Page 79 of Who Let The Wolves Out?

The moon climbs higher, and we eat slowly, lazily, like the night’s suspended just for us.

When we get to the s’mores, Jason tries to toast a marshmallow over a floating lantern, whichdefinitelydoesn’t work. I light a tiny camp-safe flame in my palm—one of the only spells I’ve really mastered—and he roasts one with exaggerated reverence.

“This is how champions cook,” he declares.

“I’m so honored to witness it.”

We laugh until we’re breathless. Then the silence comes—not awkward, not tense. Just full.

Full of stars.

Full of peace.

I take a sip of cider, eyes on the moon’s reflection.

“I used to think romance had to be big,” I whisper. “Grand gestures. Roses. Fancy dinners. But this? This is what I really wanted.”

Jason’s quiet for a second.

Then he says, “You know what I wanted?”

I glance at him.

“Someone who makes a dock picnic feel like the most important thing in the world.”

My heart stutters.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” I whisper.

He turns toward me, eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them.

“I already fell.”

The stars are brighter now, like they’ve inched closer just to listen.

I rest my head against his shoulder, my voice small in the hush of the lake. “Can I tell you something kind of... scary?”

Jason’s arm wraps around me immediately, protective and gentle all at once. “Always.”

I swallow hard, the words catching like pebbles in my throat. “Even though I’m happy—really happy—I still get nervous sometimes. About… this. About us.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.

So I keep going.

“My last relationship... it was built on lies. I didn’t know how much until it all fell apart. And even now, even with you—someone I trust completely—there’s this little part of me that’s still bracing. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Jason’s quiet for a second, just breathing next to me.

Then he gently shifts, turning so we’re face to face in the moonlight. His hands cradle mine, rough thumbs brushing softly over my knuckles.

“Alice,” he says, voice deep and sure, “I know you’ve been hurt. And I hate that. I hate that anyone made you feel like love is something you have to tiptoe around.”

I blink back the sting in my eyes.

“I’m not perfect,” he says, “but I’myours.You’ve got my loyalty, my honesty—every stupid, stubborn, werewolfy part of me. You’re not just some girl I care about. You’re mymate.And that means something to me. It means everything.”

He pauses, squeezing my hands.

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