Page 65

"I swear to the goddess -if that overgrown mutt shows up at my door with one more bag of takeout, I'm going to scream."

Seren threw herself onto the couch with the dramatics of someone seconds away from spontaneous combustion. Her hair was in a wild bun, curls escaping and her eyes blazed with barely contained fury.

Ana didn't even look up from where she was painting her nails a sultry metallic purple. "Let me guess—he brought those pumpkin-spice biscuits you like?"

Seren glared. "Yes. With handwritten notes. "

She curled up on the couch after appropriating one of Ana's oversized hoodies. Across from her, Ryn sat cross-legged on the floor, methodically sharpening a curved dagger while Ana painted her toenails a scandalous scarlet and hummed along to a thumping shifter-pop playlist.

Outside, the city hummed. Inside, it was the same strange limbo it had been for days.

"He was in my bed again," Seren muttered.

Ana didn't look up. "In human form or wolf?"

"Wolf."

Ryn didn't even blink. "Your bed still intact?"

"Shockingly, yes. No clue how. It wobbled like a dying duck all night."

Ana snorted. "I swear if I wake up to the sound of thudding and moaning, and it turns out to be a massive wolf cuddling his ex in post-rejection depression—"

Seren groaned into her hands.

"It's not funny. He won't go. I push—he stays. I tell him no—he wags his tail."

Ryn's voice was deadpan. "Maybe you should try peeing on the carpet. Establish dominance."

Ana cackled. "He would probably think it was foreplay."

Seren threw a cushion at her.

"Why is he at the Hollow Moon all the time? Wiping tables. Replacing the taps in the bathroom. Rearranging the bar shelves by colour, for god's sake!"

Ryn shrugged. "He's useful. The sink doesn't leak anymore."

"And every time a male so much as breathes in my direction, Hagan appears like a grim reaper," Seren hissed.

"True, that was the third guy he scared off today. And he does fill out a T-shirt," Ana sighed dreamily.

"Focus, Ana!"

Seren glared at her.

There was a knock at the door.

"No. Nope. Hide me," Seren hissed, scrambling off the couch like the floor was lava. "It's him. I know it's him."

Ana raised a brow. "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. I can smell the male arrogance from here. "

Ana padded to the door.

"I swear if you open that—"

"Sweetie, you can't avoid your destiny by hiding behind our couch."

"I'm not hiding behind—!"

But she was.

Ana opened the door with a flourish.

Hagan stood there with his usual grim set to his mouth and arms full of food—actual steaming food in compostable boxes.

Hagan said, gaze already scanning the room. "Brought lunch."

"Of course you did," Ana said. "You're like a determined golden retriever. And who is this? "

Seren's face emerged from behind the couch. Her eyes widened and she bolted over the couch and wrapped her arms around Veyr in a tight hug. "Veyr! You're here!"

The stoic warrior blinked, then hugged her back gently. "Little Lunara. You're thinner. Have you been eating?"

"I—uh—sort of?"

Hagan inserted himself between them, a wall of muscle and possessive male energy. "That's close enough. You want to keep your limbs, Veyr?"

Ana and Ryn exchanged looks.

"This one's gonna end in blood," Ryn muttered.

"I hope it's a shirtless brawl," Ana added, under her breath.

"Guys," Seren sighed. "Behave."

She turned to Ana. "This is Veyr. And these are my friends- Ana and Ryn."

Ana, for once, was uncharacteristically quiet. She blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Blinked again.

Ryn leaned closer and muttered to Seren, "She short-circuited. I think she just met her new sexual awakening."

Ana rallied after a few seconds, trying—and failing—to look unaffected. She straightened her blouse and offered a bright smile. "Hi. You're... tall."

Veyr tilted his head slightly, expression flat. "I get that a lot."

His gaze swept over her once—curious, clinical-like he'd stumbled upon an oddly shaped sculpture and couldn't decide whether to praise or prod it. Ana blinked, taken aback.

Before the silence could grow too awkward, Ryn stepped forward, arms crossed. "You're the one who uses curved blades. Silver-dipped steel?"

Veyr's brow lifted with mild surprise. "Yes."

They stared at each other for a beat.

"Take a look at this blade I stole from...," Ryn said, already turning toward the kitchen.

Without another word, they disappeared down the hall, talking about blade composition like they'd just discovered a shared religion.

Ana stared after them, crestfallen. "Seriously?"

Seren tried not to laugh. "They're probably just geeking out. It's not flirting."

Ana turned to her, arms crossed. "Are you sure? Because he looked at me like I was an unpaid bill and her like a shiny new dagger."

Seren shrugged. "I think it's more of a bromance. You know... if Ryn were a man."

Ana threw herself onto the couch with a dramatic huff. "Ugh. Rejected. By Mr. Personality."

Across the room, Veyr and Ryn's voices could be heard debating the merits of Damascus steel versus dark-forged obsidian alloys. At one point, Ryn made a dry comment about only trusting blades that had seen blood. Veyr grunted approval.

Ana scowled. "That's the most foreplay he's capable of, isn't it?"

Before Seren could answer, a loud bang shook the front door.

"Stinking bears," Ryn muttered from the kitchen.

The smell of warm bread and roasted vegetables filled the apartment as Hagan laid out the dishes on the table and laid the plates out as Veyr watched him with a bemused look on his face. Threk emerged from the hallway, sniffing dramatically.

"I smell food," he declared, his voice already muffled around the edge of a bite he'd stolen straight from a dish.

Hagan didn't look up. He was focused on Seren. Always on Seren.

He moved around her like a quiet gravity, handing her a napkin just as she reached for one, refilling her water without asking. When she sat, he pulled out the chair for her. When she pushed her food to the edge of her plate, he nudged it back toward the centre, wordless but firm.

Veyr and Ryn were already seated, deep in a conversation about the tensile strength of folded steel and the advantages of silver-dipped blades in close-quarters combat.

"Most smiths waste edge alignment when tempering silver," Ryn muttered between bites.

"Then they don't know how to forge properly," Veyr replied, his tone casual.

Ana sat across from them, quiet for once. Her amber eyes flicked to Veyr and back again, watching him with a strange, unreadable expression. She poked at her food. Normally, she'd be dominating the room with teasing and innuendo. Tonight, she was quiet.

Not once did Veyr look her way.

Seren, noticing the shift, felt a pang of sympathy. She reached for another helping, but Hagan beat her to it—serving her again, making sure she had enough. He seemed to instinctively know what she had been thinking.

He didn't speak. Just watched. His eyes moved with her, as though memorizing every blink, every lift of her hand. She tried to ignore how it made her skin warm.

Seren found herself almost smiling at him. And then a memory surfaced—sharp and uninvited.

Just a few weeks after their handfasting, she'd spent the better part of a day preparing a meal.

Her hands had ached from kneading dough, her shoulders sore from stirring, roasting, and seasoning.

She'd even used herbs his mother had once said he liked.

There'd been a flicker of pride in her chest as she'd set the table.

And he never showed.

She waited. Hours passed.

Later, she heard that he'd been seen at the training fields—then at the longhouse.

And finally, eating with Lia.

He hadn't even bothered to let her know.

The memory hit like a slap, sucking the air from her lungs.

Her mood dropped like a stone.

And both Hagan and Threk noticed.

Ignoring the last bite, Seren stood. "I'll do the dishes."

Threk followed. "I'll help."

Hagan started to rise, but Threk caught his gaze and shook his head, slow and deliberate.

Not this time.

Hagan stilled, lowering himself back down, muscles taut.

In the kitchen, the faucet hissed. Threk handed her the soap. Their movements fell into a rhythm—comfortable, practised.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

Seren sighed. "I don't know."

Threk dried a bowl. "He watches you like a man at the edge of a cliff."

She didn't look up.

"I've seen how wolves court. He's doing it the slow way. He brings food and offers quiet. Leaves notes."

"He's everywhere."

"He's not forcing you."

"No." She bit her lip. "

"I know he's been everywhere," Threk said, eyes soft. "I know it's overwhelming. But... my instincts? They say he's sincere. Really in it, this time."

Seren blinked at him. "You don't think he's just trying to mark territory?"

"I'd smell that a mile away," he said simply. "This isn't dominance. It's... devotion."

She swallowed hard.

"You deserve to be courted like the force of nature you are," Threk said gently. "If I even get a whiff of bad vibes from him, I'll remind him that a bear's hug can be permanent."

Seren laughed, blinking fast. "Thanks, Threk."

"It may not seem like it, but I'm on your side, Seren," he said, nudging her shoulder. "Always."

She glanced back into the kitchen, where Veyr and Ryn were now debating throwing stars.