Romance

  Jacob&#39;s Perspective
  The last logs in the bonfire collapsed into a bed of glowing embers, pulsing with deep red light, letting out the occasional *pop* that sent up a shower of brief, dying sparks. The air was a complex mix of woodsmoke, burnt sugar, old alcohol, and pure, undiluted happiness.
  Everyone was happy.
  Hell, so was I.
  I was sitting on the bottom step of the lodge porch, my back against the rough-hewn log wall. One leg stretched out, the other bent. Celena leaned against my chest, her weight slight but real, her body warmth seeping through our thin clothes. Her hair brushed my chin, smelling of woodsmoke, night dew, and that unique scent of hers—like damp moss and warm spice.
  I could feel it—the genuine relaxation in her. Not the limp exhaustion of being worn out, but a… looseness seeping from her very bones. Since we’d left that dress shop street, since the driv

  Jacob&#39;s Perspective
  The days that followed flowed like honey left to warm in the sun—slow, thick, and sweet enough to make a person feel lightheaded. Assuming, of course, you weren&#39;t the type to gag on sappy metaphors.
  The hangover crew didn&#39;t start dragging themselves off the floor and out of chairs until well past noon the next day, groaning, clutching their heads, and cursing as they hunted for water. Lily&#39;s eyes were still hazy when she spotted me, but they sharpened quickly, darting between Celena and me before her mouth stretched into a knowing grin.
  I ignored her, shoving a mug of strong black coffee into her hands to shut her up.
  Celena&#39;s condition improved visibly, day by day. It wasn&#39;t a forced, put-on cheerfulness, but a slow, steady resurgence of life from the inside out. In the mornings, she’d wake with me—not jolted from a nightmare, but na

  Lily&#39;s Perspective
  The tension visibly drained from Ethan&#39;s shoulders, and from my brother Keith’s, whose usual “the sky can fall, someone taller will catch it” demeanor masks the fact he worries more than anyone. Even the stubborn stress pimples on Keith’s jaw had receded. Their patrols became less frequent, shorter, with more responsibility passed to the younger cubs to learn the borders and hone their senses. As Keith put it: “We can’t rely on our old noses forever. New blood needs to learn how to mark its own territory.”
  We all knew why. It wasn’t that the Hunters had suddenly found peace. The chaos Jacob and Celena had stumbled into was like a bleeding chunk of fresh meat, holding the rapt attention of every hyena and vulture that had caught the scent.
  It was a relief, but a heavy, damp piece of wood seemed lodged in the pit of my stomach.
  Sometimes, in the dead qu

Jacob&#39;s Perspective
  The last logs in the bonfire collapsed into a bed of glowing embers, pulsing with deep red light, letting out the occasional *pop* that sent up a shower of brief, dying sparks. The air was a complex mix of woodsmoke, burnt sugar, old alcohol, and pure, undiluted happiness.
  Everyone was happy.
  Hell, so was I.
  I was sitting on the bottom step of the lodge porch, my back against the rough-hewn log wall. One leg stretched out, the other bent. Celena leaned against my chest, her weight slight but real, her body warmth seeping through our thin clothes. Her hair brushed my chin, smelling of woodsmoke, night dew, and that unique scent of hers—like damp moss and warm spice.
  I could feel it—the genuine relaxation in her. Not the limp exhaustion of being worn out, but a… looseness seeping from her very bones. Since we’d left that dress shop street, since the drive home, she’d been quiet. But this quiet was different. Before, her silence was a taut wire, a su

Chapter 245