bigger than when she had first tried on dresses. “I can’t be growing that fast. Do I look pregnant?”
“You’ve changed sizes since prom. That’s all. There .” Gwyn finally secured the hook and sighed.
Rylie twisted and turned to study herself in the mirror. Bekah had already done her hair in loose curls down her back, with smoky eye shadow and pink lip gloss. All of that looked good. And the dress was gorgeous, too—it had demi-sleeves, a slash of red at the waist, and a heart-shaped cutout at the small of her back. But all Rylie could think about was the shape of her belly.
“You don’t look pregnant,” Gwyn said, noticing her paranoia. Moonlight filtering through the gaps in the tent shimmered in her eyes. She fidgeted with Rylie’s sleeve, trying to smooth the satin flat.
“Why are you crying?” Rylie asked.
Gwyn picked up her shotgun and started loading it with silver bullets. “It’s just—you look beautiful, babe. I wish your dad was here to see the way you look tonight.”
Rylie swallowed around the lump in her throat. It was a horrible thing to think, but she had always been kind of glad that he died before she became a werewolf. He never knew that his baby girl had become a killing machine and leader of a monstrous race. And it also meant that he couldn’t walk her down the aisle in front of enemies.
Her aunt jacked a round into the chamber. Propped the gun against her shoulder. “You ready?”
Rylie closed her eyes and imagined everyone waiting for her to step outside. Werewolves on one side. Plainclothes Union army on the other. Scott Whyte waiting to officiate the wedding. And who knew how many men loyal to Cain would be hiding in the crowd?
The processional music started to play. Whether or not Rylie was ready, it was time to walk down the aisle.
She picked up the bouquet and used the blossoms to conceal the claws that had already replaced her fingernails. Her inner wolf was stirring. It was afraid, and ready for a fight.
Gwyn cradled the shotgun in her arm and draped her wrap over it.
Rylie took a deep breath, nodded once, and stepped outside for the wedding.
T WELVE
Forever Hold Your Peace
Abel had been running for hours, but he just wasn’t fast enough. The hills and plains and farms were long and unending. Rylie was still too many miles away from him.
He was out of his mind with adrenaline and fatigue. He couldn’t feel his bare feet, couldn’t feel the muscles in his legs, couldn’t feel his hands or nose or cheeks because of the cold wind blowing past him. All he could think about was her —and the wolf’s overpowering need to be with Rylie.
Abel couldn’t let Cain get to her first. She was his mate. He needed to protect her.
So he pushed through the exhaustion, pushed through the snow, and kept running.
The hills turned into a blur around him. Daylight faded into evening. He only knew that he was crossing a highway when the thin snow under his feet suddenly turned to pavement.
A car skidded in front of him. Abel barely dodged it in him.
He glimpsed the driver as the vehicle passed—it was Cain, gripping the wheel in both hands with fire in his eyes as he tore down the road. He didn’t even notice that he had almost hit someone.
Abel stopped to look around. The stretch of road was familiar. He recognized the sign for the Batemans’ farm, which was just down the road from the Gresham Ranch.
He was almost there. And so was Cain.
The melodious tones of a three piece orchestra drifted through the air, and Rylie felt like she floated down the aisle on a sea of music. She was hyper-aware of the people watching her—Levi in the back row, and Stephanie behind him; all the men in black suits were on the other side. Their staring eyes drove straight through her skin and made her gut cramp.
Her fingers tensed on Gwyn’s arm. She almost stopped walking. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered to her aunt.
“You’re going to be fine, pumpkin,”
“You’ve changed sizes since prom. That’s all. There .” Gwyn finally secured the hook and sighed.
Rylie twisted and turned to study herself in the mirror. Bekah had already done her hair in loose curls down her back, with smoky eye shadow and pink lip gloss. All of that looked good. And the dress was gorgeous, too—it had demi-sleeves, a slash of red at the waist, and a heart-shaped cutout at the small of her back. But all Rylie could think about was the shape of her belly.
“You don’t look pregnant,” Gwyn said, noticing her paranoia. Moonlight filtering through the gaps in the tent shimmered in her eyes. She fidgeted with Rylie’s sleeve, trying to smooth the satin flat.
“Why are you crying?” Rylie asked.
Gwyn picked up her shotgun and started loading it with silver bullets. “It’s just—you look beautiful, babe. I wish your dad was here to see the way you look tonight.”
Rylie swallowed around the lump in her throat. It was a horrible thing to think, but she had always been kind of glad that he died before she became a werewolf. He never knew that his baby girl had become a killing machine and leader of a monstrous race. And it also meant that he couldn’t walk her down the aisle in front of enemies.
Her aunt jacked a round into the chamber. Propped the gun against her shoulder. “You ready?”
Rylie closed her eyes and imagined everyone waiting for her to step outside. Werewolves on one side. Plainclothes Union army on the other. Scott Whyte waiting to officiate the wedding. And who knew how many men loyal to Cain would be hiding in the crowd?
The processional music started to play. Whether or not Rylie was ready, it was time to walk down the aisle.
She picked up the bouquet and used the blossoms to conceal the claws that had already replaced her fingernails. Her inner wolf was stirring. It was afraid, and ready for a fight.
Gwyn cradled the shotgun in her arm and draped her wrap over it.
Rylie took a deep breath, nodded once, and stepped outside for the wedding.
T WELVE
Forever Hold Your Peace
Abel had been running for hours, but he just wasn’t fast enough. The hills and plains and farms were long and unending. Rylie was still too many miles away from him.
He was out of his mind with adrenaline and fatigue. He couldn’t feel his bare feet, couldn’t feel the muscles in his legs, couldn’t feel his hands or nose or cheeks because of the cold wind blowing past him. All he could think about was her —and the wolf’s overpowering need to be with Rylie.
Abel couldn’t let Cain get to her first. She was his mate. He needed to protect her.
So he pushed through the exhaustion, pushed through the snow, and kept running.
The hills turned into a blur around him. Daylight faded into evening. He only knew that he was crossing a highway when the thin snow under his feet suddenly turned to pavement.
A car skidded in front of him. Abel barely dodged it in him.
He glimpsed the driver as the vehicle passed—it was Cain, gripping the wheel in both hands with fire in his eyes as he tore down the road. He didn’t even notice that he had almost hit someone.
Abel stopped to look around. The stretch of road was familiar. He recognized the sign for the Batemans’ farm, which was just down the road from the Gresham Ranch.
He was almost there. And so was Cain.
The melodious tones of a three piece orchestra drifted through the air, and Rylie felt like she floated down the aisle on a sea of music. She was hyper-aware of the people watching her—Levi in the back row, and Stephanie behind him; all the men in black suits were on the other side. Their staring eyes drove straight through her skin and made her gut cramp.
Her fingers tensed on Gwyn’s arm. She almost stopped walking. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered to her aunt.
“You’re going to be fine, pumpkin,”
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