Page 3 of Shadow's End

“And this court of justice? Are you going to give me an address or are we just leaving it to chance and guesswork?”

“She will know where to meet. She has always known.”

With that, I was sent tumbling out of her dream and back into reality.

And woke, gasping and shaking, wrapped in arms that were warm and familiar.Aiden. He didn’t say anything. He knew well enough there was no waking me while the dreams held me in their grip, and little point in offering meaningless words of comfort after.

I drew in a shuddering breath, then turned and pressed my cheek against his bare chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart and drawing in the warm, musky scent of him, which was tinged with just the faintest hint of fresh paint—the latter coming more from the bedroom’s air than his skin. This house—which he’d inherited from his grandfather—was in the midst of a complete internal renovation. In fact, this bedroom and its en suite were the only really useable rooms in the house, and even in here the walls still needed their final coat of paint and there was no furniture aside from this boat-sized bed. Aiden had been doing the renovations in his spare time over the last few months—without telling me, of course, because hey, why would he? It wasn’t like he’d intended this place to be our home once we’d married or anything…

The thought had me smiling. Alpha werewolves weren’t big on sharing emotions or intentions until absolutely necessary, and it had taken me splitting up with him and then heading to Canberra for a couple of weeks before he finally admitted to himself and to me just how deeply he loved me.

Of course, having made the decision to fully include me in his entire life, not just on the periphery, he basically went in all guns blazing. He’d not only asked me to marry him, but had confronted his alpha bitch of a mother and then his whole damn pack, demanding I be allowed to live within the reservation.

The resulting vote had fallen in our favor, and said bitch was no longer the other pack alpha. While it was a position that normally went to the alpha’s mate, I was a witch rather than a wolf and couldn’t realistically speak on their behalf or vote at the reservation’s council meetings. I had, however, been allowed to pick a suitable proxy.

I’d chosen his sister, Ciara.

His mom had hated that. And me even more.

It would certainly make living within the pack’s compound very interesting over the next couple of months, especially when there were factions within the five different bloodlines making up the O’Connor pack who’d sided with Karleen when it came to my presence amongst them.

As my breathing evened out, Aiden kissed the top of my head and then said, in a voice that was rumbly and warm, “Would you like a coffee? Or maybe a hot chocolate?”

“The latter is always appreciated.” I brushed the sweaty strands of hair from my face and scanned his sharp but lovely features. Faint shadows lined his blue eyes, but that was due more to the long hours we’d been spending working on this place than my dreams keeping him awake. Still … I grimaced and added, “Sorry for waking you so damn early.”

“I accepted long ago that my life with you was never going to be boring.” A smile tugged at his luscious lips. “As for sleep, well, you’re pregnant with our daughter, so I’d best get used to having none of it.”

I laughed. “I’d rather spend the next seven and a half months stocking up on sleep, thank you very much.”

“The dreams obviously didn’t getthatmemo.”

No, they fucking didn’t.

He swung his legs off the bed and padded naked toward the main room, where we’d set up a camp kitchen. I took a moment to admire the sheer perfection of the man—like all wolves, he was built lean but powerful, with a V-shaped torso that drew the eye down to a butt made for jeans, and lovely long legs that could run all day through a forest or fully support a woman when her back was pressed against the wall, her legs were wrapped around his waist, and she was riding him hard and fast…

Desire stirred anew, and there was a part of me—a big, will-never-get-enough-of-the-man part—that wanted to drag him back into bed and make love until the last wisps of the dream were erased from my mind.

But the clock was counting down, and we couldn’t afford to waste a minute of it, let alone several hours. I sighed, reached for my phone, and called Maelle. The call rang for several seconds, then flipped over to her message service.

“Maelle, this is Lizzie Grace. I need to talk to you urgently. Please ring me back ASAP.” I paused. “If I don’t hear from you in half an hour, I’m driving over to see you.”

I waited a few more heartbeats to see if she picked up. Her nightclub had yet to reopen, but I had no doubt she’d be there, either marshalling the workers or feeding from her menagerie of “kept” men and women. Unless she was in the middle of one such session, she should have answered. That she hadn’t worried the hell out of me.

I dropped my phone onto the bed, then pushed the sheet off my legs and padded out to the longhouse’s large main living room. An oversized stone chimney dominated the center of the room, separating what would eventually be our kitchen-diner from the living area. There were four rooms on the other side of the building—three bedrooms and what would be a bathroom. The bedrooms had all been plastered but needed new flooring and painting, while the bathroom, like the kitchen, was little more than a shell.

Aiden had lit the two-burner camp stove we were using until our kitchen was installed and was pouring milk into a pot. The glow coming from the embers in the nearby fireplace warmed his skin and highlighted the silver in his dark golden hair. The O’Connors were silver wolves, though their coloring could range from complete silver to a muddy blond. These days I actually looked more like a wolf than a witch—hair wise anyway, because I was not, and never would be, built lean—after full immersion in the wellspring had turned my once crimson-colored hair to full silver. Aside from one lone stubborn streak in my fringe, anyway.

I trailed my fingers across his butt cheeks, and the scent of desire instantly stung the air.

“Tease,” he said.

“Says the master of that art.”

I opened the bread and popped a couple of slices into the toaster. It might be three in the morning, but I was hungry—a seemingly constant state for me these days. Being pregnant had certainly increased my appetite, though thankfully it hadn’t yet affected my waistline. But it was early days yet.

Amusement danced through his eyes. “I didn’t hear any complaints earlier this evening.”

“And likely will never. That doesn’t alter the fact.”

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