Chapter 1
The problem with cooking a farewell dinner for ten Lycans was that none of them ate like normal people.
I’d spent the better part of the afternoon preparing enough food to feed a small wedding, and I was beginning to suspect I’d underestimated the amount of potatoes required. Again.
Three enormous roasting pans occupied the ovens, the kitchen island was covered in ingredients, and a pot of sauce simmered on the stove. I’d even made two desserts because Caspian had a habit of eating half of whatever I baked before anyone else got a chance.
Normally, cooking for everyone was one of my favorite things in the world. There was something comforting about a busy kitchen, especially one as beautiful as this. The old French estate we’d been staying in had an enormous country kitchen with cream cabinets, exposed wooden beams, copper pans hanging above the island, and windows overlooking a garden that looked like something out of a painting.
I’d fallen in love with it the moment we’d arrived.
Which was rather unfortunate, considering what I planned to announce tonight.
I glanced at the clock. Six fifteen. Everyone would be expecting dinner at seven, which gave me forty-five minutes to finish the vegetables, change my clothes, and somehow convince myself that I wasn’t about to ruin the evening.
Wonderful.
I stirred the sauce and reached for the wine I’d opened earlier. Not for drinking, unfortunately. The recipe called for it, and I was trying very hard not to start pouring myself a glass until dinner was actually served.
“Something smells incredible.”
I didn’t bother turning around.
“If you touch anything, I’ll stab you.”
“Such hostility, my darling Emma. And here I was coming to offer my assistance.”
Caspian.
Of course.
I looked over my shoulder and found him leaning against the doorway, looking entirely too pleased with himself. His blond hair was still damp from a shower, and he’d changed into dark trousers and a white linen shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.
It was deeply unfair that a man could look like that while doing absolutely nothing.
He smiled when he caught me looking.
“Miss me?”
“You were here twenty minutes ago.”
“An eternity.”
“You ate four pieces of bread.”
“Three.”
“Caspian.”
“The fourth was very small.”
I pointed my wooden spoon at him. “Out.”
Instead of obeying, he wandered into the kitchen and made himself comfortable on one of the stools opposite me. His blue eyes moved over the various dishes before settling on the bowl of roasted potatoes I’d foolishly left within reach.
I moved it.
He looked offended.
“You wound me.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Debatable.”
I returned to the stove, trying to ignore the way he watched me. Caspian had always enjoyed hanging around when I cooked. Sometimes he helped, though his definition of helping usually involved tasting everything and providing commentary nobody had requested.
Tonight, however, his presence made my stomach twist.
I was going to miss this.
Not the food theft. That was a genuine problem.
But the easy way he settled into whatever room I occupied, as though spending time with me was the most natural thing in the world.
“You’re quiet,” he observed.
“I’m cooking.”
“You usually talk while you cook.”
“Perhaps I’ve finally run out of things to say.”
He made a thoughtful sound. “Highly unlikely.”
I rolled my eyes, but his expression softened when I glanced at him.
“Everything all right, Emma?”
There it was. The question I’d been dreading.
For a moment, I considered telling him. It would be easier, wouldn’t it? Just blurt it out while he was sitting there looking ridiculously handsome, and perhaps he could help me explain everything to the others.
Except Caspian was the leader of our little group, and I didn’t want him finding out before everyone else. That would feel like asking his permission.
Which I absolutely did not need.
“I’m fine. Just a little nervous about dinner.”
His brows drew together. “Why?”
“Because I have something to talk to everyone about.”
“Something terrible?”
“No.”
He studied me for another moment, and I was suddenly very grateful that Lycans couldn’t read minds.
At least, I didn’t think they could.
Rose had once explained that mates could sense each other’s emotions through their bond, but I was fairly certain that didn’t extend to reading the minds of unrelated humans.
Thank God.
If Caspian had known half the things I’d thought about him over the last three years, I would have needed to leave the country much sooner.
“Well,” he said eventually, reaching across the counter and stealing a potato while I was distracted, “whatever it is, I’m certain we’ll survive.”
I smacked his hand with a dish towel.
He laughed, popped the potato into his mouth, and looked so entirely comfortable in my kitchen that my chest ached.
I hoped he was right.
Scene Two — The Life I Was Leaving
Rose appeared twenty minutes later, carrying a bottle of wine and wearing a dress that probably cost more than my first car.
She took one look at the kitchen and whistled.
“Jesus, Em. Are we feeding the entire village?”
“Apparently. Your husband eats like he’s preparing for hibernation.”
“He’s a growing boy.”
“He’s almost five hundred years old.”
“Exactly. Growing takes time.”
I laughed despite myself and accepted the wine she offered.
Rose was one of those women who could make you feel better simply by walking into a room. We’d been friends since before Alaric entered her life, back when our greatest concerns involved paying rent, terrible dates, and deciding whether we could afford takeout.
Then she’d met an ancient Lycan who looked like a medieval warrior and fell so hopelessly in love with her that he’d eventually turned her into one of his kind.
Life had gotten considerably more interesting after that.
She set the wine aside and began helping me arrange the vegetables on a serving platter.
“So,” she said, “what’s the big announcement?”
I hesitated.
“Can’t it wait until dinner?”
“It can. But you look like you’re about to tell us you’ve committed a murder.”
“Maybe I have.”
“Was it Caspian?”
“Not yet.”
She grinned. “Understandable.”
I smiled, but it faded when I looked down at the platter.
Rose noticed immediately.
“Em?”
I put the serving spoon aside. “I just need to talk to everyone together. I promise it’s not anything terrible.”
Her expression softened. “Okay.”
She didn’t push, which was one of the many reasons I loved her.
Instead, she started talking about an antique market she’d discovered in the village. Apparently, there was a stall selling old botanical prints and handmade pottery, and she’d already decided we were going tomorrow.
I nodded along, but something inside my chest tightened.
Tomorrow.
There were so many little tomorrows I’d taken for granted.
Shopping with Rose. Reading in the garden. Cooking dinner while Caspian annoyed me. Sitting around a table with people who’d somehow become my family.
I’d spent three years living like this.
Three years of traveling between beautiful homes, visiting places I’d once only seen in books, and being surrounded by people who looked as though they’d stepped out of Greek mythology.
When Rose first introduced me to the supernatural world, I’d been terrified.
Well, briefly.
