My face goes up in flames. I glance around, relieved none of the other diners seem to be leaning in to gossip.
"No. I know I should. It’s only a couple weeks away, but… I don’t know. We’ve had so much going on with the haunted house, courting, and I only just started to really connect with Victor. We’re going on our first courting date tomorrow at the festival. And Bram’s in the middle of a new novel. It doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up."
"When would be a good time? When you’re already in heat and can’t talk?" Rose says dryly.
I stick my tongue out at her.
"Unless you don’t want to spend your heat with them," Winnie says gently. "Considering what happened with Victor, it would be perfectly reasonable. You have to fully trust them."
"I trust them. I love them."
Three pairs of eyes snap to mine, all of them beaming. My cheeks burn hotter. It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud to anyone.
"But it’s just been… a lot,” I say. “The living situation. Figuring out things with Finian."
They’re all still staring at me expectantly.
"I will. I’ll tell them, soon."
They look unconvinced.
"Soon," I repeat. "My heat always hits a couple of days after Halloween. I’ll bring it up this week."
Sunny opens her mouth to argue, but a customer waves me over for more coffee.
As I spend the rest of the day waitressing and then helping to decorate the house, I can’t help wondering what my first heat with a pack will be like.
Clara
“Darlin',”avoicewhispersfrom the darkness.
I slowly blink awake.
“Finian?” I ask into the pitch dark.
“Darlin', come down,” his rich Irish accent calls to me.
“Down?” I murmur, still half in, half out of sleep. From just beyond my cracked door drifts the faint sound of a tune. I follow it, wading through something that feels like a dream. Everything is slightly hazy.
Downstairs glows with flickering candlelight. At the bottom of the stairs stands an alpha, tall, broad-shouldered. His back is to me, the fine dark grey suit stretched over hard muscle. When he turns, my breath hitches.
It’s Finian. The grainy black-and-white newspaper photo hadn’t done him justice. This Finian is solid, real. His skin is smooth and pale, his eyes bright, and his suit perfectly tailored and pressed.
He smiles and it's devastatingly handsome. “Hello, Darlin'.”
“H-hi,” I stammer, not from fear, but from being utterly stunned.
He offers his hand as I take the last few steps, and the moment reminds me of Rose joining Jack at the end of Titanic. Too bad I’m in ratty pajamas instead of a bejeweled gown.
If Finian notices, he doesn’t mind. As soon as I reach him, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest in a way that would have been scandalous in the early 1900s. He smirks like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Times change,” his low voice lilts. “Is this okay?”
I smile and nod. More than okay. There’s something about Finian. It's like we’ve already bonded. The energy between us is effortless.
The music shifts. I recognize “I Love You Truly”.When I learned the era Finian came from, I’d researched its popular songs, finding this one on a Spotify playlist.
As we sway, I feel completely safe in his arms. “When you saw me on the beach, why didn’t you tell me then?”