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Bo

“Satine?” I whisper the name, not quite believing what I’m seeing.

The Satine I remember was a young girl, though still covered in blue scales with bat-like wings popping out of holes in the back of her altered shirts.

She was not this proud figure, flying freely with a carefree grin on her slim lips.

“I didn’t realize you were the monster the Shellys freed! I’m sorry. I would’ve come to visit you if I’d known.” She lunges forward and wraps me in a strong hug.

“Hells, you look exactly the same.”

“You don’t,” I blurt.

She backs up, laughing a joyful noise I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from the shy monster, hidden away from most of the world because of her appearance.

My webbed digits are nothing compared to what Satine is working with.

She’ll never pass for human.

“That’s what seventeen years does. You grow up.” She tilts her head toward the witch at my side.

“Hi. I’ve seen you around, but we’ve never met. I’m Satine.”

She thrusts out her blue hand, and Mor immediately accepts the shake.

“Morgana Shelly. But you can call me Mor. I run the Mythic Library.”

“I know.” She sighs.

“I’ve been dying to go.”

“Come anytime you want. It’s mythics only.”

That earns Mor another grin, and then Satine reaches out and grabs my arm.

“I’m so glad you’re free. And that you’re back. I missed you when I thought you’d left.”

I blink in surprise.

Satine missed me? Griffith claimed the same, but I still have trouble believing it.

Although that’s probably my own insecurities.

Maybe I put too much weight on how the adults of Folk Haven thought of me.

Seems the younger generation didn’t care so much.

“Glad to be back,” I mumble.

“Come on. Most everyone is here.” Satine guides us toward the steps, walking this time rather than flying, though I’m sure it would be quicker.

As we ascend, Satine tells Mor about the handful of times I babysat so her parents could have a date night.

Satine claims I was a pushover when it came to bedtimes, which …

fair.

Mor’s hand tightens in mine as she chuckles through the stories.

At the top of the steps, a house I remember sits among the trees.

“Satine’s property has high-quality wards,” Owen explains.

“And she was kind enough to offer her home as a meeting place.”

On the front lawn, we come upon a large group, only some of who I know.

Griffy is here, and he strides over to give me a one- armed hug.

A few others smell of wolf.

One tall, broad man with a commanding air carries the scent of the gray wolf Jack and I encountered.

Is that his father?

From the way he stares at the wolf at my side, I’d guess yes.

Levi is here, and he offers a nod and a smile that feels like my abandonment of his hospitality might be forgiven.

He clasps hands with an obviously pregnant woman with curly hair who looks like she could be related to Owen.

Selena—the witch council member who comes by the library regularly—smirks at Mor, her eyes dropping to our clasped hands.

Will our relationship cause problems for her?

Mor doesn’t seem worried about it with the way she keeps a firm hold on me.

The witch shifts to the side, and a familiar siren steps forward.

Georgiana .

Her eyes widen when they meet mine.

But there’s nothing really to say, and I have a warm hand grasped in mine that’s keeping me grounded.

Also, I may have to use my hold to restrain Mor from a tit-punch.

This doesn’t seem like the proper venue for an act of aggression against a Mythic Council member.

“I made a few changes since you were last here,” Satine says conversationally, unaware of the awkward situation potentially unfolding.

“Last here? When was he last here?” A big redheaded brute comes hurrying up to us, his eyes jumping between Satine and me.

“This is Bo. I used to know him when I was younger,” Satine explains to the anxious man.

“An old friend.”

“Ah. Friend. Okay.” He leans close to Satine.

“You still like me more than him, right?”

Satine snorts, then wraps her arms around the redhead’s neck.

“I love you more than anyone else in the world, you silly bear.” Then she kisses him quick and throws me a smile over her shoulder.

“This is Mahon. Bear shifter, my mate.” She lowers her voice into the projected hush of a stage whisper.

“He’s a little bit obsessed with me.”

“Sorry about that. Always good to meet a friend of Satine’s.” Mahon keeps one arm around his mate’s waist and extends the other to me for a handshake.

I return the gesture enthusiastically, chest full of an indescribable amount of joy—knowing the shy girl, who once asked me if her blue scales were ugly, is now happily in love and radiating confidence.

“Good to meet you too, Mahon. Really good. Do you know Mor?” I tug my witch closer.

Mahon pouts. “You never have me deliver you coffee anymore, Mor Shelly!”

My witch rolls her eyes.

“You’d always spill half of it, carrying it on that ridiculous scooter.”

The bear shifter lets out a dramatic gasp.

“Do not blasphemy my beautiful Vespa.”

Mor pretends like he didn’t say anything.

“And Bo is my coffee delivery guy now. He works at the library. My right-hand man.”

I blush, and smile, and overall enjoy this simple moment of making connections.

Then Owen lopes up to the top step of the porch and claps his hands twice to get the gathering’s attention.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming here at my request.” His voice easily projects over the group of mythics.

“I’m sure many of you are wondering what this is all about.” Gone is the silly selkie driving a pontoon boat.

This man commands the audience.

“Do you know what this is about?” I whisper to Mor.

“I have an idea,” she murmurs back.

But speculation isn’t necessary because Owen provides the answer.

“We’re here to form a protection force for Folk Haven.”