Page 126 of A Wolf in the Garden

“Watch out Ellie, here comes the boss.”

I roll my eyes at Sophia’s teasing, and she throws her head back in a loud laugh, her long canines on full display. She’s one of the four shifters that Kaito employs, and I’ve gotten used to her beautiful white wolf running around the vineyard over the past few weeks. I’m going to miss everyone when we all take the two week break for the Christmas and New Year period.

With the restaurant renovations complete, work has resumed on Lost Moon’s garden, and the first stage is almost finished. It still looks fairly raw — the plants need time to grow into maturity — but I can see how beautiful it’s going to be. Even the couple of weeks over the upcoming Christmas period will do wonders for allowing the plants to settle into their new home.

They’d settle faster with a little fae magic.

I push aside the thought. Despite being much more comfortable in my own skin than I was just a few months ago — I’ve even tied my hair in a ponytail today, ears on full display — I’m still not sure how much magic I want to use in a professional setting. I’ve decided to front-foot it though, and have sent enquiries to the professional organisations responsible for awards, asking them for their views on the use of non-human skills in the creation of gardens submitted for consideration.

I’ve been weeding one of the earliest beds we planted, and get to my feet now with a groan, removing my gloves so that I can wave to Van without scattering soil everywhere. He’s in his full business gear — perfectly tailored suit jacket and all — having flown in from the mainland five minutes ago. I can still hear the helicopter in the distance, on its way back to Auckland.

I no longer feel weird about Kaito’s crew seeing our public displays of affection — everyone here knows we’re mated, and none of them give a shit. It’s still a bit different when it comes to the human vineyard staff; the bite on my shoulder caused a fresh wave of gossip among the human employees on their return at the beginning of this week. I’d happened to be using the new vineyard bathroom two days ago when two of the waitresses had wandered in, their voices echoing as they continued their conversation about Van and I, oblivious to the fact that I was in the next stall over listening in to the whole thing. After hearing them say“I heard it has to happen mid-fuck!”and then a loud giggle followed by a“God, I’ve got to find myself some good wolf dick,”I decided to step out of the stall, their wide-eyed horror as they realised they weren’t alone slightly tempering my ire.

“Maybe you should save these conversations for somewhere outside of the work premises,”I’d told them quietly, meeting their eyes in the mirror as I washed my hands.“This is a public bathroom after all; I don’t think it’s a good look for staff to be talking about their employer’s penis within earshot of our patrons. Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell him, but FYI, there’s a lot more to wolves than just their dicks.”

Van jokes about being fetishised by humans sometimes, but I know the fact thateveryoneseems to mention knots as soon as you bring up wolves makes him feel uncomfortable. I hadn’t noticed it happening before Van walked back into my life, but now I feel like I hear it everywhere, our mating bites adding a new element to the whole thing.

There’s no humans present now, and I hum against Van’s lips as he bends to kiss me, his big hands lifting me off the ground in the process. There’s a few whoops and wolf whistles from the group — just typical banter — and Van is grinning as he sets me down on my feet again.

“Why are you all still here?” he asks loudly, making a show of looking at his watch. “It’s quarter past five on a sunny Thursday — go home already! You should all be at the beach right now!”

I see Kaito roll his eyes, but he begins coordinating the pack up. I’m pretty sure he’s grumbling about the fact that they’re supposed to be on until five-thirty, but no one else is complaining as they return their spades and other tools to the trailer attached to the vineyard’s quad bike, parked just outside the field. One of the young werecat apprentices begins to dig where I’ve marked out the area for the two featurepohutukawawith a muttered, “Thebosssaid we had to get them in the ground today,” nodding towards me, and Van intervenes with a shake of his head, holding his hand out for the spade.

“Ellie and I will take care of it. You head home. Seriously. I’ve got some things to discuss with my mate.”

Ten minutes later the last of them are trudging to their cars, all parked along the road that runs parallel to the garden area. I turn around to find Van stripping off his suit jacket, placing it carefully on the quad bike’s seat.

“Are you going to shift?”

He shakes his head, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves. “I’m going to dig these holes, and we’re going to plant thesepohutukawa.” He picks up the spade again, his white shirt straining across his broad back and huge biceps.

The metal blade makes a dull thunk as he spears the ground with it. We don’t need a huge hole for such young trees, and I’ve got no doubt that with his strength, he’s going to be done in only a few digs.

I can tell something is bothering him, and when he finishes the first hole I step forward, brushing back the lock of hair that’s hanging over his forehead. He closes his eyes, his head tilting to kiss the palm of my hand.

“I’m impressed, you didn’t even get a speck of dirt on your leather shoes.” He snorts at that, gold eyes opening, showing some sort of emotion that I can’t place. He’s not giving me anything through the bond, either. “What’s going on?” I ask quietly.

“I don’t want to have kids right now. I don’t want you to think that because ofthis, that I suddenly do. We’re sticking to our five year plan.”

I nod, even though I’m now thoroughly confused. “Okay… what has this got to do with digging holes?”

He moves onto the second spot, the spade slicing through grass and earth as he speaks. “You know Mom saw visions of us together… well, she had others. Of a girl who looked like me. Black hair, gold eyes, running between twopohutukawatrees in bloom, on a vineyard. Mom said she thought the visions were of Jenny, back when she had them ten years ago.”

A shiver runs down my spine at his words. I remember Bronte alluding to something, that night we called her after I unlocked my memory. “Did she talk to you about it again?”

I feel the moment Van’s block on the bond falters, grief, confusion, hope, and a sense ofsacrednessall filtering through to me. “Oh, Van.”

“She told me last week, after the fae ward. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner… I just needed time to process it. It’s our daughter she’s talking about. Our teenage daughter, running around here,happy.” The heavy thunk of the spade continues, another pile of dirt forming beside the second hole. “I saw these trees just now and… I don’t know… I just wanted us to be the ones to plant them. And I’m excited about this future, I really am.Ellie,we have a little girl… that’s… that’s amazing.” His last few words are barely a whisper before he chokes off, wiping his wet eyes with his forearm before continuing digging. “But at the same time, I’m devastated that it wasn’t Jenny, and I’m all torn up about it.”

I blink back my own tears, moving to him, smoothing a hand over his back, my other hand reaching for the spade. “Let me dig some of this, then, since it’s special.”

“I know I’m being over the top about this.”

I stand on the edge of the spade, using my weight to help push it further into the dirt. I don’t have the raw strength that Van has; what he’s done in a matter of minutes would have taken me three times as long, but I want to be a part of this. “You’re not being over the top at all, honey,” I say quietly, lifting the dirt out onto the pile, worms writhing as they’re exposed. One more spadeful and the hole will be deep enough for sure. “It’s important. Let’s plant these for Jenny, and for us, and for whoever is yet to come.”

Thepohutukawaare only waist-high right now, their buds mere days away from bursting into bright red blooms. They’re often calledNew Zealand’s Christmas tree, and to me summer doesn’t properly start until the beaches are all lined with trees full of flowers, the ground underneath carpeted red with the fallen needle-like stamens. I love these trees, which is why I chose them for the entrance to this garden. When fully grown they’ll form a natural archway here, and they’re hardy — you can stomp all over their gnarly roots that grow out of the ground and they’re fine — so there’s no issues with future foot traffic coming through. Once they’re mature enough they’re the perfect trees for climbing too. Van and I grew up climbing these trees together every summer.

I crouch next to the hole as Van brings over one of the plants, tearing apart the plastic grow bag it’s been living in. Together, we lower it into the hole, and then Van starts shovelling the soil back in around it.

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