Page 3 of Accidentally Wedded To A Werewolf

“Sobad. I know your mom’s a drama queen, but this time, she’s right on the?—”

The phone fuzzed out into static.

“Hector,” Luna said. “Babe?”

Nothing. The static grew louder and louder until Luna winced and stabbed the END CALL button.

“Oookay,” she said. “This is fine. Just gotta find a motel. Do they have motels in towns this tiny? They have to. Right?”

Her phone sat in the passenger seat, silent and useless on the subject of tiny town motels, or any motels for that matter. A quick inspection showed that she only had one bar of data and absolutely zero cell service.

“Great,” Luna muttered. She searched up MOTELS CLAW HAVEN. No hits. But therewasa place not far away.Musgrove Inn.It had one four-star rating saying the service was good and they had a wide range of dietary options for the mer reviewer, who was used to eating human food when he traveled. But the inn needed some touch-ups. Apparently, the owners had remodeled it themselves, and they werenotprofessional contractors.

“As long as it’s got a roof, four walls, and indoor heating, I’m down,” Luna declared.

She attached her phone to her dashboard holder and set off. It was only a few minutes away, but she wasn’t taking any chances in this weather.

She eyed the road as her glitchy dot crept closer and closer to the inn. Her wheels kept skidding against the snowy road, which was even worse now that she had things to crash into. She drove down a mainroad, catching glimpses of stores as she crawled past: a cafe, a bakery, a chocolate store, a florist, and a cute little bookstore. Claw Haven would probably be picturesque in the morning: a quaint town covered with snow. But right now, it was a seething hellish snowscape that Luna wanted nothing more than to escape. Hopefully, the roads will be clear enough to drive tomorrow. She didn’t want to be here any longer than she had to.

“Cliff Street,” Luna read aloud from her glitchy map. “Come on, Cliff Street.”

“In ten meters, turn right,” Google Maps said.

A tiny road sign glinted through the snow:Cliff Street.

Luna made a triumphant noise and turned.

Her car swerved again. Luna tried forcing it back into its lane, but it was too late. Her wheels locked, skidding helplessly off the road.

Luna yelled, pumping the brakes. Nothing worked. Her car veered off the road, pointing straight at a signpost.Welcome to Musgrove Inn.

“Wait!” Luna yelled as she barreled toward it. “Shit, wait!”

No use. Her car cracked into the signpost, breaking the wood in half before coming to a shuddering stop in the snowy parking lot.

“You have reached your destination,” Google Maps said calmly.

Two

“The roof’s gonna cave in,” Leo announced.

Oliver Musgrove sighed and looked up from the front desk. His six-year-old nephew was lying in the middle of the empty lobby, staring up at the ceiling.

“Nothing’s going to cave in,” Oliver told him, shuffling a stack of invoices. “Get out of the lobby. The guests don’t want to step over a kid to get to the front desk.”

“We don’t have guests,” Leo pointed out, not moving. He kicked his feet in the air, his light-up sneakers glinting. “Mr. Jackson says it’s gonna cave in, and hisjobis roofs.”

“His job isn’t justroofs,” Oliver said, scowling. “And Jackson needs to keep his nose out of our business.”

The inn wasfine. Sure, the roof leaked. The doors sometimes wobbled on their hinges. The pipes screeched when you turned on the hot faucet. But you put up with certain things in an old place like this as Oliver keptinsisting to the rest of his family, who were currently being useless in the guest common room while Oliver did paperwork.

Leo pushed himself up with a sigh, padding over to the front desk. Every step made his light-up sneakers glow even brighter. He cocked his head, listening to the sounds of the party. Leo was full wolf, his hearing just as keen as Oliver’s.

Oliver focused. He could hear every irritating noise through the twisting hallways: loud music, an aunt’s grating giggles. Somebody roared in laughter, someone else roared with the distinct tones of an orc. And underneath it all was Grandmother’s low tones, too muffled to make out. He wouldn’t be able to hear it at all if she wasn’t his family. Werewolf senses got even keener when it came to pack.

Leo rested his chin on the counter. “Are you coming to the party, Uncle Ollie?”

“No,” Oliver snapped. “I’m working.”

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