Page 64 of My Hexed Honeymoon

All of the werewolves besides Diego look at me awkwardly, as if they weren’t sure how to break the news.

No, they weren’t sure if I was in on the betrayal.

Even though they don’t know me and have no idea what we’ve been through these past five days, it still hurts.

“Yes,” says Sasquatch slowly, studying me with intense, amber-hued eyes as if they’re the only lie detector he needs. “It appears the vampires have teamed up with the Oldenwilde and Ironwood Covens.”

Of course she had a double-crossing backup plan.

My mother. The woman who never saw me as anything more than a puppet and pawn for her legacy. She forced me to marry a werewolf, only to team up with the vampires who nearly killed him.

Diego’s jaw tightens, the barely healed skin of his face pulling with the motion. “Not surprising, but it proves we need to act quickly. I need our best soldiers to gather their weapons and prepare for battle. Alert the generals that there will be a briefing in the courtyard next to the armory in thirty minutes.”

From there, we rush home to shower and repack our bags.

“I’ve never been in a battle,” I say, looking over my few possessions and having no clue what’ll be useful. “Only witnessed a few from the sidelines.”

Diego pauses to examine my two sets of clothes and a box of granola bars before pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. “You’ll be with me, by my side the entire time. I’ve got you.”

I nod, and I believe that he’ll do everything in his power to keep me safe.

But I’ve also seen how destructive and deadly Andromeda can be. And now she has the support of the vampires, who also have the Blood Loom.

I’m not sure how they plan to use it, but if we don’t stop them now…

The shudder I tried to stop overtakes my spine anyway.

“There’s more to the loom than they let on,” I say aloud, not bothering to face Diego because he’s constantly moving. “They said it amplified their magic, but it’s more like its own power source. I don’t know how to explain it; I just know whatever they have planned, it’ll be devastating to us all.”

“Ready?” Diego asks, stretching out his hand.

My feet are blistered, I’m bruised and sore from hiking for days, and we’re about to enter a battle that has the potential to turn into full-out war. I’ll never be ready.

But I take my husband’s hand, letting him tow me out the door and down the front steps of his cabin.

Ourcabin, even if I didn’t get to stay long enough for it to feel that way.

Stop with the downer thoughts. You’re acting like you’ll never return.

I attempt to swallow past the lump in my throat three different times before giving up.

Then I’m standing in a courtyard with the alpha of the Bridgewater Pack, opposite Conall, Tyrese, the hugely pregnant Nissa who’s surely not going into battle, and three burly werewolves I don’t know.

Distrust laces every look aimed my way.

As much as I want to remain steady and claim what they think doesn’t matter—hello, we’re going to war!—it frays my nerves and leaves me on edge.

It’s as if they’re waiting for me to break free of Diego and set their homes ablaze.

Which is a bad example, because I did do that very thing, even if only in a vision.

But I’m here, joining their side, ready to help ensure that doesn’t happen. Doesn’t that count for something?

The generals appear to be having a facial hair competition, and while they’d all lose to Sasquatch, one of them has salt-and-pepper mutton chops, the other a long goatee that skims his protruding belly, and the third wears a beard so bushy it makes me think he wants people to know he’s a werewolf.

They also all hate me already.

As Diego catches them up and details a plan, I’m the target of many glares and sneers—and as I learned the night of the ax throwing contest, these werewolves have excellent aim.

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