Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted novel Chapter 447

Chapter 447: Ava: Spicing it Up

The mood in Wolf’s Landing is strange over the next few days. Magister Orion has taken over Pip’s care, but she’s refusing to talk. The other Fae seem to hate her, which is strange considering Magister Orion’s polite deference to the child—though it makes sense when I remember they aren’t fond of the Fae King.

Lisa doesn’t have any more situations where she wanders off, and Kellan is personally leading the scouts in search of the Mad Prince’s presence. Aside from a dead, bloodless human two hours south, there’s nothing to find.

While most of the wolves are ignorant to the issues surrounding Lisa, they’ve adapted to having a new Fae in our midst. Everyone’s getting used to the strange events that seem prominent in my life, and the Fae have endeared themselves to a good portion of our shifters after their help in rebuilding the hospital.

Having Lucas back also boosts the morale of our pack, as it always does. It’s as if the dream-eater’s attack never happened. Everyone’s moved on, but the peace is uneasy.

The mattress creaks as I shift for the hundredth time tonight, punching my pillow into submission. Not that it helps. My mind races with too many thoughts, each one more urgent than the last.

Lucas’s arm drapes over my side, heavy and warm. His steady breathing tickles my neck, and I envy how peacefully he sleeps.

Can’t sleep? Selene’s voice whispers.

"No." I stare at the wall, counting the shadows cast by moonlight through our window. "Too much happening."

You should rest. Tomorrow—

"I know."

Tomorrow Clayton arrives. Tomorrow we need to figure out what’s wrong with Lisa. Tomorrow we need to deal with Pip. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

The dream-eater still lies unconscious in our custody. No one knows what to do with it. And somewhere out there, the Mad Prince lurks. And we haven’t even touched the issues of the New Order and our lives moving forward. Sometimes, it would be nice to be a pack of ostriches instead of wolves.

Lucas shifts again, pulling me closer. His nose nuzzles my hair, and for a moment, I think he’s awake. But his breathing remains deep and even.

Your thoughts are too loud, Grimoire complains.

"Then stop listening to them."

The shadows on the wall blur as my eyes water from exhaustion. I should sleep. I need to sleep. But every time I close my eyes, I see Ivy’s face. I imagine what it must have felt like, being consumed by that thing. Did she know what was happening? Did she suffer?

Stop. This path leads nowhere good. You need sleep.

Lucas’ arm tightens around me, and this time I know he’s awake. He doesn’t speak, just holds me closer, his chest pressed against my back.

I trace my fingers along his arm, following the familiar contours of muscle and sinew. His skin is hot against mine, a reminder of the fire that burns within all wolves. All wolves except me.

"Sleep," he murmurs into my hair.

"I’m trying."

His thumb strokes my hip in slow circles. "No, you’re thinking. There’s a difference."

The moonlight shifts, casting new shadows on the wall. I watch them dance, trying to empty my mind. Lucas’ steady heartbeat thrums against my back, a rhythm that usually lulls me to sleep. Tonight, though, even that isn’t enough.

His hand finds mine, intertwining our fingers. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He doesn’t need to. The bond between us pulses.

"Need help falling asleep?" Lucas’ voice rumbles against my neck, his breath warm on my skin.

A soft laugh escapes me. "That isn’t a sleeping aid."

"No?" His lips brush my shoulder. "Always works for me."

"That’s because you’re the one who falls asleep right after."

His chest vibrates with silent laughter. "Not true."

"Really?" I turn in his arms to face him. Even in the darkness, his golden eyes catch what little moonlight filters through our window. "Remember last week?" Or was it two weeks ago?

"I was tired."

"You snored."

"Wolves don’t snore."

"You do." My fingers trace the stubble along his jaw. "Like a chainsaw."

His hand slides up my back. "You’re making that up."

If you two are quite finished, Grimoire grumbles, some of us are trying to rest.

I wouldn’t have to if you’d sleep.