Page 122 of The Cuddle Clause
We kept walking, our shoulders brushing every now and then. It wasn’t intentional, but each time it happened, thetracker’s numbers spiked sharply, like the damn thing was trying to prove a point.
“Is it working yet?” she asked, nodding toward the device.
I glanced down. Another spike. The glow brightened for a beat, holding steady until she stepped closer, her arm brushing mine again.
I tried to play it off, tucking the tracker closer to my side. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” She arched an eyebrow. “That’s very scientific.”
I shrugged, aiming for casual. “I don’t want to jinx it.”
Her smile was still there, teasing at the corners. I glanced at the tracker, then back at her. “Although… we could test it further.”
Before she could ask how, I slid an arm around her waist and pulled her in, fitting her against me like she’d always belonged there. The tracker’s glow brightened in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t care about the numbers anymore.
I kissed her slowly, unhurriedly. Not a question, not a claim—just something real. The world went quiet except for the faint hum of the wards and the steady rhythm of her breathing against me.
The tension I carried in my shoulders, my jaw, my chest—gone. My mind wasn’t a scattered mess of what-ifs and pack politics. Just her. The shape of her mouth, the warmth of her body, the way the night didn’t feel so heavy with her in it.
Connected. At peace. Regulated in a way I couldn’t fake, no matter how hard I’d tried before.
When I finally pulled back, I kept her close, my forehead resting against hers.
“Pretty sure it’s working,” I said quietly.
I heard him before I saw him. Lucien’s boots crunched through the damp grass, his stride loose like he was just outfor a midnight stroll. But when he stepped into the glow of the tracker, his eyes sharpened, zeroing in on the numbers.
He stopped beside me, folding his arms. “Well? Are we winning, or am I here to drink away my disappointment?”
I tilted the display toward him. “It’s been holding steady in the high range since she got here.”
The numbers pulsed bright and sure, like they’d finally decided to show up for work.
Lucien’s gaze flicked between the tracker and Maggie, then back to me. His usual smug mask cracked, giving way to something I’d only seen a handful of times—pure, unfiltered giddiness.
“You’ve done it, cousin,” he said, voice warm and almost reverent.
Before I could step back, he pulled me into a hug. Not the half-assed, back-thumping kind men gave when they were trying to look like they didn’t care. It was full-on, arms-wrapped, borderline clingy. I froze, my brain short-circuiting, then awkwardly patted him on the back like he was an overly affectionate golden retriever.
He pulled away grinning, already turning toward the tree line like the wards might light up in neon just to confirm it. “Do you feel that? The shift? It’s alive again. Oh, this is going to work.”
I glanced at Maggie. She was watching us with an amused, knowing little smile that made my chest feel too tight. And yeah, I felt it too.
The rest of the pack came in slowly, two or three at a time, the crunch of boots or paws and low murmurs carrying across the clearing. I recognized some faces instantly—wolves I’d grown up with, run patrols with, fought beside. Others I hadn’t interacted with in years, pulled back to the border tonight either out of curiosity or because Lucien had made it very clear they didn’t have a choice.
Some hung at the edges, arms crossed, assessing. A few were already talking in low, tentative tones, eyes darting to the wards like they were waiting to see fireworks.
Lucien moved through the growing crowd like he’d been born for it, all charm and quick hands on shoulders, the kind of grin that made people lean in. But I knew the truth—he was still buzzing from the tracker readings, holding himself together with that showman polish so no one would see how close he was to cracking wide open.
I stepped toward the firepit. It wasn’t lit yet, but the stacked wood was waiting for the right moment. The tracker hung loosely at my side, its soft glow brushing my knuckles.
When the noise quieted, I didn’t try to stand taller or project like Lucien did. I just spoke.
“There’s no expectation tonight,” I said. My voice was steady, but I let it stay low, like we were already in on something together. “Nothing to prove, nothing to perform. No posturing. Just try to connect with each other. Have a real conversation. Walk the border if you want. Share food, share wine. Build something that actually matters to you.”
I looked around at the faces in the crowd, some guarded, some curious, some softening.
“I think the magic wants unity,” I said. “So let’s give it unity. Real unity. Not the kind we pretend to have for a ceremony. The kind we feel when we remember we actually belong to each other.”
