Page 133 of Lavender and Honey

He runs a hand down my back, soothing, and I feel some of the tension ease away, leaving a strange kind of calm in its wake.

“Lucian will get the others,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ll be ready for them.”

I nod again, trying to let that calm sink in, trying to believe in it.

“What if it’s not enough?” I ask, the doubt slipping in before I can stop it. “What if they—”

He pulls back enough to look at me, his expression fierce in its certainty. “It will be. I promise.”

I want to say I believe him, want to show him that I’m as strong as he thinks I am, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I reach for his hand, hold it tightly, my lifeline in a storm I never thought I’d have to face.

“I’m scared,” I admit, and it feels good to say it, to let someone else know.

He wraps me up in his arms again, a protective cocoon. “I know,” he whispers, “but you’re not alone. You’re never alone now.”

I let myself relax into him, let myself need him the way I never dared to need anyone before. I want to stay like this, in this safe, warm bubble where nothing can touch us, but I know we need to prepare.

We break apart, reluctantly, and he gives me a quick, reassuring smile. “Come on,” he says, pulling me toward the pack room. “Let’s get ready to show them what we’re made of.”

I laugh, a nervous, breathless sound, but it feels good, feels right. “They’re going to regret coming here,” I say, trying on a little bravado of my own.

“They are,” he agrees, with that quiet certainty that makes me believe it.

We reach the pack room, and I sighed deeply, taking in all the mixed scentes. Elias bends to pick up one of his shirts, pulls it over his head, then looks at me with a soft, teasing smile. “We should probably get dressed,” he says. “For battle.”

I snort, but it’s fond, affectionate. “Is that what this is?” I ask, going over to the side where my bag was, gathering my clothes, trying to make sense of everything.

He nods, his eyes serious. “For you? For us? It’s worth fighting for.”

I pull my shirt on, suddenly shy, suddenly unsure. “Even if it gets ugly?” I ask.

He comes to me, tilts my chin up so I have to meet his eyes. “Especially then. We’ll get through this, Lydia. I promise. And then we can go back to what we were doing before all the drama.”

His grin is wicked, and I can’t help but grin back, the heaviness lifting, just a little. “I’m going to hold you to that,” I warn him, feeling lighter, braver.

“I hope you do,” he says, pulling me in for a quick kiss, eyes alight as he looked down at me. I try to stay in his embrace as I was still had the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

Soren comes in while we’re still getting ready, and I jump at the sight of him, embarrassed to be holding onto Elias like he’s the only thing keeping me together. He smiles, a little teasing, mostly kind. It’s okay, his eyes say. It’s okay to be scared. I wantto believe him. I want to believe all of them. It’s easier when I let myself.

He waits for me to get dressed, not saying much, just leaning against the doorframe with an easy confidence that makes me think maybe this isn't as dire as it seems. Maybe he knows something I don’t. Maybe I’m the only one who’s really afraid.

I slip my jeans on and try to smooth my hair, suddenly aware of how unraveled I must look. But neither of them seem to care, Elias still at my side, Soren watching us with a fondness that makes me blush.

“We ready to take them on?” he asks, like it’s no big deal. Like he’s asking if we’re ready for lunch, or a movie, or something else equally ordinary.

“Getting there,” Elias replies, his hand a reassuring weight on my back.

Soren crosses the room, and I don’t pull away this time, even when his arms come around both of us. Even when he kisses the top of my head and laughs.

“You’re doing better than you think,” he says, the warmth in his voice infectious. I want to believe him, and for a moment, I do. For a moment, I’m exactly what he sees, what they all see—stronger than I feel, braver than I am.

Soren’s phone buzzes in his pocket, a quick, vibrating hum, and I tense for half a second before I realize it’s not the call I’m dreading. He glances at the screen and then back at us, that easy smile still in place.

“Finn says it’s going to rain soon,” he reports, like the weather is our biggest problem. “Wants to make sure you’re dressed for it.”

I laugh, surprised by the sound, by the way it bubbles up in me, bright and unexpected.

“Seriously?” I ask, the panic giving way to amusement.

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