Double Trouble, Triple Heat

Chapter 9

Two pink lines don't lie.

I'd stared at that test for an hour last night, waiting for it to change. It didn't. Now I'm forcing myself into town because if I stay in this cabin one more minute, I'll lose my mind completely.

The general store is my first stop. Bread. Milk. Prenatal vitamins I grab without looking at them, shoving them under a bag of apples like contraband.

The atmosphere has shifted overnight. People who smiled at me last week now stare with guarded expressions. An old man tips his hat as I pass, the gesture too slow, too deliberate. A mother pulls her child closer when I walk by, like I'm carrying something contagious.

"Lena's daughter," someone whispers behind a shelf of canned goods.

"Back after all these years," another voice adds. "The Blackwood boys have been circling her like—"

The whisper cuts off when they notice me listening.

I grab my items and flee to the register, where the cashier's hands tremble giving me change. She won't meet my eyes. No one will.

The diner seems safer. Public. Normal. I slide into a booth and order coffee, wrapping my hands around the mug like a lifeline. My reflection in the window looks pale, haunted.

A woman slips uninvited into the seat across from me.

She's beautiful in a sharp, dangerous way—dark hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes the color of winter ice. Those eyes sweep over me with undisguised contempt.

"So you're the human everyone's talking about." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm Luna. I thought we should meet, since you've been keeping my alpha so occupied."

"I haven't been keeping anyone."

"Haven't you?" She leans forward, voice dropping to honey-poison. "I've known Dominic since we were children. I know what he looks like when he wants something. And the way he looks at you..."

She laughs, sharp enough to cut glass.

"He's never looked at anyone like that. Not even me, when we were promised to each other."

Promised. The word lands like a stone in my stomach. "I didn't know—"

"Of course you didn't. You don't know anything." Luna's nails tap against the table, blood-red. "You don't know our traditions, don't know what happens to outsiders who stumble into things they can't understand. You waltz into town, and suddenly our alpha is neglecting his duties, running patrols past your cabin like a lovesick pup."

"That's not my fault."

"Isn't it?" Her ice-blue eyes bore into mine. "You could leave. You should leave. Before you get hurt, or hurt someone else."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a warning." She stands, smoothing her jacket. "You don't belong here, human. And when you break the rules—because you will—people will suffer. Remember I told you so."

She walks out without looking back, leaving me shaking in the booth.

I throw money on the table and leave my coffee untouched.

The drive home through winding mountain roads offers no peace. My skin prickles with awareness—that strange golden thread in my chest pulling, warming. I grip the steering wheel tighter and try to focus on the road.

Then I see it in my rearview mirror.

A wolf. Silver-grey and impossibly fast, running alongside my car like sixty miles per hour is nothing. Caspian. I know it without knowing how, the same way I know my own heartbeat.

He keeps pace for a mile, and even in wolf form, there's something playful about the way he moves—leaping over fallen logs, weaving between trees with supernatural grace. Showing off. Showing me what he is. What he can do.

At one point, he turns his head and I swear those silver eyes meet mine through the glass. My heart pounds for reasons that have nothing to do with fear. There's an invitation in his gaze, a question. Come run with me.

Then he vanishes into the trees, and I feel the loss like a physical ache—a rubber band snapping back against my chest. The golden thread dims, leaving me cold and alone on an empty road.

I didn't imagine it. I know I didn't.

At the cabin, fresh firewood is stacked on the porch. Neat, even rows. No note. Just the scent of pine and something else—something that makes me want to bury my face in the wood and breathe deep.

Dominic's scent. Dark cedar and smoke, the smell that clings to him like a second skin.

He was here. While I was in town being warned away by his ex-promised-mate, he was here. Taking care of me.

The thought makes heat curl low in my belly even as my mind screams that this is insane.

I carry the groceries inside and spend the rest of the day pretending I'm not waiting for something. Pretending I don't check the window every time I hear a sound. Pretending my hand doesn't drift to my stomach every few minutes, pressing against the impossible reality growing there.

Night falls.

I stand at the window as wolves howl across the valley—one voice rising, then another, then another. A conversation in a language I don't speak but somehow know concerns me.

The golden thread pulses with every howl, tugging me toward... them. Both of them. I press my palm flat against the cold glass, trying to ground myself, but I can feel them out there. Dominic's presence like a banked fire, steady and fierce. Caspian's like quicksilver, bright and restless.

They're calling to me. Or maybe the bond is. I don't know anymore where they end and it begins.

What am I supposed to do?

I'm pregnant with a werewolf's baby. My father apparently hunted wolves for years—killed them. My mother was one of them, a fact he hid my entire life. And now I'm standing in her cabin, while two men who turn into monsters circle me like I'm prey—or something precious.

The thread tugs again, harder. Come to us, it seems to whisper. Let us take care of you. Let us worship you the way you deserve.

My body aches to answer. To go to them, let them hold me, let them make promises I desperately want to believe.

No.

I turn from the window and grab a bag from the closet. Start throwing in clothes—whatever's closest, it doesn't matter. Toothbrush. Phone charger. The prenatal vitamins I bought this morning, because apparently even while planning my escape, I'm thinking about the baby.

The baby.

God, what am I going to do about the baby?

I can't think about that now. Can't think about anything except getting out, getting away, putting miles between myself and this town full of secrets and wolves and a bond I never asked for.

The howling stops.

The silence is worse. It presses against the windows, thick and waiting. Like the whole forest is holding its breath.

I zip the bag and grab my keys, heading for the door before I can change my mind. Before I do something stupid like go to them and beg them to make this ache stop. Before I admit that some part of me—some traitorous, desperate part—wants to stay.

The night air bites cold against my skin. Stars scatter across the sky, indifferent to the chaos of my life. I throw my bag in the car and slide behind the wheel.

My hands shake as I turn the key.

The engine roars to life.

I pull out of the driveway without looking back. The road unspools before me, dark and empty, leading away from Silverpine Falls. Away from werewolves and ancient bonds and men whose touch makes me forget how to breathe.

Away from them.

The golden thread stretches thin in my chest, aching, but I press the gas pedal harder and don't slow down.