Page 16 of Howls & Harvest

“My cabin’s just over there,” he shouts over the growing wind. “We can wait out the storm.”

We sprint across the increasingly muddy ground as rain lashes our faces. Lightning flashes, illuminating the path ahead in stark white. By the time we reach Ronan’s cabin, about a quarter-mile from the Luminous Lagoon, we’re both soaked to the bone.

He turns the doorknob, his claws clicking against the metal, and the door swings open. Clearly, locking doors isn’t a big concern here. I’m relieved when we tumble inside, dripping onto the wooden floor. The interior is dim, lit only by the gray light filtering through rain-streaked windows.

“Quite a storm,” I say, wringing water from my hair. “Is it always like this?”

Ronan shakes himself, sending droplets flying. “Not usually. This feels different. More intense than a natural storm, so I’m guessing Grizelda’s pregnancy sickness is making her magic glitch again.” He moves to the fireplace, arranging logs with practiced ease. “You should get out of those wet clothes. The bathroom’s through there, so feel free to have a warm shower. I’ll find you something dry to wear.”

I nod gratefully and squelch my way to the bathroom. It’s small but cozy, with a claw-foot tub and standing shower attachment and a mirror that seems to ripple like water when I look at it too long. I peel off my sodden clothes, hanging them over the towel rod before stepping into a hot shower. I keep it brief, knowing he’s waiting to warm up too.

I’m just turning off the water when there’s a soft knock at the door. “I’ve got some clothes for you,” he says. “I’ll leave them outside.”

“Thanks,” I say, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel. When I peek out, I find a neatly folded flannel shirt and a pair of sweatpants. The shirt smells like pine and something uniquely Ronan. I slip it on, the soft fabric enveloping me like a warm hug. I skip the sweatpants, which are laughably too big, even with a drawstring waist.

When I emerge from the bathroom, the cabin is transformed. A fire crackles merrily in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Ronan has changed into dry clothes as well, but his fur is still slightly damp and tousled. I guess he decided not to wait for the shower.

“Feel better?” he asks, glancing up from where he’s arranging blankets on the couch.

I nod, padding over to join him. “Much. Thanks for the shirt.” I look down at the navy and kelly-green plaid shirt, running my fingers across the hem as it strikes me that he’s recently worn this. Wearing his shirt is almost like having his arms around me.

“It suits you,” he says with a small smile. “Hungry? I’ve got some vegetable barley soup warming on the stove.”

My stomach growls in response, and we both laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, moving to the kitchen area.

I take the opportunity to look around the cabin. It’s a single room, with the kitchen area to one side and a large bed tucked into an alcove on the other. Bookshelves line the walls, filledwith an eclectic mix of titles. A few framed photos catch my eye—Ronan with what must be his family since they’re all lycans.

“This is a nice place,” I say as he returns with two steaming bowls. “Very...you.”

He hands me a bowl and settles beside me on the couch. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it’s home.”

We eat in companionable silence for a while, accompanied only by the sounds of the crackling fire and the storm raging outside. The soup is hearty and delicious, warming me from the inside out. “So,” I say, setting aside my empty bowl. “How long do these magical storms usually last?”

He frowns slightly. “It’s hard to say.” A particularly loud crack of thunder makes me jump. “Don’t worry. We’re safe here.”

I look down at our joined hands, my much smaller one nearly disappearing in his large, furred grip. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Earlier, at the lagoon...when the water changed color. What did that mean to you?”

He looks at me intently. “It meant...hope. Possibility. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

My heart starts galloping. “What do you feel now?”

He cups my cheek, his touch impossibly gentle for someone so strong. “I—”

Another crash of thunder, loud enough to rattle the windows, interrupts him. We both jump, and the moment is broken. He clears his throat, dropping his hand. “I should check the windows and make sure everything’s secure.”

I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. As he moves around the cabin, I curl up on the couch. The storm rages outside, wind howling and rain lashing against the windows. I wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders, watching Ronan. Hismovements are graceful despite his large frame, with each action purposeful and efficient.

“I think we’re all set,” he says, returning to the couch. “The storm doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon.”

I nod, shifting to make room for him. “It’s extreme. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He settles beside me, radiating warmth even through my blanket. “Magical storms can be unpredictable. They tap into the energy of the land itself.”

“That sounds...powerful,” I say, struggling to wrap my mind around the concept. “Is it dangerous?”