Page 115 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

Charlotte grins. “I want to see it when it’s done.”

Peaches waves a hand. “Give me another week. I’ve got the main part finished, just need to add the border. I figured I’d do something moon-themed, since, you know, wolves and all.”

My heart squeezes. “That’s perfect.”

Peaches winks. “I know.”

I glance toward the front of the room, searching for Colt, and find him by the projector, crouched low as he fiddles with the ancient thing. He’s surrounded by kids, all of them watching with wide-eyed fascination as he mutters under his breath, tweaking the dials, adjusting the reels. His hands are steady, deft, the same hands that spent months proving himself, earning back what he almost lost. Earningme.

And he has.God, has he.

As if he can sense me looking, Colt lifts his head, his blue eyes finding mine across the room. A slow smile tugs at his lips, and my stomach does a little flip, same as it always does when he looks at me like that—like I’m his whole world. Peaches nudges me, smirking.

“Where can I get one?” she asks.

I laugh. “What?”

“Someone who looks at me like that.”

“Well…given that he was a bounty hunter, I’m not sure if you reallywantmy advice,” I tease.

I look back as Colt stands, dusting off his hands, and makes his way toward me.

“What are you up to?” I ask as he reaches for my hand.

His grin turns secretive. “C’mon, angel. Just trust me.”

He helps me up, his palm warm against mine, and leads me toward the front of the room. The den gathers around us, murmuring in curiosity as Colt sits me down in a chair near the projector. I glance up at him, brow furrowing, but he just squeezes my hand before stepping away, heading toward the back of the room where the light switches are.

“Alright, everybody,” he calls out. “Keep your eyes on the ceiling.”

Then he flips the switch.

Darkness swallows the room. A few murmurs ripple through the crowd—soft, uncertain. Someone hushes a whispering child, a chair scrapes against the wooden floor, the low creak of shifting bodies fills the air.

And then?—

Stars.

A thousand tiny pinpricks of light burst across the ceiling, constellations unfurling in slow, mesmerizing movement, stretching from beam to beam. They shift and swirl, a great cosmic tide drawing them across the rafters. The galaxies bloom, nebulas breathing, the vastness of the universe contained within these four walls.

A hush falls over the den, stunned silence giving way to wonder.

I hear it in the way breath catches, in the soft rustle of bodies leaning back in their seats to take it in, in the awed whisper of one of the children, voice barely above a breath—“Look at the stars.”

And they do.

They look.

All of them.

Even Frankie, even Reyes, even Will, who shifts where he stands against the wall, the tension that never seems to leave his shoulders easing just slightly.

Even my parents.

My mom sits near the hearth, her hands clasped over her chest, her expression softened in the way it always gets when she’s looking at the kinds of beautiful things she knew before the Convergence–things she never thought she would see again. Beside her, Dad tilts his head back, arms crossed over his broad chest, and I can practically see the pride there…pride for Colt. River lets his teenage boy swagger drop for a second, and Kate actually stops gossiping with her friends for a second.

And then there’s Lucy.

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