Page 24 of Magical Midlife Conclave

“You’ve seen our lineup. Sue and Tristan will remain in their placements. You will form a line behind the Ivy House crew, putting them in the middle of a triangle. Jess and I will be at the head of that triangle. The basajaunak, who are taller, will gather behind you.”

“And then the Ivy House crew won’t need a line because they’ll be corralled.” Nessa gave Jessie a thumbs-up. “Voilà.”

“Is it too late for regrets, or…” Aljoe lifted his brow at them.

Nessa nodded slowly. “Sadly, yes. Sorry, it’s like the Hotel California, and you’ve already checked in. You’re here for good.” She snapped her fingers. “Speaking of, when do your sisters come to get lessons on their swagger? Maybe we can induct your whole family.”

5

Aurora

She saw the back of Nessa’s house through the trees.

Oh, thank God.

She pushed through the pain, the intense fatigue and the wooziness of her mind. She had a regal form of a Bengal tiger that was destroyed by her pink tongue lolling out of her mouth like a dog. Alphas were supposed to maintain their composure at all costs. Right now, she was failing miserably.

Instead of going around, she cut through the little hole in the hedge that became a lot bigger. She’d just have to make it up to Nessa by volunteering her time to help garden. She didn’t have the energy to go around.

She’d probably have to make it up to Sebastian, too. This whole area was crowded with wards and magic and other things she didn’t understand and couldn’t see. Jessie had tried to make them move into Ivy House for their own protection, but he’d talked her into letting him jam the place full of magic. Given the basajaunak roamed these woods and kept tabs on things, Jessie had relented.

That was before Momar had devised a way to hide his people from the basajaunak. Aurora assumed another discussion about it was just around the corner.

She trotted in a zigzag across the grass. The back door was always locked unless Nessa was in the garden or sunbathing on the grass. Unfortunately, Nessa was doing neither of those things.

Aurora bumped against the wall along the side of the house, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. Add that to the list of things she’d have to remedy.

More zigzags along the little path beside the potted plants led her to the gate in the wooden fence. She stared up at the metal clasp securing it for a moment before looking straight ahead at the wood. She had to shift.

She’d been dreading this.

Taking a deep breath, she regained her human form and then fell forward against the wood. Metal clanked as the latch held against her weight. She straightened up, nearly cried as she lifted her hand to release the latch, and then nearly cried again when she remembered she had to pull instead of push.

Tomorrow she’d look back on this and call herself a weakling. A baby. A whiner. She’d forget how much her muscles screamed, how utterly depleted she was, and make light of the stinging, throbbing, aching wounds all over her bruised body. She’d get up, and she’d do it all over again.

She didn’t bother shutting the gate behind her. Maybe the earth would tilt on its axis and do it for her.

Around the front corner of the house, her knee released too early and she slammed against the wood. Her other knee gave up entirely and she spilled onto the hard concrete.

“Jesus, Aurora.”

She recognized that voice. Damn. Of all the people to see her like this—not able to hold her own or maintain her decorum. Why the hell was he here?

“I just tripped, it’s nothing,” she mumbled.

She pushed up to her knees when a large, strong hand wrapped around her upper arm. Sue paused, and she could feel the barest of movement in his fingers, so subtle it was almost lost in her fatigue.

Exhaustion prevented her from being just as subtle and from refusing his help.

He hauled her straight up, not touching any other part of her body. It was out of respect, she knew, offering her the opportunity to regain her feet without accepting too much help. It was one of those times when she wished she weren’t an alpha, or even a shifter, maybe. Able to just call it like it was—she was drained and everything hurt like hell. She didn’t have the drive to go on.

Then again, if she weren’t a shifter, she’d be tired and in pain for a lot longer.

“Susan, how are you?” she said dryly, always somehow caught at her worst by this alpha-turned-beta. “Enjoying your day?”

His fingers slacked but didn’t release her.

“I’m good, thanks,” she said, because there was no way he’d read it in her body language. Her mind was telling her body to do things, but it ignored her. Instead, her hips shimmied, her legs trembled, and her upper body pitched the opposite way.