Page 9 of In Her Own Rite

“Are you heading to your place?” he asks. “Otherwise we can walk together.” His family lives in afikarignot too far from the studio apartment I rent in town.

“Oh, no. I’m eating with Emerson and herfikatonight. I’ll go see if she’s still at the shop.Aftnu’kut.”

We wave goodbye and I walk towards the apothecary. The shop lights are off, but I see a glow coming from the curtain separating the storefront from the workshop behind. As I walk through the front door, the bell tinkles behind me.

“Hey. Em?” I call out. I hear nothing in reply, but the smell of whatever she’s making back there hits me like a ton of bricks. Citrus, beeswax, something like chamomile…

“Em?” I call again, and walk behind the counter, pulling the curtain to the workshop to the side.

She’s alone, standing in front of a row of clean metal tins with her headphones on, carefully pouring some kind of golden mixture into each one. I walk around to come up beside her, not wanting to startle her if she can’t hear me. But she’s so focused that, even when I move my hand in her peripheral vision, she doesn’t look up.

“Em,” I say loudly, but she’s still pouring.

“Em.” I wave again, then reach out to lightly touch her shoulder. Instantly she gasps and nearly drops the jug she’s holding. I reach out to steady her hands.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” At the look in her eyes and the rapid rise and fall of her chest, I feel my inner wolf grow agitated. She sets the jug down and reaches up to remove her headset.

“Heij. Sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was in the zone.” She smiles apologetically, and my gut twists.

“No worries,” I say. “I was just heading back to thefikarigand I wanted to see if you needed a ride.”

“Is it dinner already?” Her brow furrows as she looks down at her wrist. She’s not wearing her watch, and at the realization she looks around, scanning the table. For the first time I look down at what she’s making.

“What’s all this?”

“Oh, it’s for you. For your rite, I mean. I want to make sure we’re prepared.”

“Em.” I grin. “If you think we’re gonna needthismuch healing salve, then you have no idea how hard I’ve been training.”

“It’s all I can do, you know? To help.”

“Hey, relax,” I say. “Don’t be so worried. I’m gonna be fine.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulder in what’s meant to be a reassuring hug. But the second I do, something in the air shifts. The smell of whatever she spent all day making was enough to mask her scent until now, but as soon as her body is too close, I canfeelher, the edge of her heat brimming just under the surface. I drop my arm like I’ve been burned, and turn my body to look at literally anything else.

“Oh hey, your watch,” I say, my voice coming out surprisingly raw. I pick it up from where it was hiding behind a mixing bowl and return it to her open hand without touching this skin.

“Thanks,” he says, her voice light. Unaffected. It kills me. “And thanks for stopping by to get me. I’m on my bike today, so I don’t need a ride.”

Takkagaayu. I don’t think I can handle being under her when she’s this close to her heat.

Em never shifts—I’ve only seen it once in my life, on a day I try not to let myself think about. The islands are made for shifters, so Em being functionally human makes for some complicated logistics when getting around. Typically when we’re moving as a pack, I let her ride on my back so she can keep up. The rest of the time, she takes her bike. Thank the ancestors she has it with her today, honestly.

She closes up shop as I wait outside. Once Em mounts her blue bike, I remove my clothes and shove them in my bag so I can shift. She looks away as I change, and I hand her my bag to hold onto as we ride out. Then my body snaps forward into my wolf form, and we head for thefikarig.

It’sa full house when we arrive. I shift back and snap on my clothes on the porch, and I can already hear laughter coming from inside the house. After Em locks up her bike and leads me through the front door, we’re hit immediately by a wave of light and sound, and the smell of rich, heavy food.

“Heij, piu,” Saga says, walking into the hall and spotting Em. “Et welkommit,Kieran. Lovely to have you over for dinner.” She gives me a barely-perceptible wink, as if I don’t basically live here.

“Takka,” I thank her. It smells like venison and something else—bread? Rosemary? I look over Saga’s shoulder at the dining room table, where Gabe is carrying a tray of freshly-baked rolls from the kitchen. I can practically feel my stomach flip with hunger.

“You must be starving after this morning,” Saga says. “I’m pretty sure Gabe finished all our leftovers after the workout you gave him today.”

“Sounds about right,” I say, eyeing the bread.

“You see that, Emerson? He’s practically looking through me.”

Em hangs up her coat and smiles up at me, and my stupid wolf curls up happily at the sight. Saga gestures towards the table and we follow, walking to the dining room with her coming up behind.

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