SPENCER
After breakfast, when Finn offered to go for a walk, Mom said she had a hard time falling asleep last night, and that it would be better for her to stay home and take a nap.
“First, let me show you the rest of the house.”
Finn led me to the niche next to the fireplace, where we came upon double doors with stained glass.
“This is my study,” Finn said, opening the doors. “And also a library.”
This room looked completely opposite to the rest of the house.
The middle of the room was a big open space with a leather couch, an armchair, and a small wooden table in between them covered with several closed and open books.
On one side of the room, next to the window, stood an antique mahogany desk. I stopped my eyes on the vibrant colors of the stained-glass lamp shade sitting on top of a bronze base that looked like a curved branch.
On the other side, from where the couch sat, a few stairs led to the floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves. They covered two walls: the one opposite the desk, and the other opposite the widows.
“Do you like it?” Finn asked carefully.
“Are you kidding? I love this place.”
“I know the whole house is modern. But I always felt differently about studies and libraries. I like them the old fashion way.”
“Me too. Modern libraries don’t have that mysterious, compelling atmosphere, and books don’t smell the same.”
I approached the small table to check out one of the open books, but Finn took me by my shoulders and turned me around.
“No.” He slowly shook his head. “Not now.”
Through the glass door in between the windows, we came out to a big backyard.
At one end of the house was a barn surrounded by trees. Its doors were ajar and through the gap, I saw neatly stacked logs.
On the other was a cozy patio with couches and chairs next to a round, brick fire pit.
“I never thanked you for the roses,” I said, eyeing the beautiful bushes on the other side of the patio. “They’re gorgeous. And I know I’ve already thanked you for the breakfast, but I have to say, that sandwich was delicious.”
“That’s the famous Adam’s sandwich from a movie called—”
“Spanglish?” I gaped at him in surprise. “You watched Spanglish?” I laughed.
“Yep.” He nodded. “A couple of years ago, I was dating this girl . . . she was an ordinary girl. I mean, she wasn’t like us, supernatural. She liked watching comedies, and she made me watch a few with her. I remembered her saying then that to win a girl’s heart, all I need is to learn how to make Adam’s sandwich.”
I turned my eyes away from Finn. To win a girl’s heart? I had no idea how to react to this, and I could feel the laughter building up inside me. I let it out.
“Sorry,” I squeezed the word through the laughter.
“So, are you surprised yet?” he said, and when I looked at him, I saw that he was soundlessly laughing too. “If not, I can try again tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, your mission is accomplished. Tomorrow’s breakfast is on me. I will show you how professionally I can pour milk over cereal.”
“Deal,” he nodded, his eyes still smiling.
“Finn, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
We started walking toward the woods.
“This thing about wolves. The thing about mates . . . is it true?”
He heaved a breath. “Yes.”
“You’ve been a wolf for a while, but if I understand it right, you don’t have a mate, do you?”
“No, I don’t. To find a mate, I have to be among wolves, and I’m not.”
“And if you were? How does it work? From what I’ve read, if you meet your mate . . . well, it’s like you don’t have a choice. I mean, what if one of them likes someone else?”
“There’s always a choice. It’s the wolf who chooses the mate, and most of the time, the wolf’s and the human’s choices match. But if not, the human part can always reject his mate.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Okay, maybe I made it sound too easy. The thing is, if you’re a part of a pack, then there are rules and obligations. Also, the draw to your mate is too strong, and you have to really hate your mate or have really strong feelings for someone else to break the connection. The rejected one wouldn’t be only heartbroken but will most definitely have to leave the pack and join a different one for a chance to find a new mate.”
“This makes one thing pretty clear. We’re not in any pack, so our chance to mate with someone is . . . well, zero percent. Which is perfect. I don’t want to be mated to someone. I want to make my own choice, based on my own true feelings.”
Finn kept walking, his look fixed on the grass, but in the corner of my eye, I caught delight on his face.
We were walking through the woods when the burble of water reached my ear. I turned my head looking for the source.
“There’s a river down there. Let me show you.”
For a moment, we walked in silence. Listening to it and inhaling the smell of bark and slightly moist forest air, I forgot all my questions. I ran my eyes up and down a large, old tree. Thick roots held it to the ground, and it stood tall, spreading its magnificent green canopy above us.
The river was about twenty-five feet wide and not too deep. I stepped closer and looked into the clear water.
“When we drove here, I saw a private property sign. Does this all belong to you?”
“Yeah. Everything within two miles around. You probably know that when we shift, we lose our clothes. My mom liked to run, and my father chose this place for her, so she could shift whenever she wished and run freely wherever she wanted.”
Moving along the river, we reached a small wooden bridge. We crossed it and came out to a big, green meadow.
Finn drew closer and stopped behind me.
“It’s so beautiful here.” I felt his torso brush against my back.
I wanted to look at him, to see his face. My heart pounding, I turned around, and at the same second, his strong hand sat tight on my back and pulled me to his chest. I have felt a strong hand on me before, but it was nothing like this. His hold on me wasn’t meant to offend or hurt me, it was meant to make me feel wanted and safe at the same time.
Our eyes met. Then his look slid down to my lips. He bowed his head and kissed me. Oh yes, I needed him to hold me tight. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he lifted me a few inches from the ground, ringing his other arm around my waist.
A few moments later, when our lips parted, he put me down, and the way his look moved over my face felt like he was still kissing me.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head and turned his eyes up at the sky. “I shouldn’t . . . You’re not angry with me, are you?”
“Do I look angry?” I said quietly. “I didn’t push you away, did I?” I ran both my hands up his chest and cupped them around his neck. “When you left, I missed you.” The look of his gray eyes in mine weakened my body all over again. “And the moment I arrived, the moment I saw you . . . I wanted . . .” I shrugged, “. . . this. I mean . . . yes, this.”
“I missed you too,” he whispered.
He reached for his back pocket and pulled out a small, round wooden box.
“This was my grandmother’s.” He opened the lid and took out a silver bracelet. “She was a witch. It’s supposed to contain some magical powers. I want you to have it.”
He held it out for me, but I hesitated.
“Finn, it’s gorgeous. But I can’t. It’s a family heirloom.”
“Please. I think it might help you during your transition.”
“Really?” I bit my lower lip, then I nodded and took it out of his still-waiting hand. It was about half an inch wide, and there were symbols embossed on its surface from one end to the other.
“Let me help you.” He pushed the empty box back into his back pocket and put the bracelet around my wrist. “Happy birthday, Spencer.”
I stepped closer and kissed him on the lips.
“Thank you.” The blissful look on his face made me smile. “We should go back. I want to look pretty tonight, and it might take some extra time.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.
“You’re alwa—”
“If you say I’m always pretty, I’ll kick you in the . . . well, it will hurt.”
We both laughed.
* * *
I walked into my room, closed the door, and leaned against it. It felt good. Every second with him felt so good.
I opened the closet and pulled out the new dress and the shoes I bought in Charlotte. Mom wanted me to wear them on my birthday.
I held it to my body and looked into the mirror. It was a chocolate-brown lace fitted dress with a deep V neckline. The lace of the short sleeves was finer and transparent and the same fine, patterned stripe of lacing ran around my waist, like a see-through belt.
I put the dress on the bed, grabbed my make-up bag and my hair curler from the drawer, and headed to the bathroom.
Let’s make me pretty.
* * *
FINN
She looked happy.
I was pacing up and down the barn between the stacks of logs. I couldn’t be in the house right now. I was too upset, and I needed to let the steam out.
I knew she was drawn to me. I could feel it, and I could see it every time I looked her in the eyes. At the same time, I thought it was too early to make a move, that it might scare her away, make her doubt me, make her question my intention to help her.
But I didn’t want to wait anymore. With every passing hour, I got more worried, and I was scared. What if those next two days were all the time we got, and then it would be too late?
Fuck.
I grabbed a log and threw it at the wall.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
WHY?
She doesn’t deserve this. To be killed by some stupid curse.
I growled. You can’t fall to pieces like that.
I ran my fingers through my hair, then dropped my hands and took a deep breath. I will find a way. I’ll figure this out.
I threw off my clothes, shifted, and ran into the woods.
* * *
The half-hour run took away most of the tension, and I washed off the rest with a cold shower. From the closet, I pulled out a fine, light-gray shirt, put it on, and looked through the pants on the hangers.
“I think this will do,” I muttered under my breath, pulling out black pants. “Black goes with everything.”
I put them on and looked in the mirror. I wanted to look good for her.
Then I went to the bathroom to fix my hair. When I was ready, I picked up the ring I took off before the shower that I left on the sink shelf. My father’s ring. I wiped the small drops of water from the black, rectangular stone and the symbols carved on its platinum base and put it on.