Elijah’s throat tightened in an attempt to keep him from spewing his guts all over Crescent Manor’s immaculate marble steps. His toe caught the lip of a step, making him stumble forward.

Verika gripped his arm to keep him from kissing the marble. “You okay?”

“I blame the dress shoes. Not used to wearing them.” At her disbelieving look, he reached up, loosened his tie a little. Damn thing was driving him nuts, like wearing a collar. A distant, haunting image drifted like a ghost through his mind’s eye: him locked away in a dark cell, deep within the earth, away from sunshine and freedom, where the air tasted like urine and metal, and cold iron chafed the skin around his neck. But, thanks to weekly therapy sessions he’d grown strangely fond of, the memory didn’t linger in his brain, didn’t elicit the fear that had once ruled his life. No, for the first time in, well, forever, he was able to remember the past and not get sick from it. He was free.

Well, almost. He was still a work in progress.

“No, I’m not okay,” he admitted. “I feel like I’m thirteen again. Like I’ve been caught drinking my dad’s beer and he’s taking his belt off. Like something horrible is about to happen.”

Verika gently took his hands in hers, turning him ever so slightly to face her head on. “Nothing bad is going to happen. Well, it’s a werewolf Thanksgiving. Gage warned me when the pack gets together for holiday meals, it can be like World War III. But it won’t be the whole pack. It will just be family.”

World War III he could handle. Kind of already did, in a way, back in the woods when he’d torched the house. It had all been very cathartic, though the smell of charred flesh, of kindling, never left him. He dreamed about it. Thought about it, smelled smoke even in the middle of a perfume store. The therapist said that memory was burned into his mind due to the severity of the trauma it wreaked on him.

Like he said, he was a work in progress.

“But what if something bad does happen?” he asked in a low whisper. “What if I show up and things go to hell? What if I ruin Thanksgiving for everyone?”

Verika’s eyes turned sympathetic. Her warm palm cupped his cheek, the silk of her thumb caressing the light stubble blanketing his jawline. “I know it’s been a long time since you’ve celebrated a holiday with family. But there’s nothing to be afraid of. Contrary to what you believe, your sheer presence doesn’t bring on death and destruction. You’re amazing, Elijah.”

“I didn’t mean it as a sympathy plea,” he said with a wry smile. “Though you can keep up with the ‘You’re amazing, Elijah’ stuff.”

She rolled her eyes, tried suppressing a smile. “You’re hopeless.”

“At least some things never change.” Nervous butterflies tickled his gut. He started pacing, which only made it worse. “God!” He stopped, ran his hand through his hair. Sweat had started to form on his brow. “I mean, I don’t know, baby. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter. They weren’t happy times at my house growing up. They were usually just another day for Dad to get drunk, for him to take out his anger and frustration on Mom if she burned dinner. Besides.” He sighed and shook his head. “I’m not sure I want to face them.”

“Face them, or face Nik?” Verika said quietly.

Damn it all, she was right. That’s exactly what this was about, his unresolved tension with Nik. Nik hadn’t spoken to him at the memorial, hadn’t called or answered his emails or texts throughout this past long, hard year while they rebuilt their lives. Gage and he had started speaking again, at least a few times a week. But Nik…Nik had remained silent.

Elijah supposed he should count the fact Nik hadn’t blocked his number as a blessing.

A soothing hand rubbed his back through his thick black wool coat. “You’ll be fine. You’re making this out to be a bigger deal than it is.”

“It’s a big deal to me.”

Verika sighed, let her hand drop away. Her head hung. “I’m sorry, Elijah. I didn’t mean it like that, to say it like it doesn’t matter.”

“I know you didn’t, love.” He took her hand, squeezed it, kissed the back of her knuckles. “God, your hand is freezing. We need to get you thicker gloves.”

She smiled wistfully. “Maybe Santa will bring me some, along with a few other presents when he sweeps down the chimney.” She lightly pinched his butt, making him burst into deep, hearty laughter.

“Sounds to me like I need to block the chimney. This Santa Claus character sounds kind of unscrupulous.”

Her brows rose. “Look at you, using fancy words. His Royal Gage-ness is rubbing off on you, after all.”

He snorted. “He wishes. Although he has started to sound more posh since becoming High King. Must be all the wealth going to his head.”

“Jealous?”

“Nah. Wouldn’t want the title, or the responsibility. Besides, real estate taxes on that castle must be a bitch. Not to mention the insurance.”

“Tell me about it. I’m content with our little country home, far removed from the city. And its sky-high real estate.”

“I’m with you there, love.”

It still made him proud to say it aloud, made his chest puff out, his shoulders pull back, his chin raise an inch—all with a genuine smile on his face.

Holy shit, he owned a house. He had a respectable job as a security advisor to the DPI. He lived in the beautiful Southern state of Florida, close to in-laws and a scant thirty minutes from the ocean. He was married to a beautiful woman, who was the most incredible person he knew. If someone had told him his life would be this perfect a year ago, he would have laughed.

Elijah the Fuck Up, get his act together? Bitch, please. Never in this lifetime. He was a damned soul, destined for an early grave.

But Lady Karma could suck it because he just showed that bitch up. He was done with the haters, with the people and thoughts who told him he’d never be good enough. Because he was, dammit. And he would show them—show the entire damn world, if he had to.

Newsflash, Universe—Elijah Johnson had turned over a new leaf.

And he was willing to fight every damn day for it.

He shook his head. “You’re right. As usual.”

“You can keep saying that, if you like.”

“Look at you, being all cheeky and sexy as hell. I like it.” He kissed his wife dearly, his mouth lingering over her lips. “And I plan on showing you just how much I like it when we get to the hotel.” Not wanting to crowd Alara and Nik, Verika and Elijah had opted to stay at a Holiday Inn in the next town about thirty minutes away. Moonstruck had a motel, but it was questionable at best. Maybe if a horde of roaches, stale coffee, and stained sheets were your thing.

Really, the idea of “crowding” Alara and Nik in this mansion was laughable. But Verika had insisted. Elijah secretly knew why, though they’d never spoken of it. Neither of them knew how tonight would turn out. Elijah could very well be leaving here with blood on his burnt-orange, pressed button-down and slacks, but neither he nor Verika was willing to say it aloud. Doing so might jinx them.

He offered Verika his arm. “Shall we?”

She took it, smiling warmly. “We shall. Lead the way, Mr. Johnson.”

“As you wish, Mrs. Johnson.”

She leaned in to kiss him sweetly on the lips. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

“And I’ll never get tired of saying it.”

They started to kiss again, when the door opened.

Nik stood there, stone-faced, unreadable. And…and was that a tie he had on? Verika searched her brain. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him wear one before, didn’t think he owned one among his wardrobe of greasy hoodies and beat-up T-shirts. She scanned the rest of him. Khakis, dress shoes, a button-down—she nearly gasped—and it was tucked in with a belt to match his shoes. She nearly fainted from shock. Probably would have had she not felt her husband’s tension crackling through their mate-bond.

Her eyes snapped back up to Nik’s face.

Both Verika and Elijah froze, like two horny teens who’d been caught making out on Mommy and Daddy’s porch.

Nik stared at Elijah.

Elijah stared back.

Verika just held her breath and prayed this wasn’t about to turn into a fistfight.

Nik finally smirked, as if relishing the fact Elijah was about to shit a brick. He rolled his eyes in exaggeration. “Oh, come on. They’re making out on the front steps. No wonder it was taking so long for them to come inside.”

Gage appeared in the doorway behind his older brother. Dressed much the same as the other two brothers, only he didn’t look nearly so out of place in the more formal attire. In his hand, he clutched a wine glass partly filled with white wine. “What the hell are y’all doing out there? Get your asses in here. Danica and Alara just about have dinner ready.”

Verika clutched the pecan pie they’d picked up at a diner on the way in town, feeling suddenly insecure about her choice of dessert. It was a homemade pie and probably delicious. But Danica and Alara were both rich. Which was a stupid reason for thinking they’d be able to cook well solely because of their money, but it was the first thing to pop into her head. Should she have brought something fancier, something more sophisticated?

They’re going to love it, Elijah said, as if reading her thoughts. And if they don’t, I’ll sure as hell eat the shit out of that pie.

Thanks, baby, she said with a warm smile.

Both of them took a deep breath as they ascended the rest of the steps and walked into the house. Warm air from the roaring fire in the parlor immediately blasted them. The fire and fall decorations—glittering leaves, glistening pumpkins, and Happy Thanksgiving signs—gave the manor a homier feel.

One of the butlers took their coats and scurried off out of view. Verika felt herself start to relax. Elijah, on the other hand, looked more wound up than ever standing in the presence of both his brothers. For the most part they seemed welcoming, affectionate even. Well, Gage was. He pulled Elijah into a hug soon as he stepped through the door.

Nik shook his hand in a grip that might have been a bit tighter than required. There was a hardness that lingered behind his eyes, a sense of distrust as he stared at his older brother. That didn’t surprise Verika. She expected the distrust, knew it would take years to mend Nik’s faith in his brother. She was just thankful no blood had been spilled.

Yet. The night was early.

She shifted her weight while the brothers chatted, looking around, not wanting to butt in.

Nik spotted her discomfort. “You can take the pie and put it in the dining room. They have a dessert table set up. Here, I’ll show you.” He pulled her away. She cast a smile over her shoulder at Elijah before disappearing around the corner.

The smells wafting out of the dining room were amazing, and her mouth immediately began to water. “Hmmm…smells divine.”

“Tastes even better. I’ve been dipping a spoon or fork into every dish they bring in. You know, to make sure it’s up to the Johnson quality standards.”

Verika snorted. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

Nik’s eyes softened. He seemed to have more wrinkles, now that she noticed, and several silver hairs streaked the dark brown. “I’ve changed a lot,” he said quietly. “Some for the better…”

He didn’t need to say the rest. “Yeah,” she said. “I know what you mean.” They’d all been changed since that night. A night when the moon had ridden high in the sky, gazing down at a field awash in blood and death.

She shivered, shook her head, and shoved the thought far away. Not tonight. This was not a night to dwell on darkness. It was a night to be thankful for what one had. And she had so much to be thankful for.

They dropped off the pie, nestled it between a tri-layer carrot cake, a chocolate cream pie with girlish chocolate curls on its frosting, and red velvet brownies with cream cheese icing. She couldn’t wait, in particular, to dig into those.

Nik ushered her into the massive state-of-the-art kitchen, a culinary kingdom of gleaming black appliances, glittering orange- and dark-red-flecked quartz countertops, and shining black tile flooring. An assortment of messy cooking aids—wooden spoons, measuring cups, timers, brushes, and mixing bowls—sat along the countertops. It smelled amazing; the warm aromas of roasting turkey, green bean casserole, and apple pie mingled in the air and reminded Verika of her own holidays back at home. Her parents hadn’t minded one bit that she was going to spend Thanksgiving away from home, considering she’d already promised they’d spend Christmas there. Her father still wasn’t too happy about her marrying Elijah, but he was warming up to the idea. It was hard to stay mad at a man who’d risked everything to save his daughter’s life.

Danica and Alara scampered about in a cooking frenzy, checking this and that, all dolled up, hair and makeup perfect, aprons on to protect their dresses of silk and taffeta. The aprons were black, with I heart werewolves sewn across the front in swirling cursive script.

Danica wore gold, which looked fantastic on her. Really set off the paler yellow of her hair, which had been swept up into a messy yet elegant updo at the nape of her neck. Diamonds sparkled at her ears, and a gold-and-silver bracelet glittered about her wrist. Though she’d given birth about six months ago, her belly still held a bit of baby weight. The generous silk of the A-line gown rippled like water as she moved. She looked beautiful and elegant. Her face looked rounder, her arms plumper.

Verika smiled. Secretly, she wished that would be her someday. Elijah and she had talked about kids, had both decided they wanted them. They had already started trying, though nothing had come of it yet.

Yet.

A secret, hopeful wish, one she would pray for tonight at dinner.

But she wasn’t bitter or jealous. After all that had happened, after every trial and tribulation they’d endured, she was thankful for everyone around her. For the jewels in her life, for they were many.

Her heart swelled with gratitude.

Alara wore her hair down, though tied halfway back at the base of her neck. She wore rose-colored taffeta and sequins that stopped right above her knees, and silver, sparkly pumps. A bit flashier than Verika had seen the werewolf princess wear, but she still looked no less poised for it. She had the feeling Alara could wear a bath towel and make it look glamorous.

And despite that revelation, she didn’t feel the teensiest bit jealous. It seemed petty to be. After one had faced down death, had stared its bottomless, empty pits down, not much else seemed to rival it in severity.

No dark thoughts tonight. Only joy.

Alara and Danica looked up as Nik went to the fridge to snag another beer. Verika didn’t even ask why he wasn’t drinking wine, knew he preferred beer over “those fancy-smancy drinks” any day. She also had enough sense not to say that knowledge aloud lest it be too intimate an admission. Despite their relationship feeling less strained, Alara might not take too kindly to Verika saying something like that. It could be viewed as waving a neon flag in front of the other wolf’s face, like shouting, “Hey, I used to be in a relationship with your mate, and we were close.” And Verika had no desire to trigger Alara’s innate territorial instincts.

Yeah, she’d better keep her mouth shut on that one.

Alara swatted Nik’s bottom as he popped the cap and took a swig of his fresh beer. “Don’t chug too much of that stuff. You’re going to be full before we’ve even started dinner.”

“Me, full? Do you remember you’re married to a walking, breathing garbage disposal?” He grinned and kissed her.

Alara’s eyes shimmered as she smiled back. “You’re the sexiest garbage disposal I’ve ever seen.”

“Speaking of sexy,” Danica turned her gaze on Verika and smiled broadly, “that dress looks amazing on you! Really brings out your hair color!”

Verika’s dress was crushed forest-green velvet that sat right at her knees. The stretchy material hugged her curvy body, the long sleeves coating her arms, and the V-neckline just low enough to be sexy but not trashy. She’d worn a black lace bra that doubled as a camisole, peeking above the dip of the neckline where the medallion her mother gave her rested. Black velvet pumps, black stockings, and simple black earrings completed the ensemble. She’d even taken the time to apply dark-red lipstick and smoky eye shadow. Her long hair was just as polished, with long loose curls dripping over her shoulders, her back. She looked pretty damn good, she had to admit. And the entire ensemble had cost her only fifty bucks, thanks to catching some pre­–Black Friday sales and the right combination of coupons.

Verika blushed faintly. “Thank you.”

Danica scurried over in her gold kitten heels and wrapped Verika up in a warm hug. It was hard to remember she was one of the most powerful women, politically speaking, in the Underworld because she was so…well, human. “You’re welcome! I am so glad you could make it. Hope the airport wasn’t too much of a nightmare.”

“Thank you. It actually wasn’t too bad. We didn’t have a layover, and security ran things pretty smoothly in Florida. They even had our luggage ready to go soon as we got to the luggage belt in Little Rock, so all in all it was a surprisingly smooth trip considering what time of year it is.”

“That is a smooth trip.” Alara came over and hugged Verika, though not quite as tightly as Danica had. Verika suspected that was mostly because Alara was a more reserved person, or perhaps she wasn’t the hugging type. “I’m envious. A black cloud seems to follow me around whenever I set foot inside an airport. You do look beautiful, by the way.”

Verika didn’t sense any hostility or bitterness in the other woman’s voice, and her eyes lit up with her smile. Verika smiled back. “Thank you. So do both of you. How’s the baby?”

“Spoiled rotten,” Danica said. “I was actually just about to grab him. Come on. I’ll introduce you.” She peeled off the apron and tossed it on a dinette table. “You okay without me?” she asked Alara.

Alara waved a hand. “Yeah, dinner’s pretty much done. I just need to candy the yams, butter the rolls, then we’ll be ready. If I need any help, I’ll draft Chef Nikolas.”

“I’ll butter your roll,” he growled, pinching Alara’s butt.

She yelped and swatted him on the arm with a spatula. “Do you ever behave?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

Danica rolled her eyes and grinned as she turned back to Verika. “Let’s get out of here before they decide to heat up the kitchen in more ways than one.”

Danica led her away, down a hallway with more extravagant furnishings, things that probably cost as much as Verika made at her personal-assistant day job back in Florida.

“How are things going with the new job?” Danica asked. “Working for the Hexes must feel like a dream.”

It was, in many ways. It was certainly a position many a witch and warlock coveted. As thanks for her service to the Underworld in stopping Mistress Black, Sebastian Hex had aided Gage in convincing the High Council to pardon her crimes in aiding and abetting a known criminal (now, ironically, her husband) and as a reward had given her a job in the new company Hex Inc., which had opened up in the Southeast. It was about a half-hour commute from their little countryside home, but Verika didn’t mind. Truly, she was thankful to be able to walk freely in a city without fear of someone recognizing her and turning her in to the DPI. The newfound freedom was intoxicating.

Was it her dream job? Yes and no. She got to work with magic every day. Despite being a glorified secretary to Sebastian Hex, she got to learn from him. He’d picked up on the fact she was a quick study and a talented and resourceful witch, and as such had taken to teaching her about business and magic whenever he could. Though she was intimidated by such a powerful family name at first, she’d grown to think of Sebastian as more of an older-brother figure. Warm, patient, and protective.

“I’ve learned a lot from Mr. Hex,” she said carefully, “though I would love to someday open and run my own magic shop. Maybe even make it online only, and pay a warehouse to keep my potions and ship them when orders come in. That way I could work from home.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing! I bet you’d be really good at it too. You’re so smart. Do you know what you’d call it, your business?”

Verika smiled wistfully. “Satine’s.”

Danica gave her a sympathetic smile and a gentle squeeze of the hand. “I think it sounds lovely. You’ll do it someday. Just keep dreaming, keep praying, keep wishing. If you never give up, your dreams will come true.”

“Thanks, Danica,” Verika said quietly, her eyes growing hot.

Danica smiled and nodded. “Ah, we’re here. We had to make an impromptu nursery, since none of the Moonstruck Pack members have pups young enough to appreciate a play room.”

Verika felt incredibly awkward for asking the next question. Maybe it wasn’t her place, but she was curious. “Are…Nik and Alara still trying?”

Danica sighed, crossed her arms outside a pretty baby-blue door. A baby’s coos could be heard on the other side. “They are. They’re not giving up hope for a baby of their own, though even with fertility treatments, the doctor thinks their chances of conceiving are slim to none.”

“That’s too bad.” She knew Nik wanted kids, had really been looking forward to it. He’d never admitted it to anyone else when she’d dated him, though he’d confessed it to her deep in the night, when they lay tangled in each other’s arms after fabulous—

Okay, that was definitely something she didn’t need to be thinking about. The idea of having sex with anyone else but her husband made her cringe.

“They’re sure Nik’s the one who’s infertile?” Verika asked in a whisper.

Danica glanced around, leaned closer. “Positive. There’s nothing wrong with Alara, so far as they can tell.”

“A talented Blue Witch or Warlock should be able to repair that.”

“Except Nik refuses all magical treatment. Something about not wanting magic to mess with his body again.”

“Again?”

Danica’s eyes widened a fraction, as if she had spouted off something she wasn’t supposed to. “He’s…been going to a therapist.”

“Why?”

“For trauma. You know, when he died?”

Ah. That made more sense. She’d never known Nik to be afraid of magic, but perhaps he was now after Alara, being possessed by the doppelganger, had sacrificed him in an attempt to stop Mistress Black. Verika had been able to bring him back from the grave, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t left a mark on his psyche. He was so stubborn, so good at wearing masks and showing the world what he wanted it to see, that it had completely slipped her mind he might be suffering on the inside as well.

She felt sorry for him. “I can give him the name of the therapist Elijah has been working with. Eli’s come a long way.”

“Actually, I think Nik might not take it very well if he finds out we’ve been discussing his personal life. He’ll figure out a way to deal with it. I think part of the reason he hasn’t is because he’s still in denial that he’s afraid. He’s afraid it will make him seem like a weak Alpha.”

“As if. Reckless maybe. And impulsive. But never weak.”

“My thoughts exactly. Look, please don’t say anything, even to Elijah. I don’t want word getting around I’ve been blabbing about him behind his back. I just don’t need the drama right now, not with taking care of my son.”

“Understood.”

Danica smiled, took a deep breath, let it out. “Good. Now that that’s out in the open, ready to meet my baby boy?”

The dinner was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Elijah still couldn’t believe the direction his life had taken. Couldn’t believe he was sitting around a table with his brothers and their mates, that the love of his life sat beside him. The smell of apple pie and all manner of sugary confections hung in the air as they dug into dessert. Elijah was so stuffed he thought he didn’t have any room left for pie or cake. Then someone had plopped a slab of carrot cake, his absolute favorite, in front of him, and that’s all the convincing it had taken.

Oh, how very lucky he was.

The baby, Max, giggled as Danica, clutching him with one hand, swirled a tiny spoon crowned in sweet potatoes through the air while making airplane noises. She popped the spoon into the pup’s smiling mouth, kissed his forehead while he happily munched.

As if sensing him watching, the pup’s eyes—green as a spring day—landed on him, and he grinned. Elijah couldn’t help but to smile back. Those bright eyes were so full of joy and innocence, so untouched by the darkness of the world, that it struck him with wonder.

Verika slightly nudged him with her elbow, and cocked her head in an inquiring look. “Everything okay?”

He smiled softly, his gaze lingering on the pup. “Yeah,” he murmured wistfully. “Everything’s good.”

After dinner, everyone helped clean up, men included. More wine and treats were passed around, and Elijah could honestly say it was the lightest he’d felt in a while. Nik had spoken to him some, though not as much as Gage. Even Alara, despite everything that had passed between them, had treated him with nothing but warmth and kindness. Given how he’d expected to be treated pretty much like a leper, he was ecstatic things were going this well.

Until Gage had the brilliant idea of inviting Elijah out “for a smoke” on the main balcony.

Naively, he walked outside with Gage, wineglass in hand while Gage carted out a box of cigars that probably cost more than Elijah made in a month. Gage set the box down on the wide marble railing and frowned. “Hang on, I forgot something. Be right back.”

Elijah gazed out over the view of the darkened forest below, watched the tips of the distant oaks and pines sway in the cool breeze coming out of the north. Soon, there would be snow capping those tall points.

His expression turned somber. Winter always brought with it a sense of inner coldness, an acute prickling of regret, after he became a man. It had taken the fancy-smancy therapist, courtesy of Visa and MasterCard, to figure out why.

It had been snowing when he’d left home. When he’d turned his back on his family. The snow, the cold…they were “triggers,” his shrink had called them.

Triggers was a soft term for the depression spiral the biting cold and glittering snowflakes plunged Elijah into every winter.

He shook his head. No more regrets, his therapist said. He couldn’t change the past. All he could do was forgive, forget, and forge forward.

Don’t delay progress.

The balcony door clicked open, and someone inhaled sharply.

Elijah turned—and froze.

There stood Nik again, one hand still frozen on the door handle as if undecided whether or not he wanted to come outside.

Elijah’s heart pounded, nerves tickling his stomach. He could hear Nik’s heart rate, racing along as fast as his own. He realized Gage’s trick, that he had planned this all along, and silently cursed him.

Too late to back out now. Don’t be a pussy.

“Hey,” Elijah said gruffly, clearing his throat as his voice rasped from the cold-air exposure. He hated winter for more reasons than one. It also tended to bring on sinus infections.

Nik surveyed him for a long moment before at last closing the door and joining Elijah on the balcony. He stood a good three feet away, not looking at him as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the railing. He gazed out at the sleeping forest, the sound of scraping branches and the light whistle of the wind the only sounds to be heard for what seemed like hours.

Well, this was awkward. Elijah ran his hand through his hair, fidgeted. Should he say something? Would it drive Nik away if he did? Should he wait until Nik was ready?

“What took you so long?”

Elijah blinked, snapped his gaze around. “What?”

Nik turned his body so he faced Elijah head on, a stern look of disapproval on his face. “I’m asking, why you just now coming around?”

Elijah stared. Was this a trick question? “I—uh—wait, what? What are you talking about?”

Nik rolled his eyes, looked away. That scowl was back. “You sent emails and texts. But you never called me.”

“I thought it might be too much too soon. I thought I’d ease into things with texts and emails first. I didn’t know you wanted me to call.”

“Of course I wanted you to,” Nik said tiredly after a moment. “I’m stubborn, and an asshole sometimes. All right, most of the time. But…” He growled a sigh and a curse. “Dammit, man, you’re still my big brother, and I still missed the hell out of you.”

Elijah’s heart swelled, and he nearly took flight right off the balcony he was so overcome by hope. “You mean it?”

“Hell yeah, I mean it. Wouldn’t be spouting off all this mushy bullshit if I didn’t.”

Elijah was so flabbergasted, he couldn’t string together a coherent sentence. “I…wow. Wow.”

Nik smiled wryly, one corner of his mouth lifting up. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”

“So…do you want to, uh, what, hang out sometime?”

Nik snorted. “Nah, we’re not in grade school, man. But we can grab a beer sometime and catch up.” His gaze sobered. “I’m ready to listen now.”

Elijah stopped breathing. He’d been praying for this, had been wishing every night since he left that his brothers would someday find it in their hearts to forgive him.

Elijah started to spread his arms, to approach his brother for a hug. Nik immediately tensed, and Elijah stopped. “Too much too soon?”

“Yeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhh.”

“Noted.”

Nik didn’t linger long after. After giving Elijah what was probably the most awkward brotherly slap-on-the-shoulder in the history of the world, he went back inside. Verika pattered out a short while later, a freshly opened bottle of chilled merlot in her hand.

“Figured you could use this.” She filled his glass halfway.

He smiled wryly. “Thanks.” The cold wine tasted bittersweet going down.

Setting the bottle down on the floor, she wrapped her long arms around his waist. He draped an arm over her back, relishing the warmth her presence brought him.

“Everything go well?” she murmured against his chest.

He rested his head against hers, staring up at the night sky. The moon was partly obscured by a smattering of clouds. The wind shifted them slowly, drawing out the pale, silvery light.

Elijah smiled. “Yeah. It did, actually. Surprisingly so.”

“That’s good to hear.”

In a flurry of words, Elijah went over what Nik and he had talked about. “And he wants me to call him sometime so we can go for beers,” he finished.

Verika chuckled. “Someone sounds happy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really am, Vee.”

She hugged him tighter. “I’m glad, because that makes two of us.”

The two of them held each other in thoughtful silence. It was the lightest Elijah had felt in years, maybe since his early childhood, when the world was still fresh and wondrous.

Nik and Elijah’s relationship still wasn’t there yet, but he was hopeful it would be someday, if he didn’t give up and kept working at it. Which made him deliriously happy. For the first time in a long while, he had hope.

For a better tomorrow. For a better future.

And, with his mate in his arms, for a better forever.

 

 

THE END

 

 

Looking for your next hot read? Try Carnal, now available. (Free for a limited time.)