“Just a graze,” Grandma mutters through gritted teeth as I press a clean cloth to her wound. “Don’t make that face, girl. I’ve had worse from a wood sprite with a bad attitude.”
But I keep pressing. Then I cleanse it and apply an antiseptic. When she’s bandaged and breathing easier, I guide her to her chair by the fire and turn my attention to Reid.
He barely flinches as I clean the blood from his wounds, which are already healing.
“Breathe,” I murmur, my mouth twitching. “In for four, out for six.”
He huffs a laugh. “Knew that would come back to haunt me.”
“I suppose enhanced healing is part of the whole wolf-shifter package?” I ask, half-teasing, half-serious as I focus on his wound, now a raw pink gash where Fenric’s claws raked across his ribs.
Reid nods. “One of the perks. The other is having a strong, beautiful, magical mate who breathes life into me and lights up my world.”
My breath catches, and I swallow back tears.
He catches my wrist gently, his hand warm. “You saved us tonight, Scarlett. Youchoseyour power. Wieldedit.”
“Because I had so much to protect,” I whisper, meeting his amber gaze. “The two people I love the most.”
His smile is lopsided and sexy as hell. “I love you, too, my little wolf.”
“Don’t mind me,” Grandma mutters, eyes still closed but a smile ghosting her mouth. “Just dealing with a headache from hell while you two flirt on my living room rug. And for the love of all things holy, close that blanket. I can see things I didn’t ask for and can’t unsee.”
Reid makes a choked sound somewhere between a laugh and a strangled cough as he secures the blanket tighter around his lean hips.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” I say, glaring at her and trying very hard not to think about the fact that, yes, Reid is very much naked under the blanket and yes, my grandmother just got a front-row seat.
“Iwasresting. Until Mr. Well-Endowed over there started talking about lighting up your world.”
Reid coughs again. “In fairness, I was trying to be romantic.”
“Next time, make sure you’re wearing pants,” Grandma mutters, but the edge of affection in her voice is impossible to miss.
Reid smirks and catches my hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss on my knuckles in a gesture that melts my heart.
“You’re mine,” he whispers. “And I’m yours. In blood. In bond. In whatever comes next.”
I nod. The fear that lingered like a shadow behind my ribs is gone, replaced by something solid and bright.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Whatever comes next.”
Chapter 12
Scarlett
The house smells like thyme and clean wood smoke again. It took three days to get there—three days of salt and sweeping, of washing the blood from the floorboards and coaxing the wards back into their hum. The spiral in the heart-plank has cooled to its usual amber sheen.
When the knock comes, the wards recognize it first. The hum shifts, soft and low—welcoming, not warning.
Reid looks up from where he’s stacking logs. Grandma’s crochet needle stills mid-stitch. My pulse stumbles.
“She’s here,” Grandma says quietly.
Reid comes to stand beside me and squeezes my hand.
The door opens, and Arya stands on the threshold, framed by early dusk. Her hair—red like mine, only deeper—catches the candlelight and glows. Her eyes are wary and bright, green laced with gold. She’s wrapped in a wool coat; one hand curved protectively over the swell of her belly. Gregor fills the space behind her, a quiet mountain of a man, his hand resting at her back.
She isn’t my mirror; she’s my echo.
