Page 11 of A Castle of Broken Memories

The guilt his statement conjured must have shown on my face, because he held up a hand. “Jack’s leaving came out of nowhere. You did what you had to do to get through it, same as all of us. No one blames you for needing space.”

I glanced at Sean, whose gaze was fixed firmly on the lush carpet underfoot. Shame mixed with the guilt already souring my stomach. Never again. Never again would I let something as pointless as heartbreak hurt the people around me. For once, I was going to be the hero instead of the villain.

“Well, I’m here now, and someone up there needs me,” I stated. “So Noah will just have to deal with it.”

Lawrence chuckled, and his eyes lit with a tender light. “You've grown into quite the woman, Mariana. I would have been proud to claim you as family.” He glanced at Sean. “And you're absolutely certain you're not interested in taking a mate?”

I chuckled. “A hundred percent positive. Sorry.”

He sighed. “Ah well. If you hear of any lady werewolves on the outside looking for mates, be sure to send them our way.”

Sean rolled his eyes behind his dad's back, making a face.

“Again, my apologies,” I said with barely restrained laughter. “But I'm afraid a female werewolf is only born every few decades—the alpha for each new generation.” I grimaced. “The only other un-bonded one is five years old and busy driving her dads up a wall.”

“Damn.” Lawrence turned and patted Sean's shoulder. “Sorry, son.”

“I'll try to recover,” Sean deadpanned.

I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth to hide my grin.

“I'd be more than happy to assist with that.” Tenebris fluttered his lashes with exaggerated innocence.

Lawrence spared him a brief look of confusion. “Right. Well. I should probably begin making the rounds if you wish to meet with the council tonight. Please, make yourselves at home while you wait. You'll spend the night here as our guests, of course.”

I glanced around the room, the myriad of paintings poking at all the wounds that should have stopped hurting years ago. Would the rest of the house do the same? I thought of Jack's room and the window I'd grown so fond of sneaking through. The collection of wooden figurines that covered his shelves, each creature carved by his steady hand. The tree house we'd built at the edge of the forest, ominous fog rolling underneath as we giggled in our fort. The embers of adventure kindling in our childish hearts.

The memories shouldn't hurt this much. I'd been with dozens of men and women since Jack. I'd severed myself from this village and everything that ever connected us. He'd chosen to leave, and I'd made myself move on.

“Of course.” I forced my lips into a smile. “That'd be lovely.”

I'd overcome these memories if it killed me.

7

Lawrence wasted no time in rounding up the council, and we were escorted to the village meeting hall before the sun had a chance to set. The other four members were already seated around the main table, watching us enter with marked interest. I searched my memory for their names, pulling them up one face at a time.

Mary Müller, the village historian. She'd once chased me out of her yard with a broom after catching me and Jack climbing her favorite tree. Claimed it'd been planted by her great-great-grandfather and wasn't meant to be clambered on by hooligans. Her gray-and-black streaked hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her long, red nails drummed the gleaming oak tabletop as she peered over horn-rimmed glasses.

Gareth Fischer, the village butcher. He'd always given me the juiciest cuts of meat to bring back to Abuela while joking about how she needed to keep her strength up. I'm fairly certain they were hooking up (despite the fact Gareth was at least twenty years younger than her.) His mouth stretched in a grin while he leaned back in his chair, black shirt straining over impossibly muscled, tattooed arms, and his pale blue eyes twinkled when they met mine.

Lotte Lang, one of the resident witches. She'd been the one to teach me how to channel my magic through brush work. I'd struggled to cast the spells written in Abuela’s books, and Lotte had seen the frustration building up inside me. I'd spent many a winter morning in her shop, practicing my magic until Jack's grinning face appeared in the window, promising an afternoon of mischief and fun. Now her wrinkled hands clapped in front of her mouth at the sight of me, her hazel eyes misting with emotion that had my own throat growing a touch thick.

It cleared, however, when the fourth member stood, broad shoulders pulled back and lips curved in a wondrous smile while he greeted us. Or greeted me rather, as his gaze never left my face. “Welcome.”

My jaw hinged open at the familiar timbre. “Noah Kraus? Is that you?” Gone was the skinny teenager with his face covered in spots, replaced by what I can only describe as an Adonis. Had Lawrence not told me he was on the council, I doubt I would have made the connection at all.

“In the flesh,” he replied, moving around the table. He scooped me up in his arms, lifting me off the floor as he hugged me. “Mariana Cabrera,” he murmured, nose brushing my hair when he set me down. “It's been far too long.”

“And yet the years seem to have treated you well.” I pulled back far enough to get a thorough look at him. Silky dark hair, pale skin, cheekbones you could cut yourself on, and a physique that begged to be undressed. “You look amazing.” A hint of pink crept into his cheeks, and I smiled. Now, there's the Noah I remember.

The awkward shyness that would have once gone along with the blush, however, was gone, and he lifted my hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss against the back of it. “A compliment from a goddess. I'll take it.”

Smooth. I pulled my hand back, smile wavering. I wasn't sure how I felt about this updated version of my childhood friend who used to stammer and stutter. I'd liked that stutter. I wonder what Jack would think of this new-and-improved Noah? Wait, no. Why should I care what Jack thought about anything? Noah was the one who'd stayed, bringing me flowers every day after Jack left until I'd absconded to the hilltop, soaking Lyall's shoulders with my tears until there weren't any left to fall.

A throat cleared behind us, and Tenebris stuck his hand out, an amused smirk on his face. “I'm Mari's friend, Tenebris, and this here is Calum, a member of her pack. Nice to meet you, Noah.” His voice lifted in a sing-songy lilt when he said Noah's name, and I sighed at the inevitable teasing I'd have to endure later.

Noah blinked but recovered quickly. “Any friend of Mariana's is a friend of mine.” He shook Tenebris's outstretched hand before turning to Calum and doing the same. “Please”—he gestured to the table—“have a seat. I know we're all curious to find out why we've been gathered here tonight.”