughts about mineral compositions and tectonic plates.”

“Liar.”

“Fine. I’m thinking about how in a few hours we’re either going to be the most powerful couple in shifter history or very, very dead.” She sits up, brushing pine needles from her hair. “Your turn.”

“I’m thinking about how you have pine needles in your hair.”

She swats at me half-heartedly. “Ass.”

“Such language.” I catch her hand, threading our fingers together. “What would your mother say?”

“My mother would be having a full breakdown about her daughter running off with werewolves.” She squeezes my hand. “After she finished grilling you about your career prospects and whether you have a 401k.”

“I have excellent career prospects. The dental plan’s a little iffy, but Alpha of the first Soul Bond led pack in centuries has to look good on a resume.”

“If we survive long enough to need resumes.” The words slip out before she can stop them. Her face immediately scrunches up. “Sorry. I’m trying not to be morbid, but?—”

“I know.” I pull her against my side. “It’s hard not to think about.”

Jules appears from the tree line with Ethan, both looking somewhat relaxed despite the circumstances and the fact they’re currently on patrol duty.

“How are the perimeters holding?” I ask.

“Like a charm,” Jules says as she chomps away at her sweet-smelling gum. “Literally. The pack’s been circling for hours, but between the fae glamours and our ward work, they just keep walking in circles. It’s probably driving them absolutely insane.”

Ethan grins. “We can hear them howling with frustration every few minutes. They know we’re here, but they can’t pinpoint our location.”

“How long will the protections hold?” Georgia asks.

“Until we’re ready to drop them,” Jules assures her. “Fae magic is ridiculously hard to break, and you’ve got some pretty powerfully kickass witches in here too. We’re well hidden until it’s time.”

Ethan and Jules move on, and Georgia and I continue to sit in comfortable silence, watching the camp’s activity.

Scarlett hasn’t moved from Fenris’s side.

The witches play cards, betting with heartstone shards and glowing vials of potion.

Lucien is regaling anyone who’ll listen with a story about something that happened in 1823.

“What are your thoughts on Scarlett and Magnus—I mean, Fenris.” Georgia shifts closer, her tone uncertain. “Actually, I mean both, don’t I?”

I let out a low hum, watching Scarlett hunched small over the battered wolf.

“It’s complicated, that’s for sure. Our journey toward completing our Soul Bond has been difficult enough.

I can’t imagine going through all this when one half of the bond wants nothing to do with it.

” I pause. “They deserve better than what we’ve had.

But I think the only way it works for them is if one of them learns to want the other, not just need.

Fenris wants her so bad he’d die for it, but Magnus… ”

“Magnus is a coward,” Georgia says, surprising me with the edge in her voice. “He sabotaged his own happiness.”

“Not everyone is as brave as you.” I kiss her hair, breathing in the scent of her skin. “I barely survived a decade without a mate. Magnus? He never had anyone show him what it could be.”

“Scarlett will show him,” she says, certainty sharpening her words. “She’s stubborn enough for three people.”

“Let’s hope it’s enough.” I squeeze her hand, then rest my chin on the crown of her head. “What do you want to do until moonrise?”

She tilts her face up, and a laugh bubbles in her throat. “Eat something with actual flavor. Maybe watch Erik and Lucien arm-wrestle for entertainment value.”

“It’s a date.” I stand, offering her my hand to pull her up with me.

“Chosen pair.”

We both jump. One of the fae stands before us, having appeared without a sound. I’ll never get used to how they move. It’s like reality bends around them rather than them moving through it.

“Jesus,” Georgia gasps, hand over her heart. “Bells. You people need bells.”

The fae tilts their head, considering. “Bells would diminish our effectiveness.”

“That’s kind of the point,” she mutters.

“Come,” the fae says, already turning away. “Your purification awaits.”

“Our what now?” I ask, but they’re already gliding away, expecting us to follow.

We exchange glances and scramble after them. They lead us to a part of the camp I swear was empty forest an hour ago. Now an elegant tent stands between two pines, midnight blue fabric that shimmers with its own light.

“When the hell did this get here?” Georgia whispers.

“Time moves differently in fae construction,” our guide says without turning around. “It has always been here. It has never been here. Both are true.”

“My brain hurts,” Georgia complains.

“That is common when perceiving fae work with your primitive gray matter.”

They pull back the tent flap, revealing an interior that definitely shouldn’t fit in the space available. Two copper tubs sit on either side of a gossamer curtain, steam rising from both. The air smells of pine and honey and something I can’t identify.

“Two baths,” the fae announces. “Blessed waters. Ceremonial robes. Everything required for the ritual preparation.”

Amara appears at their shoulder, having mastered her own version of sneaky movement. “Separate baths,” she emphasizes, giving us both a pointed look. “Your energy must be preserved for tonight. No... funny business.”

Georgia’s cheeks flush pink. “We weren’t going to?—”

“Of course you were. I would,” Amara says smoothly. “The water has been blessed with herbs for clarity, strength, and...” she pauses, “stamina. For the ritual, of course.”

“Of course,” I echo, trying not to think about what kind of stamina we’ll need.

“No orgasms of any kind,” the silver-haired witch adds bluntly. “Save it for the ceremony. The magic works better if you’re... anticipating.”

Now I’m blushing too. Georgia looks like she wants the ground to swallow her.

After more warnings and a few more embarrassing hints about ‘building energy,’ we’re finally left alone. The interior of the tent is warm and softly lit by floating orbs of light.

“Well,” Georgia says, voice artificially bright. “This isn’t awkward at all.”

“Could be worse,” I offer, already pulling off my shirt. “They could have stayed to watch.”

“Don’t give them ideas.” I hear the rustle of fabric as she undresses on her side. “God, this water smells amazing. Like... pine and honey and mint, I think...”

“Ah. That’s what that is.” I sink into my own bath with a groan of pleasure. The heat immediately seeps into my muscles. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Watch your mouth, young man,” she teases, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “What would your mother say?”

“My mother would have had opinions about all of this,” I admit, letting my head fall back against the tub’s edge. “Her youngest son, a werewolf. Completing a Soul Bond the Elders tried to hide. She was always one for following rules.”

“She passed when you were quite young?” Georgia’s voice is gentle.

“Yeah. She died when Owen and I were in college. Cancer. Nothing magical about it, just... life.” I close my eyes, remembering. “She would have liked you, though. Once she got over the supernaturalness of it all.”

“A geology nerd who trips over her own feet and glows like a nightlight whenever I get turned on by her son? Sure, every mother’s dream.”

“Don’t do that,” I say quietly.

“Do what?”

“Put yourself down. You’re extraordinary, Georgia. And not because of Luna or the bond. You were extraordinary before any of this.”

Silence falls, broken only by the gentle splash of water. I can see her silhouette through the curtain, leaning back in her tub, and the need to be closer is suddenly overwhelming.

“This feels surreal,” she says. “Like we’re getting ready for our wedding while the world burns around us.”

“Maybe we are,” I say. “Getting married, I mean. In our own weird, supernatural way.”

“Is that what this is?” Her voice is softer now, more vulnerable. “A wedding?”

“The most important one in centuries, if Amara’s right.” I close my eyes, letting the warmth seep into my bones. “What would you have wanted? If we were normal people?”

“Something small,” she says after a moment. “Maybe on a beach somewhere. One of our brothers officiating because they’d absolutely insist. Scarlett as my maid of honor, probably threatening to murder you if you hurt me.”

I laugh despite everything. “She’d definitely do that.”

“What about you?”

“Honestly? I’d want whatever made you happy.” I lean back against the copper rim. “Though I always imagined it happening in the mountains. Somewhere wild.”

“Well, you’re getting your wish. It doesn’t get much wilder than completing a Soul Bond while being hunted by your entire pack and then some.”

A distant, frustrated howl echoes through the forest—the pack still searching futilely outside our magical barriers.

“They really can’t find us?” Georgia asks.

“Not a chance. Jules wasn’t kidding about the protections.”

The need to be near her suddenly overwhelms everything else. Rules, instructions, magical preparations—none of it matters as much as holding my mate.

“Fuck it,” I mutter, standing.

“Ryan, what?—”

I’m already stepping around the curtain. “No funny business,” I promise, holding up my hands in surrender. “I just... I need to be near you.”