Cary Street was a long stretch of road that felt more like a little less than a mile of restaurants and various stores of all types. The sort of place you could go for a few hours and just wander store to store taking in the various sights without ever actually engaging with anything deeper or older about the area. Not exactly the “spirit of Richmond” or a place that even felt connected to the rest of the city in culture, but not without its small joys.

  My dad and I had come here when I was a kid, usually going to Maymont and then walking around Cary Street window shopping until dinner time where we’d stop somewhere cheap on the way home. His once in a couple months way of trying to spend time with me and make me not feel completely forgotten after weeks of waiting in an empty home. Like only having one friend he trusted me to spend time with, long nights wondering if he’d come back, and regularly being woken up by people I barely knew stitching his wounds was only a minor complaint patched over by such time.

  Misha had driven around the city for a bit before finally coming here, going nowhere in particular and down a half-hundred side streets obviously putting up with the traffic to give me time to calm down. Not sure what the point of it was, it at least kept me out of the house and gave me time to clear my head and think about what to do now I’d had that sort of reaction in front of him.

  My mind cleared, it was now torn between a vaguely numb fear and an objective knowledge that fear was probably unwarranted. Alpha was dead, I knew that, we’d made sure of it, and he couldn’t have even come back as a ghost so long as tradition held true. Someone was trying to punish me for the crime and for some reason only me and me alone, but it couldn’t have been Alpha.

  It couldn’t have been Alpha.

  Maybe the killer knew I was the one who had made the final call, but I didn’t know how he’d fucking know that. Was he targeting the others too? Was that what 1:4 was supposed to mean, four of us against Alpha? Was the killer four people targetting me, trying to make it a fucking game? It was a lot that I needed to think about, and more than one idea that might have been a lead came to mind.

  Hell, it probably would have been easy to try and make a call to the number texting me all the time, but Purists could be more short-tempered than was worth a risk. If the count down was to an attempted murder or some event, calling now and confronting them was just as likely to get most Purists to feel the need to take direct action. It also probably wasn’t the smartest of my choices at the moment, waiting for Hunter to get me potential information feeling a little better even if it meant I was currently aimlessly trying to wander about hoping something explaining it fell into my lap.

  Now that I knew my prayers were still answered I could have probably tried getting a vision from the Creeping Shadows, though something like that would need a ritual and larger offering. I’d need a proper shrine to him, a lot of my blood or something big like a human or a good sized deer, maybe even a proper moon phase.

  Fuck, I didn’t even know when the next new moon was, let alone if it’d be any time soon. As important as it was to know, I tended to just wait until the night before when Misha reminded me of a full moon or new moon to worry about that sort of thing.

  “Hey, when’s the next new moon?” I asked, furrowing my brow as I tried to think it over. I couldn’t even remember whether the last forced change was for either phase, the more I thought about it.

  “Not for a bit,” Misha admitted, clicking his tongue at the thought. “Full moon’s closer than that. I think the full moon’s…Friday, if I had to guess? Friday sounds about right. Why, trying to make plans?”

  “Something like that,” I admitted, sighing at the thought as Misha led me into some red brick store he’d asked me to stop by with him. “So what’s this place anyway?”

  Why are you bringing me here was the bigger question, but maybe he was trying to act like what happened back at the store was water under the bridge.

  “Kinda just a nerd store,” Misha brushed off, gesturing in general around us, “Samuel asked me to pick up a box of cards for some game he plays. He’s one of the only werewolves from the old pack that still talks to me, over curious as he gets about how training and work’s going. I figured grab those while we’re here, before I go and forget it later on. You can look around if you want, there’s a lot of board games and stuff if that’s your thing. Clearance is in the back.”

  I nodded, and watched as Misha immediately went to the counter of the store while I spent a moment standing there confused on what to actually do with myself.

  It wasn’t completely busy, but there were plenty of half-ones walking around looking at boxes and displays throughout. As small as the store seemed to be, the smell of them all together made the wolf want to come out and start eating, and it would have been oh so easy.

  I resisted the urge and, scrunching my face at the joint smell, making my way towards the back of the shop. At the very least that seemed to be less crowded and it looked more open than the shelves and displays of the front.

  Still a bit crowded, with large fold out tables set up and people sitting around playing card and board games, there were at least marginally less people there. A wall that was full of board games marked on clearance as Misha said, a wall of paints and small boxes with tiny white figurines in them, and a few shelves of various books. The shelf caught my eye first, the books looking larger than I was used to, though I didn’t particularly recognize any of the titles there.

  I was just leaving it behind and about to turn to look at the figurines when I nearly walked straight into Knives.

  “Hey…Mary, thought that was you,” the werewolf laughed, brushing the hair from their face. “I didn't know you were into this sort of shit.”

  “I’m not,” I said, laughing awkwardly as I took a step back and looked them over. For a moment I thought Knives was alone, before I saw Andrew as well on the other side of the shop, looking through the figurines and with a small pile next to him. After a few seconds, I shook my head as I corrected myself, “well, I mean, I don’t know what this is truth told. Misha just needed some cards, and I was looking around, you know?”

  “Ah, yeah, that makes sense,” Knives admitted, smiling as they looked past me and started to scan the shelf. “Never heard of role playing games?”

  I thought about it for a long moment, frowning as I tried to think before hesitantly admitting, “I don’t think so. Is it like a kinda board game or card game?”

  “Sort of,” the werewolf said, picking a book off as they seemed to try thinking of how to phrase it. “You like, make a character and then you get to roleplay them out and go on stories and stuff. One of the ones our pack likes had a new book come out so I was just picking it up while we were out.”

  “Sounds fun,” I admitted, nodding as I tried to think it over, “you guys play?”

  “Yeah, pretty regularly,” Knives chirped, gesturing over to Andrew, “me, Andrew, Tara, and Basil. We try to do it every Friday, but last week was Tara’s birthday and this week we have the Full Moon. We’re thinking about Sunday though, next Sunday not today, you know?”

  “Yes,” I said, still trying to process everything that had been said in that short time. “Sorry, I don’t know a ton about this, not sure what I’m supposed to say.”

  “It’s fine, I’m rambling,” Knives admitted, laughing softly in a way that might have been from embarrassment, “Andrew can explain it better.”

  “Heard my name,” Andrew said, walking over with a smirk, wearing a pair of jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt, “how’s it going, Cannibal?”

  I resisted the urge to punch the man on instinct, and watched as Knives smiled and told him, “I was trying to explain to Mary role playing games.”

  “Well, the fastest way to learn is play,” the man said, pointing toward me, “already inviting the cannibal to breakfast, maybe we should try to get her in on the games.”

  “I’d hate to be a bother,” I said hesitantly, even as Knives shrugged at the thought and turned back to me.

  “I’m good with that if you want to try it out, maybe we can get a proper conversation out of you for once,” they told me, smiling at me in a way I didn’t like, “we’re starting a new game this week anyway, it’d be a perfect time to jump in and learn the ropes. Wild West and magic stuff, it’ll be fun.”

  I nodded, frowning for a moment as I tried to think it over and wonder if it was something I would have liked. It wasn’t exactly something that I knew a ton about, or was exactly sure what it involved, but I was being invited to something.

  “I guess I could,” I said hesitantly, frowning as I looked to my feet, “so, what do you play like, half-ones and stuff?”

  Knives looked ready to answer the question, before a look of confusion came over their face. They hesitated for a long moment, seeming unsure if they even wanted to ask, “half-ones?”

  “Yeah, half-ones,” I said, frowning a moment before realizing they probably didn’t know that term. “You know, humans?”

  “Ah,” Knives said, scrunching up their face at the thought, “that…okay yeah that sounds weird to hear.”

  “It has a bad energy to it,” Andrew agreed, stressing the words with a frown, “you know you could just say like, humans?”

  “Okay, yeah, alright,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes a moment more from annoyance than not as I corrected myself, “so you play as humans?”

  Knives let out a small hiss, shaking their head as they muttered, “honestly that sounded worse, I’m not gonna lie.”

  “Had a little bit of… stress on it,” Andrew admitted with a small laugh, “hey, look, how about you just stop by my room sometime, or stop me in the living room or kitchen, sometime before Sunday? We can sit down, make you a character, help you get the basics of the system down. I mean, I’d love to help you out.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to be a bother,” I repeated, rubbing the back of my neck, “I mean that sounds nice. I just-”

  “Andrew, Knives,” Misha said, walking toward us with an obviously forced smile, “I didn’t expect you two to be here.”

  “We were just picking some stuff up,” Knives said, shrugging as they held their book under one arm. “Surprised to see you and Mary here, I thought you two were investigating an incident for The Lady.”

  “Oh, Mary helped us wrap that up right quick, wonderful girl she is,” Misha chuckled, giving me a coy smile that made my chest feel light. “We were just taking a break before heading home, you know? I thought I might take her up to The Corner, have a few drinks.”

  “Is she old enough to go to The Corner?” Knives asked, raising their eyebrow as they seemed to judge Misha for the idea. “I know Vergil has something worked out with her, but The Corner’s not exactly supernatural as far as I’m aware. Or, at least it’s not supernatural or owned by The Lady.”

  “Her ID says she’s twenty-one, and even if they can tell it’s fake they’ll let her in. It’s a two week difference,” Misha brushed off, seeming to not care about the concern at all. “Do you guys have any other concerns, or is that all?”

  Knives and Andrew both looked like they were about to say something, before sighing in frustration as I walked over beside Misha. Knives seemed to contemplate something, and after a few seconds they hesitantly told us, “have fun then I guess.”

  “We’ll be fine,” I said, laughing at how genuinely insincere the werewolf managed to actually sound, “maybe you should come join us. I mean, you were talking about getting to know each other more.”

  “I don’t think so,” Knives said with a tone I couldn’t quite describe under the words, “I got in a fight there a few years ago, the owner's still kinda mad at me. I put…someone, through a table, you know? Not sure if I'm welcome back or not.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense,” I admitted, watching Andrew walk over to gather the boxes of figures he’d set aside. I considered briefly asking him to join at least, before deciding against it at the last moment. I was sure Knives was liking the company more than I would have, and I wasn't sure how Misha would feel about another person with us for the day, especially after earlier.

  We said our brief goodbyes, and Misha led me out of the store and down the street. We walked in silence for a time, Misha looking bothered about something the whole way, and I resisted the urge to ask him if it was about me or knives. I knew better than to, and had no interest in putting myself up for disappointment.

  We were just stopping outside of a small building tucked into a corner when my phone rang, and I pulled it out with a frown.

  Unknown Number, which could have meant a lot of things, but I had an idea it meant answers either way…well, spam aside, but I very rarely got that.

  “Mind if I have a minute alone?” I asked, holding the phone briefly up, “thinking it might be business.”

  “Go ahead, I’ll get something ordered,” Misha said, laughing at the question, “you hungry, beautiful? They have good food here, surprisingly.”

  “Sure, I could go for something to eat, you know what I like,” I said, frowning a moment even as I answered the phone and held it to my ear, “I’m here.”

  Misha gave me a brief nod and went outside, and I heard an awkward tapping noise over the speakers as Hunter asked, “so I just talk normally? I don’t need to hold it up to my head?”

  “No, it’s on speaker,” his mother and one of my former mentor’s, Chaser, explained in a hushed whisper, “you just can talk like normal, she’ll hear you.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “You sure?” Hunter asked, making me giggle slightly at his reaction. Fucking hell, I’d gone through something similar when I’d gotten my own phone almost a year ago but it was still cute seeing it from someone else.

  “I can hear you,” I said, leaning against the nearby wall as I looked up to the sky, “how’d you get this number?”

  “I still have some contacts among the traitor wolves and their allies,” Chaser explained, sounding almost proud of the fact, “I told The Lady I wanted to talk to you again. She agreed not to trace or bug the call, though I’m not sure what all else. I think she sees it as a sort of challenge to you.”

  “Sure you can trust her?” I asked, scanning the streets around me knowing I was likely being watched. She was predictable like that, and the wrong bugged call could land a lot of people into hot water.

  “The Lady is a woman of her word,” Chaser reassured, sounding motherly as always, “I’m sure she’ll do something, but that isn’t the problem.”

  “Alright,” I said, frowning a long moment before I hesitantly asked the two, “what did you find out?”

  “A couple possible leads,” Hunter admitted, sounding a little proud of himself as well, “Martin’s under Covenant protection for now, rotating guard of trusted friends, but depending on how things go that might not be enough. I have some information though about that New York pack I was telling you about.”

  “The one you thought sounded suspicious?”

  “Yeah, turns out some other Purists thought they were a bit strange as well,” Hunter told me, the sound of him tapping on the table ringing out in my ear. “It looks like they rented out hideouts all over the area, but more than that some priest guy Chaser knew said he had spies on these people. They also seemingly have been going in and out of already owned homes, leaving the rented places for storage and taking over places they’re staying. We know where one is near you, hidden out in a suburb pretty near your Covenant as far as my mom makes it sound.”

  “Now that’s something I didn’t expect,” I said, desperately trying to think of how to word it where someone overhearing didn’t get the wrong idea.

  “Yeah, if you want the two of us can take a look tonight,” Hunter offered, making me frown as I wondered if it was worth the risk. The two of us coming together would be bad news if I was being surveilled, and might make people think I was defecting, but we also knew how to work and fight together better than I did with anyone else. “Chaser told me where the Covenant is. This house is a good twenty minute run there at most, we’re talking through some woods and over a few fences. You could probably slip out no issue, I can probably find somewhere to hide out nearby.”

  “Might be worth checking,” I agreed, knowing it’d be a big risk, especially with Hunter, but it seemed almost worth it. If I left my phone, pretended I was going for a walk, I could at most take an hour and no one would be the wiser. With Hunter we’d be efficient, especially if I wore my bracelet and we worked fast.

  Perhaps I could drag out how long it was before I told anyone else about what had happened, if I ever needed to.

  “I’ll see you tonight then, my blood stained huntress,” Hunter told me, making me resist the urge to declare my own love as I hung up the call.

  Fuck, I needed to get myself together, I was going to get myself killed at this rate if I didn’t keep my fucking hormones under control. The last thing I needed was to be falling back into Hunter’s arms and The Lady killing me for going to the Purists.

  Fuck sake, I knew how I thought when I was around him, I might as well have been in the Purists again when our minds were joined.

  It didn’t change how much a part of me still loved him.

  I tried to ignore the thoughts, turning back into the small bar Misha had brought me to. Unremarkable on the outside, the inside seemed almost forgettable with dark lights and a series of mostly empty tables. It smelled horrible, a faint and far-from-fresh hint of tobacco, grease and meats, half-ones, supernaturals, and alcohol of various types. Below all that was the scent of fresh dew and spring leaves, telling me the fey were at least partly behind the business and surprising me slightly after Knives had seemed so confident they weren’t supernatural.

  Misha sat in one of the booths, drinking from a tall glass full of beer as he talked to a bearded man in black pants and a plain-white shirt, and I tried joining them as someone tapped my shoulder.

  “Hey, lady,” a muscular looking half-one woman in a uniform similar to the other worker said, rolling her eyes at me. I resisted the wolf’s urge to rip her throat out for challenging me, and she obviously continued, “I need to see your ID. You’re looking a little young for me to take you on faith.”

  “Ah, let her in,” the man Misha was talking to called out, laughing at some joke, “she’s one of Misha’s girls.”

  “Surprised to see a girl coming in with him, that’s a fun change of pace,” the woman muttered, gesturing me in.

  I frowned slightly at the comment, trying to figure out what she meant and started toward Misha. The man he was with helped me sit across from my mentor in the booth, and I finally got a good feel of his scent. Not half-one, but fey, the source of the dew and spring leaves smell I’d detected. Someone I hoped I could trust as he rested a hand on my shoulder laughing as he declared, “Robin Goodfellow, at your service m’lady. Always lovely to meet the lady of the occasion Misha sees fit to show me.”

  “She’s more than that,” Misha told the man, smiling at me over his drink, “girl gives me a fucking run for my money; she’s the reason I came in with most my body still bandaged a year ago. First she nearly killed me, now she’s showing me up at my own job; if she’s a better tipper than me I’ve nothing left to brag about to you.”

  “Oh, now you’re hurting my heart,” Robin cooed softly, gripping his chest dramatically and leaning back almost perpendicular to the ground before suddenly moving to extend a hand to me, “I will take that to mean I should learn this lovely lady’s name, I know I would love to say it on many sorts of occasions.”

  I rolled my eyes, the wolf surprisingly putting up with him as violence didn’t feel worth the time, and took his hand. We shook for a brief moment, and I considered lying about my name or dodging the question before, almost without realizing, I answered, “Mary Jameson.”

  “Oh, Jameson,” Robin said, pulling away like I’d shocked him with dramatic jazz hands, his smile not breaking, “I used to know a Jameson that came in here all the time. Tall fellow, body more scars than meat, had a bird tattooed on his hand and a chunk missing from his ear. You know him?”

  “No,” I lied, having a suspicion the man knew the real answer somehow. “I think I’d remember someone like that.”

  “My mistake then, for the better you’re not in those crowds anyway,” the man admitted, shaking my hand with both of his as though the first handshake wasn’t enough, “so, what can I help you to? My chef was just heating up the grill for Misha’s burger, how do you like yours? You look like the sort who enjoys a good black and blue burger.”

  “Raw,” I answered without thinking, before quickly realizing my mistake. “I mean, you know, rare. Rare as y’all can do. Black and blue’s fine, I like blue cheese…actually just, whatever you can get for me, owners pick.”

  “Hey, I know the wolf situation, love, I ain’t judging a wild thing like you,” Robin chuckled, patting me on the back a couple times, “make you a deal, I’ll tell my chef to just brown the outside a little, leave it as raw on the inside as we can manage. You just don’t go showing off that fact to the rest of the customers for me, if you’re not minding? I already had to turn one health inspector into farm equipment for finding the vampire stock in the basement…I’m joking, just don’t show off the raw meat, love?”

  “I can promise that,” I said, smiling at the consideration, and I was afraid to say the steadily growing on me humor, as the man left our table and disappeared through a door behind the bar.

  We sat there in silence for a moment, Misha sipping his drink and I sitting there with my hands folded, unsure of what to do. Robin came back, carrying a large glass of beer he sat in front of me, and I hesitantly sipped the drink to not seem ungrateful.

  Beer had never really been my thing, as much as I had no trouble drinking it under the right circumstances. Usually that just meant wanting to relax a little or because I was getting overstimulated and needed to dull my senses.

  Any other time, especially for drinks that weren’t as strong as others, I just wasn’t a fan of how strong the taste and smell was to my senses for no real benefit.

  Misha didn’t make me sit with the drink long at least, shaking his head as he finally told me, “fey are in charge here, they’re the one group The Lady doesn’t risk a turf war with and Robin’s a friend. We can talk here and there's no chance anyone wanting to talk to The Lady is listening. Maybe a few brownies in the walls, but they don’t care about anything not having to do with housekeeping.”

  The words caught me off guard, even as I looked around the room in confusion like there’d be some further proof of what he said and slowly asked, “is that why you wanted to bring me here?”

  “Stop by the store so if we’re being watched it doesn’t look like we beelined here,” Misha agreed, sipping his drink as a dull smile crossed his lips, “my mentor had me in these seats as a teenager whenever I needed to talk about things The Lady couldn’t know. Feelings, problems going on, school shit, falling in love with…well, who’s not important. The point is I have that shirt we found in my backpack, and a portable fire pit in my closet at home I use for emergency evidence disposal, but I need to know what’s going on here first.”

  “I can’t tell you,” I said on instinct, fear gripping my chest as I tried to explain, “I…it’s from when I was in the Purists, I-”

  “Mary,” Misha said, stopping as he seemed to think for a long moment, “let’s make a trade. You tell me what you did, and I’ll tell you something I did that I think is just as bad or worse, and trust me I’ll have something to say. You work for someone like The Lady long enough, you do enough to make some of you…make some of those Purists you knew blush.”

  It was a stupid fucking trade, there was no crime worse than what I’d done, it was unforgivable. All the same…

  He was all I had, and with a shaking breath I told him, “the shirt belonged to an old packmate. He…he hurt me, and we killed him.”

  Misha nodded, sipping his drink with a look I couldn’t properly describe as the words settled on the air. Some of the disgust and horror I expected from hearing someone confess such a crime, but below that something else until he confessed himself, “I killed my mentor. He was the best man I ever knew so no excuse on my part.”

  The words struck me, the crime one almost on par with the slaughter of a packmate and one he hadn’t even half justified. Not sure if he was lying, I asked, “why?”

  He didn’t answer at first, almost seeming like he’d been slapped as he stared down into his drink and with some finality declared, “I won’t ask more details if you don’t either. What I’m hearing though is someone is trying to get revenge, and you think it’s related to these murders. Short of the world’s worst cosmic coincidence, I’m inclined to agree.”

  “Probably,” I admitted, sighing as I leaned forward on the table, “no idea what the 1:4 is supposed to mean, I’ve been trying to work that out. I mean the guy barely seems to know-” I stopped myself, the reason suddenly striking me like a rock, “the guy has no fucking idea what he’s talking about.”

  “How so?”

  “The Wolf Laws are ancient werewolf laws, put in place by the oldest grandson of the first wolves, and there’s three sets of laws: War, Community, Command,” I started, the lists flooding back to me like the tide. So thoroughly worked into my memory, it felt like it would have been impossible to forget them if I’d tried, “the fourth law of the first decree, the Laws of War, is ‘The pack is your family, let any werewolf who kills their pack be treated as one who killed their brother’s father,’ but you’d never annotate that. It’s always written as The First Fourth if you’re being dramatic, but he’s writing it like bible quotes. “

  “So he’s not a Purist?” Misha asked, seeming more confused than when we first started.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted hesitantly, squirming in my place, “it’s…it could mean he just doesn’t listen, or was badly taught, I’ll have to figure that out.”

  Not much, but it brought a strange sense of excitement to it, the prospect of knowing more than I had before.

  I was still riding that most mild of high when Robin came back out. Carrying a large tray, he set a plate with a burger in front of each of us and a large tray of fries in the center of the table. I smiled as I smelled the blood still trapped within the one in front of me, and Misha hesitantly pulled his apart to check the inside.

  “So you like raw meat?” he asked, frowning as he watched me take my first bite.

  “Just got used to it,” I admitted, reveling in the taste of it all the same. “We really only ate stuff cooked if someone else made it. Otherwise the options were: go hunting, raid a grocery store or house, come back with what you could. Sometimes you’d throw deer or rabbit or fish on a fire, but I never saw the purpose like some of the others did.”

  “Sounds horrible. I’m glad to know you’re out of that,” Misha muttered before taking a bite of his own burger. He seemed more focused on the food than the talk of my life, but I wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t scared of me like the others were when I talked like this, he wasn’t overly surprised or disgusted, he was just aware it existed.

  “It was nicer than you think at times,” I hesitantly told him all the same, smiling down to the table and leaning my cheek on my hand as I thought about it. The fingers of my free hand awkwardly thumbed my locket, and I saw Misha look at it in confusion as I continued, “I mean, once you strip it of the murder and well, um, other stuff? It was…nice, we lived free, we did what we wanted, we never felt the pressures of the world.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” the man muttered, frowning as he seemed to focus on my locket, “Have you always worn that?”

  A sting of pain shot through me, and I frowned as I shook my head and unclipped the locket from around my neck. Hesitating for a long moment, I slid it across the table to him, and Misha took it up almost gingerly, thumbing the release as he clicked it open to reveal the picture within. The man looked at it for a moment, tilting his head with an expression I couldn’t describe, and he asked, “what is this?”

  I sat there for a long moment, not sure what I was supposed to say or do to the reaction before I started formulating something in my head. Misha seemed nicer than most people I knew, he’d been pretty fucking supportive of me this whole time, knew I’d killed a packmate and he’d barely flinched. Maybe I could just get away with telling him the truth, and letting it settle there.

  “His name’s Hunter,” I said hesitantly, my breath unsteady with crashing waves of worry, “we were together when I was in the Purists. He gave that to me as a birthday gift last year, a couple months before you and I had our fight. Apparently one of his…I want to say oldest sister? Some half-one, she’s a jewelry smith, or whatever the term is but she made it for him. We…we were really close, I got my hands on it again recently and it’s a comfort for me, okay? I…I think if he left the Purists we’d be good together.”

  Misha’s expression was unreadable, seeming unsure what to say about it for a long moment before telling me, “you can do so much better,” as he closed it. “We all have our past shames though I wouldn’t worry about it. The trick is moving on past them.”

  We ended up eating the meals in relative silence, only occasionally sharing a brief comment for the other. Eventually we finished eating and drank a few more glasses to finish off before we left the bar. Misha took up his bag from the store, and we stepped outside as I kept my hands held awkwardly behind my back.

  The two of us walked through the busy streets for a little bit longer, and eventually stopped as Misha blurted out, “Have I ever told you you look beautiful.”

  “What?” I asked, not sure what had brought this on after the day and conversation we’d just had.

  “You look beautiful,” Misha repeated, looking almost conflicted about it as he walked over to me. His hand reached up, resting on my chin, and I briefly resisted the wolf’s urge to bite it even as his thumb caressed my lower lip. All I could bring myself to do was stand there, looking at him in surprise as he elaborated, “I…I know I say it a lot, but what I mean is do you understand I mean it when I say it?”

  I nodded, unsure of a proper response, and he leaned closer into me. His hand creeped around to the back of my neck, and he pulled me into a kiss as his other hand rested on my hip. I froze for a moment, before closing my eyes and kissing him back as I slowly gripped his shoulders. It felt unreal, I was being held, I was being wanted, I was being needed by someone, and that alone set aside any conflict from the fact it was Misha doing it. It was probably inevitable to happen anyway, and I could have done so much worse than him couldn’t I have?

  The kiss lasted a few seconds, and I relished every moment before Misha pulled away with a sudden jerk, looking almost angry as he shook his head and muttered, “What the fucks wrong with me?”

  “No, no it’s fine,” I said, shaking my head as I looked down at him, sure my eyes were dinner plates, “I just didn't expect it, but this was…it was nice.”

  “No, I shouldn’t have,” Misha repeated, shaking his head even as his hand never left my cheek, “this sort of thing should have been your choice, if it ever happened, not something I did. I’m supposed to be your mentor, not acting like some jealous fucking child because I opened a locket and saw…”

  Misha trailed off and I nodded hesitantly until he finally pulled his hands away after several more seconds. We stood there for a long time, neither of us saying anything, and eventually we turned to go back to the truck without a word to confirm what the other meant to do.

  My mind continued the slow rotation of a microwave, trying to make heads or tails of what had happened, and I pushed those worries aside as best I could. I didn’t need Misha taking over my thoughts now, I needed to focus until tomorrow at least.

  I needed to be at my best to help Hunter tonight, if we were going to figure out who was threatening me. Then I could worry about everything else and see how this went.