Page 20 of Wanderlust With Wolves

And if there’s anything listening, Iprayit listens to her, too.

I shift the conversation, steering us back to decorations and festival antics, adding humor where I can?—

Because even here, in this beautiful, enchanted town, surrounded by warmth and promise, some fears never truly leave you.

And abandonment?

That’s one of them.

Chapter Nine

THE COLOR RED

Ronan

The rowdinessof the wulver bar is exactly what I need.

I don’t have to participate. Don’t have to be the loudest or the wildest.

I can just sit back, melt into the background, and be surrounded by kin.

The job is done—the northern boundary has been expanded, the patrols secured. The night is for drinking, unwinding, reveling in the simple pleasure of completing something hard and knowing the territory is safe.

Vane, of course, is in the thick of it all.

I barely acknowledge him when he drops into the seat across from me, a fresh mug of ale in hand, his eyes already glinting with mischief.

“You really planning to sit here all night?” he drawls.

I grunt, stretching my legs out beneath the table. “Wouldn’t be the worst way to spend it.”

Vane snorts. “So, not partaking in the Sweetheart Wilds Festival?”

I lift my mug, unbothered. “I’ll wait for the party to finish.”

Then—before I can stop myself?—

“And then I’ll go check on Maya.”

Vane grins like I just gave him the best gossip of the year. “Yeah? That so?”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t start.”

He smirks, taking a slow sip of ale. “Funny, though. Luna mentioned Maya’salreadygetting involved.”

A beat.

My fingers tighten instinctively around my mug. “What?”

“She’s picking out ribbons right now,” Vane says, utterly too casual.

A violent, possessive need surges through me so fast it steals my breath.

I shoot to my feet, chair scraping against the wood.

Already, my nose is searching for her scent, my instincts roaring to the surface.

No one.

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