Page 86 of The Patron Saint of Timber Hollow

My boys and this big beautiful house.

My mother doesn't say anything, but Saint must have gotten some sort of answer because I feel it when the tension leaves his spine, and his gaze is soft, not sharp when he tilts my face back to place a tender kiss on my lips.

"Dessert?" Saint asks, and I nod, breaking the embrace before going back to sit next to Jay.

Immediately, the Alpha is pulling me in for a liplock, making my mom mutter something under her breath.

"So you did it," Aggie says, looking at me with a tender smile. "That makes my heart happy."

My aunt's eyes sparkle with unshed tears, and I know she's thinking of Rhea and Jeeran.

32

Wolf Moon

Like Samhain, the Wolf moon has… an interesting effect on us Direwolves. We’re much more blended with the beast in our souls.

My wolf doesn’t hover around my consciousness; she’s justhere,in my blood, in my jaws, and in my eyes.

We are one on this night, under the full Wolf Moon.

All the holiday decorations are still up in the town, but that will slowly change after tonight’s Pack run. The tradition in The Hollow is to leave everything until after Wolf Moon. Like a town wide superstition, no one takes down decorations before today. It's almost as if everyone thinks you invite bad luck into your home otherwise.

I can’t say Ibelievein that, but then again… Our decorations are still up at the Cabin.

As Jay, Saint, and I walk through the little festival, my hand captured by Jay and Saint’s arm thrown over my shoulders, I take in the glittering lights, and the mouth-watering aromas from all of the food trucks of the festival. Memories of festivals past, where I’d walk hand in hand with my dad, bundled in eighteen different layers because of the bitter cold, run through my mind.

Sam is around here somewhere, using Marcus as a connection for an introduction to the Rodeo crowd. She spied their booth almost as soon as we’d arrived. Apparently, Marcus was a hand there before his job on the oil rigger.

I haven’t seen Dante all day, though I know he borrowed Saint’s Jeep since the orange monstrosity was conspicuously missing. Ivy said she was choosing to stay home today, and I can’t help the sneaking suspicion that the two things are connected.

“Are you hungry, Tiny?”

“I could eat, yeah. What are my options?”

“There are french fries on the other end,” Saint begins listing vendors, knowing the locations of the various trucks like the back of his hand. “Fried dough and hot chocolate over there, kettle korn by the lemonade stand. And then, of course, you have your Philly cheesesteaks, your hot dog and hamburger options over there,oh, and the Pizza is by the curly fries.”

“What strikes your fancy, Darlin’?” Jay asks, caressing the back of my hand with his thumb.

“Fried dough and hot chocolate,” I respond, letting Saint steer me along. He gives a handful of people high-fives as we move through the crowd. Thankfully, the bitter cold has let up for a few days, and by the looks of it, almost the entire Pack is out, enjoying the festival and mild weather.

“What time is the Pack run, Alpha?” I ask, trying to contain my smirk as we walk along. Since I discovered how riled up Jay gets when his title comes out of my mouth, I fully abuse that power at every opportunity. And he knows it.

Regardless of thetensionbetween the three of us, I still just look at the glowing lights on the lamp posts and trees lining the streets and along the storefronts as my boys and I walk to the food truck.

People in California never decorated this much or left it upnearlyas long. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the traditions of my town, my Pack.

“Full dark. After everything lately, I thought waiting until we had full cover would be best. Who knows how many people will end up bipedal tonight.” Jay answers my question easily, giving me a dark look for using his title.

“I could name a few people I’d like to see bipedal tonight,” I murmur as we join the line for fried dough.

“You cannot say things like that out loud, Tiny,” Saint groans, quickly adjusting the front of his jeans.

“He has a point, Gorgeous.” Jay agrees in that dark voice.

I laugh,loudly.

By the time it’s our turn in line, the aroma coming from this truck has spiked my appetite, and now I feel as if I could put away severaltraysworth of the golden crisp, pillowy dough covered in cinnamon and powdered sugar.