Chapter 46: Soon

Chapter 46 Lenora I flinch and close my eyes as Cameron tries to shift. The fur sprouts—dark, thick, powerful—and then the claws. But the sound it makes, gods, it’s painful. It’s not the smooth, effortless transformation I’m used to seeing. It’s like his body is at war with itself. Bones strain, skin ripples, muscle jerks under the pressure of something ancient trying to wake up. Right now, he looks like what he said the first time—some kind of horror movie wolfman. Big, twisted, half-shifted, stuck between forms. His eyes are still human but burning brighter, a strange gold flickering in the edges. His teeth are a little too sharp. The fur’s only on parts of him. His breathing is labored. Then, with a frustrated growl, he gives up. The fur disappears, sucked back beneath his skin. The claws retreat. He collapses backwards onto the sand, glaring at the sky like it personally offended him. "Don’t worry," I say, crouching beside him and brushing some hair out of his eyes. "You’ll get the hang of it soon." "Soon?" he mutters. "I nearly coughed up a lung." Then—rude—he scoops up a handful of sand and tosses it straight at me. It hits my shoulder and I gasp. "Excuse you—!" But he’s already laughing, full-on laughing. Not the forced kind he does sometimes. A real one. The kind that shows his dimple and makes his shoulders shake. I can’t even be mad. I laugh too. And then he pulls me down by the wrist, sudden and warm, and kisses me. It’s soft. Deep. There’s salt on his lips and heat in his palm. Since our conversation that night, it’s like something unspoken cracked wide open between us. Some heavy wall he was carrying has finally fallen. He flips us, and now I’m in the sand, underneath him. His hand rests against the dip of my waist like it belongs there, and his nose brushes mine. "I missed kissing you," he murmurs. "Even though it’s only been a few hours." "Hours?" I tease. "You act like you’ve been starved." He dips down again and kisses the corner of my mouth, trailing it slowly toward my jaw. "I have." The bond pulses, warm and buzzing, full of desire. But also comfort. And safety. And something terrifyingly close to... love. I don’t say it yet. He’s not ready for that word, and I won’t rush him. But I feel it. And I think—just maybe—so does he. "You’re getting more annoying," I whisper as he nuzzles my neck. "I know," he replies, grinning. "It’s your fault for making me happy." And somehow... I can’t argue with that. *** Eamon I watch them from a distance—Lenora and Cameron—tangled together in the sun, kissing like the world isn’t burning at the edges. It’s a rare thing, seeing her like this. Free. Open. Unburdened by duty or pride or the heavy weight of being my daughter. They laugh, rolling through the grass, half-playful, half-hungry, like wolves teasing the edge of something deeper. I exhale, the breath dragging a little more than usual in my chest. The pain in my ribs has grown sharper these past few nights. My wolf—my ever-loyal companion—is flickering. I can feel him slipping. We both know the end is near. But that’s all right. See that, Thalia? Our girl’s okay. She doesn’t need me anymore. I smile faintly, speaking to the wind like it might carry my voice to wherever my mate waits for me. You’d like him, I think. You’d roll your eyes at his stubbornness, but you’d approve. Eventually. I start toward them. My limbs are heavier than they used to be, but I’m still steady. Still me. "I’d rather not experience the conception of my grandchild in real time," I call out, kicking a pebble their way. They jolt apart, reluctantly untangling, eyes sheepish. Lenora glares at me without real heat. Cameron flushes a little, running a hand through his hair, but I catch the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t realize it yet, but the wolf is creeping into him. Quietly. Naturally. He’s already different. The first few days here, he was all awkward modesty—holding towels like shields, trying not to get caught staring at my daughter when he thought I wasn’t looking. But just yesterday, he strolled in from the woods completely naked, scratched up and half-covered in dirt, grumbling about shifting problems like it was just another Tuesday. No panic. No shame. Just irritation. He’s becoming one of us. And Lenora... well, she’s always been ahead of her time. He thinks he’s making the decisions. That he’s choosing this life, this bond, her. But I see the way she steers him—gently, expertly, like a seasoned rider guiding a wild horse. One nudge here. A push there. She reads him like a story she’s already memorized. It’s almost unfair, really. It reminds me of Thalia. Everyone always assumed I was the dominant one in our bond. The Alpha. The decision-maker. But the truth? She had me wrapped around her finger before I even knew it. I used to think I was the one pulling the strings. Turns out, I was just dancing to her rhythm. I see it now, like a mirror held to the past. Lenora is her mother’s daughter in every way that matters—sharp, kind, steady in chaos. And Cameron... poor bastard doesn’t stand a chance. They rise, brushing grass and leaves off their clothes, and I watch them quietly. She glances over her shoulder, gives me that crooked little grin, the same one Thalia used to give me when she was up to something. Shameless, the both of them. If she were here, Thalia would nudge me in the ribs and say, "Ain’t all wolves?" And I’d mutter about propriety, and she’d roll her eyes and kiss my cheek. I miss her. It’s not just the ache in my bones or the weariness in my muscles that tells me time is short. It’s the way the world sounds quieter. The way my senses dull by the day. My wolf is pulling back from the world, curling up inside me, ready to sleep for good. So am I. I’m tired now. I remain standing for a while, staring into the distance, into the trees where Thalia and I once danced under moonlight. My fingers curl briefly, aching to feel her hand in mine one more time. Soon, I think. Soon, my love.