Page 31

“So, how old are you now?” Scarlett asked cautiously, as if she feared the answer—or his reaction.

“Thirty.” Emboldened, Ezra reached up and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, guiding her hand down his neck and around his throat. He’d always wondered what her fingers would feel like once they formed his very own hand necklace. “Tell me about your family. Have you always been sheltered?”

With her fingers over his throat, her thumb brushed his carotid.

The artery picked up pace, thumping beneath her fingertip.

“Pack children stay with the pack until they can keep our secret. The only difference in me was when I didn’t enrol into public schools like the others.

I hated it, but I was raised to be a role model.

Packs work because of the hierarchy. You see it in rogue groups time and time again—they fall apart because they dare question their leadership. ”

“So, you followed him for the good of the pack.”

“Yes. And I also know you probably think it’s stupid.”

“I do. Then again, I’ve done things that I don’t personally agree with for Vince and Mateo.”

“Such as?”

“Dinner.”

“Because they are your pack, your people.”

“I guess, but don’t tell them I said that.”

“Ah yes, because you hate them so deeply that you only live here to make their life as miserable as possible,” she countered sarcastically.

“Fucking hate their guts,” Ezra mumbled.

She leaned down, and all Ezra could do was to swallow the moan that threatened his lips when Scarlett’s met his forehead. “Of course you do.”

“My mother used to say my life will be overshadowed by dark clouds. I used to believe her, but now I know that she was seeing you.”

Scarlett graced him with a smile so tender that it melted his heart, mending something within him that he didn’t even have words to describe.

Further still, she continued forward, sealing her mouth over his.

He grunted in surprise, hints of mango and chocolate teasing his lips.

He lifted a hand, spearing his fingers through her hair.

Far too soon, she pulled back, her cheeks rosy and her chest heaving heavily.

“You’re my storm, Scarlett,” Ezra panted.

“As long as you are my shelter.”

No one had ever asked him to be their shelter—not that he even knew how. But deep down he knew he would be anything for her. Even if he was clueless, he had some help.

“I’ll be anything you need.”

Once Vince and Mateo entered the room, they asked Scarlett to join them at the table, where they presented their findings for their next hunt.

“Since this is our first lycan and probably our riskiest hunt to date, we wanted you to be part of our decision making going forward,” Mateo explained.

“I’m not sure I’ll be of much help.”

“It’s less about you helping us hunt and more about your presence. First, we never know how long these things are going to take. We would be gone for a while, and we all feel uncomfortable leaving you for so long.”

“You could come with us,” Vince continued. “But wouldn’t be involved in the physical part of the hunt. As far as we understand, lycans can control werewolves’ minds. We believe that extends to you too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“We only found that out recently as well.”

“So, what do you three need from me?”

“Consent,” Ezra bluntly stated.

Their eyes met with an amused grin from Scarlett. “You don’t seem like someone who would ask for consent beforehand, nor would you ask for forgiveness afterwards.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not the only one here.”

Mateo rolled his eyes, redirecting her attention. “We would like to go on the hunt soon, but there is no rush since no one else knows about them or their location. I believe what we are asking is how you would feel about leaving for a while.”

Scarlett’s eyes drifted down to the map, her fingers tracing over the paper. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been alone.”

“If you chose to come with us, we would keep you as close as we can, but there might be times where we’re gone for days at a time.”

“Possibly even a week or two,” Vince added. “We are not one hundred percent sure where the lycan hideout is, but it’s somewhere deep in the Black Ridge Mountains.”

“What happens when you find them?”

“We kill them.”

“What Ezra is trying to say is that we will return to you.” Mateo reached for her hand, which she gratefully accepted.

“As we said, this is nothing that needs to be decided now. No one else is looking for them. We’d still like to get a more precise location for them before we proceed, but we want you to be part of the process. ”

“Thank you.” With that she let her fingers run over the map one last time before rising from the table.

Ezra watched as she walked up the stairs in her fluffy shoes, his stomach still swirling.

True to his nature, he was up and running after her before she’d reached the last step.

Mateo chuckled somewhere behind him, but the sound faded into nothing as Ezra wrapped his arms around Scarlett from behind.

“My room?” he whispered into her ear.

She tensed briefly, but then nodded and let him lead the way. He guided her to his bed, but could feel her hesitation in the way she stiffened in his arms.

“I want to hold you,” Ezra explained. “Vince held you last night, right?”

“Yes…”

“I would like to do that too.”

“Were you upset last night?”

Ezra reluctantly released her, falling onto the bed with his arms spread. “I was.”

Scarlett finally accepted his invitation, crawling onto the mattress and laying her head on his chest. Once her arm draped over his stomach and her leg twisted around his, Ezra settled. “Will you always be upset when I spend time with the others?”

“Probably.”

“Will you resent me for it?”

He had to think about it. Yes, he had been upset, but would he go so far as to hold it against her? “I didn’t resent you—I was jealous. Then this morning, it was all forgotten.”

“Will you ever become so jealous that you’ll hurt them?”

Ezra would never admit it out loud, but that question had fear spiking in his chest—because he couldn’t say no. He had done some messed up shit already. He’d promised not to hurt her, and he’d almost broken that promise in mere minutes.

“I saw what you did to those hunters,” she whispered, a slight quiver to her voice. “I didn’t want to think about it because I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.” Ezra combed through her hair. “I punished them because they hurt you. I would never do that to Vince and Mateo. We fight and sure, blood spills from time to time, but I’ve never once thought about hurting them on purpose.”

“I trust you.”

Those words sent a shiver down his spine.

Mostly pride that she trusted him, laced with a hint of fear that he’d just screw it up.

Her fingers feathered over his stomach, down to the hem of his t-shirt, pushing the cotton up to reveal the tattoos hiding underneath.

Scarlett rose to her knees, lifting his shirt further up his torso.

The pride he’d felt before grew with the need to give her everything .

He lifted up slightly, reaching behind himself and tugging the fabric over his head.

Scarlett traced over every line and ridge of the skull and roses on his stomach, leaving tiny fireworks in her wake.

She moved over his ribs and up to his shoulders, feeling over the raven’s wings inked there.

He desperately tried to keep still, barely managing to suppress a groan when she reached the raven’s body over his throat.

Without another word, she moved down his chest again, pausing over the scars he’d accumulated over the years.

Some were runes, others from cuts—both accidental and self-inflicted.

His gaze landed on her mouth. Scarlett worried her lip, her chest moving slightly faster than usual.

Craving the feeling of her skin, he slipped his fingers under her shirt, flattening his palm against the small of her back.

When she didn’t pull away, he let out a sigh of relief. Maybe she was truly enjoying it.

“Is carving the runes essential for your spells to work?”

“Yes.” He lifted his hand, turning it palm side up. Carved into the skin was the spell for her charm. “I need the blood to let the magic free. Offering it to the spell with the runes needed gives it more power. That one was for your charm.”

Scarlett brought that hand closer to her face, tracing over the rune with her thumb. The other delicately clasped his necklace. “Do you regret any of your spells?”

“No.”

“Would you be able to change them if you did?”

“Spells and runes are not carved in stone, so to speak. Though you can’t change the runes themselves, the meaning of the spell may change.

” When she looked at him rather lost, he explained, “Say you were to carve a rune for success, but that’s subjective.

One might find success in money while someone else might take that as a big, happy family. ”

“So, someone who struggles with health might find survival successful.”

“Exactly. Health is also a very tricky one. If you lost an arm or leg would you still consider yourself healthy? Or would you only see a person as healthy if their body was intact?”

“If your vision or intent for the spell changes, is that enough to make a difference in the outcome?”

“No one really knows. Some might even say loose spells like health alone don’t change any outcome, while others believe it gives them some sense of protection. Magic is no specific science, especially nowadays.”

“But it does work, because how else would your charm find mine.”

“That’s right. Magic has changed a lot from before the witch hunts. It’s harder to see, and even harder to prove its capabilities. My ancestors used to be able to send an object across the room with a single look, or stop a heart with the flick of a finger.”