Page 44 of Lycans & Lattes

“I’m not,” she deadpanned. “But it’s their off-season, so all the monsters are hitting them up before the weather shifts.”

I cringed at the word shifts. “Maybe the next time I need to get out of town, I’ll consider it. We’ll make it a girls’ trip.”

She beamed at that. Well, Avery’s version of beaming, which was more like a subtle eyebrow lift.

“Isn’t that the Christmas town just north of here?” Harlow chirped up behind me. “Jordyn and Iris have been talking about it for months. Apparently, they have the world’s best hot chocolate. I want to go too.”

“We’ll make a plan,” Avery assured her. “I have to get back to the market, but we’ll talk later, yeah?”

I nodded as she left the shop, then turned to Harlow. “Okay, where are the werewolf reference books?”

“Aisle three,” the witch at the counter called, pointing toward the left without looking up from her phone. The gemstones dangling from her eyeglasses chains glittered with the movement.

“Thanks, Diana,” Harlow called, then said to me in a hushed tone, “She hears everything. Jordyn says it’s a spell to help her assist customers, but I think she just likes to eavesdrop from afar.”

Diana appeared at my side, making me jump. “Actually, it’s both.”

Diana Kang was a witch in her forties with a bookish, eclectic style. Today, she wore a chunky cardigan, billowy top, and brown loafers, and her straight black hair was tied at the nape of her neck in a bun. She and Citrine were also known as the biggest partakers of the coven’s witch weed.

“All the werewolf lore we have is filtered through the wolf pack. They have to keep some secrets to themselves,” Diana mused, panning her gaze up and down my body. “But what’s a little exchange of favors between friends?”

Harlow and I looked at one another. I shouldn’t get more people involved, but from the look in Diana’s mystically dark eyes, I didn’t think it mattered.

“Sure,” I said. “I can try to help with a small, equal-in-size favor. I need all the help I can get.”

She peered around the shop, then leaned in closer to whisper, “There have been rumblings among the older generations of the pack. Some have been vocal about the soon-to-be alpha, but none louder than Sandra Sullivan . . . and Marcus Farris.”

I wasn’t surprised by that information. Marcus was Aisling and Liam’s maternal grandfather and the town physical therapist. He was training his nephew to take over the practice, but Jeremy had only graduated last year and had a long way to go. It seemed the pack was rife with torches that needed to be passed these days.

“Thanks, Diana. That’s actually a big help,” I said, taking one step toward the exit before her bejeweled fingers gently tugged my wrist.

“Not so fast,” she said, dreamy-eyed. “I quest for something as well.”

I bit my tongue at her use of the word “quest.” Unless she wanted to launch a Dungeons & Dragons campaign, I was going to be no help with any questing. Besides, what would I possibly have that she couldn’t find with magic?

She made a large circle with her fingers and peered through it at me. “Last year, Wyatt ran a special on these gooey berry cookies—I can’t remember the name—and he swore they were an adaptation from a family secret.”

“I—the blackberry cobbler cookies?” I guessed, and she nodded. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t have the recipe.”

“I don’t want the recipe.” She shook her head, lowering her hands to make an X. “I would like for you to persuade him to make them year-round.”

“Oh . . . okay, I’ll see what I can do,” I said, swapping bemused glances with my sister. All it took was the ever-so-slight widening of Harlow’s eyes and we stepped several paces toward the door in tandem. “Thanks again, Diana. If I survive the week, I owe you any drink at the café, on the house.”

“I make a mean iced wild-berry latte,” Harlow added just before the door closed behind us.

20

Wyatt

Iran through the woods all night, hunting deer and howling at the moon, getting out my feral rage in the way only my wolf form would allow. And still, my mind echoed with only one word: Willow.

Four years.

Four whole years.

Everything building to this breaking point.

My head was aching, and every muscle in my body was sore, but somehow, I’d survived the first shift after so long. I knew I’d been testing the limits of what was even possible. Ramona’s sigil had stopped the change, but it hadn’t contained all of the angst that built and built every full moon, especially as I’d grown closer to Willow.