Page 8 of In Her Own Rite

“Are you, like, horny all the time?”

“Maren!” I say, and it comes out like a little yelp.Agaayu.Mainlanders and their openness.

“What? I haven’t had, like, true werewolf heat yet or whatever, but I spent 27 years as a normal human woman before I came here. I know how hormones work. Come on, you can talk to me. What’s it like?”

My whole face goes red, and I gesture wordlessly for the almond oils we strained earlier. Maren grabs them and walks over, and I measure out one-third cup of each and dump them in.

After a minute, she nudges my arm.

“Come on. It’s gonna happen to me, too, right? So why can’t I know?”

I swallow.

“Yeah, it’s… like what you said,” I say finally. “It happens once a year, for about a week. During that time your sex drive is really high. But in the weeks before, the feeling already builds up, like… like an energy, growing in your body. You notice other people more, in a physical way.”

My mind flashes to Kieran. His broad shoulders and strong arms. His stupid-hot abs. At the very thought, I feel a rush of desire flood through my body and force myself to focus on the wax in front of me.

“Cool. So isthatthe thing I’m smelling when I’m near you? What is it, like citrus and…” she cocks her head.

“No, that’s the cream I made,” I say awkwardly. “It’s supposed to mask the scent. Anyone who’s pack can tell when you’re going into heat, so I try to cover it a little.”

“Anyone can tell? Isn’t that embarrassing?”

“I mean, yeah. But most pack members didn’t grow up in America, so they don’t ask about your sex life quite so openly.” I give her a look, and she laughs.

“But yeah, it’s a little weird,” I add. “Once you’re mated, you and your partner take a vacation during your heat so you’re not around other people. Sometimes the unmated women take a solo trip, just to lay low for a few days.”

“So why not you? Free vacation, right? You could go to the house on the north island,” she says, grinning. We took Maren to thefika’s summer house for Fire Week last summer.

I shake my head. “I want to be here for Kieran’s rite. And, I guess more than that, I want to be hereafterhis rite, in case he gets hurt.”

“Good for you,” she says, smiling. “You’re such a good friend.”

Right. Friends.

I look down at the pot before me, where the cacao butter and coconut oil are slowly blending together for my scent-masking cream. I unscrew the bergamot essential oil and add one, two, three drops, then do the same for the grapefruit and cedarwood. As it mixes together, I feel the warmth from the steam on my face and tilt my hand to let another two drops fall in.

This year, I need all the cover I can get.

4

KIERAN

Gabe and I finish training around one. We’ve been going easier this week at Seb’s insistence, so I can save my strength for the night of my rite. Which blows, because the scent of Em this morning set me off in a bad way, and I need to take the edge off. After the training session, I shower and get dressed, then head to the woodshop to work off the last of my energy.

My workshop is at the heart of town, a few streets over from the forest and Saga’s apothecary. When I get there, Caspar’s at the scroll saw, cutting something for a dining set. He has his ear protectors on, so I give him a nod and head to the loft to work on some of the new designs. Once I’m upstairs, I set my bag down and put on my own hearing protectors to work in silence.

I pull out the folder of yesterday’s sketches. My most recent project is a wedding arch for a mainland couple who’s been on my waiting list for over a year. Apparently the brides are both fans of my work, and they’re letting me design whatever I want. I spent yesterday on the shape of the arch, and today I start designing the details: grapes carved into the upper arches, half-open pomegranates along the sides. Sparrows and doves carved into the support beams, flying upwards.

I love carving and the physical part of carpentry, but designing is hard for me. Whenever I get stuck, I remind myself what I’m doing this for: saving up so that Em and the rest of the gang can all get our own place. The same reason I’m doing my rite.

I start designing the first dove, and within ten minutes, I’m lost to the world. It’s only when Caspar appears next to my desk that I look up.

“Hey, I’m heading out,” he says as I remove my ear protectors. “Do you want me to close up shop, or are you staying late?”

“Man, I lost track of time.” I look out the window to see a dark sky, then glance at my watch—five-thirty. Em and the others will be heading back to thefikarigsoon for dinner. “Nah, I’ll head out with you. Thanks for checking in.”

I pack up my stuff while Caspar makes sure our machinery is unplugged and the power switches are off. Grabbing my jacket, I head downstairs and step onto the street, into the cool night air. He follows and turns off the lights, locking the front door.

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