Chapter 1
The deadbolt clicked into place—a rhythmic, metal-on-metal finality that Sadie couldn’t shake, even in a town as sleepy as Copper Ridge. Big-city habits died hard, especially when your instincts were tuned to notice every shadow. She shed the weight of the day along with her work clothes, letting a hot shower wash away the mundane before sinking into the soft embrace of her favorite sweatshirt. She had just settled onto the couch with a bowl of popcorn when her phone buzzed, vibrating against the coffee table.
“Well, hello,” Sadie answered, dropping her voice into a playful, faux-suave baritone.
Willa’s laugh was immediate. “You’re so weird. How was the shift?”
“Quiet,” Sadie said, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. “Too quiet.”
“Quiet enough to finally say yes to Founder’s Weekend?” Willa pushed, her voice brimming with hope.
Sadie bit her lip, her appetite for the popcorn suddenly vanishing. “I don’t know, Willa. What did Kalen say about me crashing at the house?”
There was a pregnant pause.
“I didn’t exactly ask him.”
“Willa!” Sadie groaned. It was no secret that Kalen avoided her as if she carried a plague. The idea of invading his personal sanctuary for forty-eight hours felt like walking into a trap. “He’s going to be livid. He’ll probably demand you drive me back to the city limits the second I step through the door.”
“It’ll be fine,” Willa snorted. “Just trust me.”
An hour later, the pavement gave way to the rhythmic thrum of a dirt road. Willa’s truck kicked up dust as they approached the heart of the pack’s territory. The house sat like a crown on the hill, surrounded by a cluster of smaller homes that all seemed to bow toward it. As the massive timber structure came into view, Sadie’s pulse began to race—a flicker of nerves she attributed to the awkwardness of being an uninvited guest.
Don’t kill me, Willa flashed through the mind-link, her mental voice blooming with mischievous glee. Sadie is staying with us for the weekend.
The response from her brother was a jagged mental snarl that made Willa wince: Are you fucking joking?
Willa ignored him, killed the engine, and flashed Sadie a bright, forced grin. “Come on. You’re going to love the guest room.”
Sadie followed, her boots crunching on the gravel, but the moment she crossed the threshold, the world tilted. The air inside wasn’t just air—it was a heavy, intoxicating blend of crushed cedar and warm cinnamon that seemed to coat the back of her throat. It felt welcoming, almost like a physical embrace.
“Sadie, move it! You’re lagging,” Willa called out.
Sadie blinked, her senses reeling, but her heart remained steady. “Sorry... it just smells incredible in here. Is it a candle?”
Willa glanced toward the kitchen table, where Kalen sat. He was ostensibly focused on a card game, but his posture was rigid, his knuckles white as he gripped his hand. To him, Sadie’s scent was a riot of wildflowers and rain that made his wolf claw at his ribs. He looked at her, searching for even a flicker of recognition in her eyes—a dilation of the pupils, a catch in her breath—but there was nothing. Just a polite, slightly nervous smile.
“Yeah,” Willa muttered, eyeing her brother’s dark expression. “Kalen’s really into... aromatherapy lately.”
“I’m going to kill her,” Kalen growled under his breath. It was a lie. He wanted to pull her across the room, but the fact that she could stand five feet away and feel nothing was a rejection that burned worse than fire.
“So, she’s here,” Jathen remarked, leaning back and watching the tension crackle through the room. “And she clearly hasn’t felt a thing. Now what?”
Kalen’s eyes didn’t waver from Sadie. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”
“Well, figure it out fast,” Jonan added, his voice dropping to a serious undertone as he looked toward the window, where other pack members were gathering outside. “Before the other guys decide she’s fair game. We don’t need you tearing apart one of our own warriors because your mate doesn’t know she’s yours.”
The air in the kitchen was thick enough to choke on, but Sadie seemed blissfully unaware, dropping her duffel bag by the mudroom bench with a heavy thud.
“I’ll take that up for you,” Willa said, her voice a pitch too high. She grabbed the bag and bolted for the stairs, leaving Sadie standing alone at the edge of the kitchen.
Sadie shifted her weight, her gaze drifting to the table. She caught Kalen’s eye for a split second, but he looked away so fast she felt a physical pang of embarrassment.
“Hey, Kalen. Jonan. Jathen. Sorry for the intrusion. I can find a hotel in town if this is a bad time.”
“It’s fine,” Kalen said. The words were clipped, forced through a jaw so tight it looked like it might snap. He didn’t look at her; instead, he threw a card onto the table with enough force to make the wood ring.
“You’re staying,” Jathen added, offering a sympathetic, if somewhat pained, smile. “The Founder’s bonfire starts in an hour. You wouldn’t want to miss the opening ceremony.”
“Right. The bonfire.” Sadie tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I’ll just… go help Willa.”
She hurried toward the stairs, and the second her footsteps faded into the upper hallway, the tension in the kitchen exploded.
Kalen slammed his hand onto the table, sending the deck of cards scattering like autumn leaves. He stood, his chair screeching against the floor, and paced the small length of the kitchen like a caged animal.
“Did you smell that?” Kalen’s voice was a low, vibrating growl. “She’s wearing something—vanilla, or maybe it’s just her—and she walked in here asking about candles.”
“She’s human-raised, Kalen,” Jonan said calmly, though his eyes remained wary. “Her wolf is dormant, or she’s just… muted. You knew this was a possibility.”
“Knowing it and living it are two different things,” Kalen snapped. He stopped at the window, staring out at the yard where a group of younger warriors were tossing a football. His eyes narrowed as he watched one of them—a brawny Enforcer named Silas—look up toward the guest-room window. “She has no idea that every unmated male for three miles is about to catch her scent at that bonfire.”
“Which is why you should just tell her,” Jathen said, leaning back. “One mark. One claim. The scent profile changes, and the guys back off. Problem solved.”
Kalen turned on him, his eyes flashing a vivid, predatory gold. “I am not going to ‘claim’ her like a piece of territory when she doesn’t even feel the pull. You saw her. She looks at me and sees her best friend’s grumpy brother. If I tell her now, it’s not a mate bond to her—it’s a sentence. She’d be terrified.”
The gold in his eyes receded, replaced by a hollow sort of exhaustion. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window.
“I’ll keep my distance,” he muttered, more to himself than to them. “I’ll stay downwind. I’ll let her enjoy the weekend, and I’ll make sure the warriors keep their hands to themselves from the shadows.”
Jonan exchanged a look with Jathen. “You’re going to play bodyguard to a woman who doesn’t know she needs one while your wolf is screaming at you to bring her down? That’s a dangerous game, friend.”
“It’s the only game I’ve got,” Kalen whispered.
From the top of the stairs, Sadie peered down the hallway, her hand resting on the banister. She couldn’t hear their low voices, but the air felt charged, like the moments before a lightning strike. She rubbed her arms, a strange shiver running down her spine. For some reason, the smell of cedar was getting stronger, and for the first time, it didn’t just smell like a candle.
It smelled like home.
She shook the thought away. It’s just the mountain air, she told herself. Don’t be weird.
