“No more braid?” He smiled, twirling my cropped locks in his fingers. “I like it. It’s a good look for you.”

I didn’t answer and his smile disappeared.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said quietly.

“I am alone.” My chest felt hollow.

“You know that isn’t true.”

I drew a sharp breath and fisted my hands. “Tell me what is true, then.”

“You loved him.” His eyes held mine.

“Yes.” The word hung between us, naked in its truth. I couldn’t find another breath to steady my trembling body.

He took another step toward me, and his words came out low but steady. “But not the way you love me.”

I stumbled backward as if he’d struck me.

“Calla,” he murmured, and reached for my arm. “You can’t blame yourself. What you’ve done, how you feel, none of it makes Ren’s choice your fault.”

I twisted away from his outstretched hand.

“Stop,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about this. I can’t.”

“You’re right,” he said gently. “It’s not the time to talk.”

He moved so quickly his body blurred for a moment, and then I was in his arms. I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging deep into his skin, but he didn’t let go. He only held me closer.

I snarled and struggled, but Shay kept me locked tight against him. I felt the steady beating of his heart next to mine. Moisture coursed over my face, the silky mist in the air mixing with my tears.

Shay kissed me gently, tracing the pattern of sorrow with his lips. I clung to him. Quiet, soothing murmurs passed from his lips as he continued to kiss me.

When the storm of grief subsided, I lifted my chin and my lips found his. He slowly pulled my lower lip between his teeth, and I threw myself into the kiss with such force that Shay lost his balance and fell, sending us tumbling down the garden path. We stopped rolling and I found myself beneath him. I’d barely caught my breath when I kissed him again, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. I felt a growl rumble in his chest, and he shrugged the shirt from his shoulders. I twined my fingers in his hair, slightly damp from the subtle rainfall.

His lips moved down my neck. I could hear my own breath come in short, shallow pulls, almost gasps. The night air of the garden, sweet with budding roses but sharpened by the salt tang of the ocean, slipped between my parted lips.

Shay’s mouth stroked the bare skin of my stomach, and for a moment I wondered what had happened to my shirt. And my leather pants.

His kiss moved further down the line of my body and I no longer cared where any of my clothes were.

Layers of silver clouds above us parted like gauze curtains lifted by the wind, and slender vines of moonlight curled around our bodies. Shay moved over me as the night sky opened up, his body silhouetted by pale light that shimmered in the garden. His lipsbrushed my cheek, his hips settled against mine. I could feel every pulse of his heart as we pressed together, skin to skin. I shivered as I felt something deep within me rising, opening, aching for something only he could give me. When he kissed me again, I thought I would break apart with need. He pulled back, watching me silently. A question waited for me in his eyes.

“Yes,” I murmured.

I kissed him again and there were no more questions to be answered.

TWENTY-EIGHT

SNIP. SNIP.

Bryn’s mouth twisted as she concentrated on the task at hand.

“Really, Cal, if you wanted a haircut, you should have just asked. You’ve made a complete mess of this.”

I watched strands of my hair drift to the floor. It hadn’t been easy to get here. I’d managed to disentangle myself from Shay’s arms and slip unnoticed from his room, quietly making my way back to my own.

It wasn’t that I was sorry for spending the night with him, but I didn’t know what the morning would bring, and my head was already spinning with everything that had transpired in the last twenty-four hours. I needed some time alone before I’d be ready to talk to Shay about last night in the garden. And his room.

The memory sent flames licking through my belly and I shuddered.

“Calla, I swear I’m not going to hurt you,” Bryn said through clenched teeth. “Can you please hold still?”

“Sorry.”

Guilt had nipped at my heels with each step as I’d searched for my packmates, finding them at last exactly where I’d left them. My stomach rumbled as the scent of freshly baked bread and citrus rolled over me. The dining room was busy that morning, but not full to bursting as it had been when I’d fled from the previous night’s assembly. Searchers moved in and out of the room, some grabbing croissants and popping grapes into their mouths as they went about their mornings, others lingering over steaming cups of coffee at various tables.

Nev, Bryn, Adne, Connor, Silas, Tess, and Sabine—who appeared to have fully recovered—were gathered at the same table where the Searchers had shared coffee two days ago. Ethan and Mason were conspicuously absent. I approached the table slowly. Someone else seemed to be missing too. My chest burned when I realized I’d been looking for Monroe.

I’d joined them at their table, ready to make up an excuse for my absence and answer all the questions they had about how I’d come to form an alliance with the Searchers.

But my appearance had stopped all conversation, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Adne had furrowed her brow before shrugging, turning her attention back to her bowl of fresh fruit and cream. Silas kept tilting his head back and forth as if trying to figure out what exactly was different about me. Tess was kind enough to smile a greeting but not say anything. A grin kept sliding on and off Nev’s mouth as though he wanted to laugh, but knew better.