Chapter 20

Dahlia.

The night was silent and cold, like the universe had accidentally left the freezer door open. This was the first time my husband and I were riding in the same car—our first date, if you could call an eerie midnight drive that. As he turned the wheel, I caught myself staring at him. He was ridiculously handsome, and watching his muscles flex as he maneuvered the car was like a free front-row seat to a live action movie. Who knew turning a wheel could look this... scandalous?

We were both dressed in black, like a couple auditioning for a funeral-themed fashion show. I wore a simple black dress with doll shoes because, apparently, my husband thought heels were too rebellious for the occasion. He had personally picked out my clothes, which was equal parts sweet and infuriating.

He brought the car to a stop, turned to me, and caught me gawking. "What's up with you? Why are you looking at me like that? You horny or what?" he asked, deadpan.

My cheeks turned into flaming tomatoes as I quickly averted my gaze, staring out the window like the streetlights held the secrets of the universe. But, of course, he wasn't letting me off that easily. He turned off the car, reached over, and tilted my face back toward him with that annoyingly confident smirk of his.

"Don't mess with my head like last time," he warned, his expression dark and teasing.

I smirked right back, biting my lower lip, silently challenging him with an oh, I absolutely will energy.

He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing mine. "Don't go disobedient on me. There are consequences for that," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. My brain short-circuited, my body went molten, and all I could think was, Who even needs heating in this weather?

As we stepped out of the car, I immediately regretted not wearing a jacket. The forest air was biting, and I hugged myself dramatically like a poor damsel trapped in a gothic novel. My husband, leading the way with his usual unbothered stride, stopped and glanced back, noticing my shivers.

Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I turned to thank him, but he was already looking away, trying to act all cool. His cologne lingered on the fabric, and as oversized as the jacket was, it felt like a warm embrace.

I clutched the jacket tightly, a goofy smile creeping onto my face as I thought, This is what romance novels are made of, right? Except for the creepy coffin stuff.

Speaking of creepy, we approached a group of men standing around a coffin, slicing their palms and dripping blood into it like they were in some supernatural blood donor club. I was distracted by the whole scene when I spotted Victoria, looking every bit the tragic young widow in her lace veil.

And there I was, bundled in my husband's jacket, trying to figure out why I was smiling like an idiot. Why am I smiling? This is ridiculous. But deep down, I couldn't help but think, This oversized jacket might just be my new favorite thing.

As I glanced ahead, I spotted him—the ridiculously handsome guy I'd danced with at the wedding. His eyes met mine, and there it was: that billion-dollar smile that could make even the most stoic nun blush. I never did get his name, but who needed names when someone smiled at you like that?

His smile faded, though, when his eyes shifted to something—or someone—behind me. Oh, right. My husband. Cue the tension-filled stare-off.

The coffin was being lowered into the ground as the crowd solemnly watched. Soil was being shoveled over it, but before I could even process the moment, Rath grabbed my wrist like we were in an action movie. He pulled me out of the forest so fast I practically had to jog to keep up.

"Hey, slow down! My legs aren't built for Olympic sprints!" I thought. Moments like this make me wish I could speak and express this to him as I was struggling to match his long strides.

He ignored me, his grip firm as we burst out of the woods. The second we reached the car, he shoved open the door and practically dropped me into the seat.

I plopped down, panting like I'd just run a marathon. "What's the rush? Did the coffin bite you or something?" I signed.

He didn't answer, of course. He can't understand sign. Instead, he started the car with all the drama of a man who thinks he's in a spy thriller, then sped off like he was auditioning for Fast & Furious: Lycan Edition.

Fuming, I crossed my arms and glared out the window. The passing scenery blurred into streaks of green and gray, but the warmth of his jacket kept me from fully committing to my anger. Curse this stupid, oversized, cozy jacket.

Before I knew it, my eyelids grew heavy, and the rhythmic hum of the engine lulled me into a sleepy haze. Fine, Rath. You win this round. But don't think I'm forgetting how you turned me into a human kite back there.

~~~~~~

Rath.

As I stopped at the traffic light, I snuck a glance at her. There she was, blissfully dozing off, her head tilted slightly to the side like someone who didn't just narrowly avoid becoming a werewolf snack. Lucky for her, I had enough common sense to get her out of there before things got... furry.

The distant howls behind us confirmed I'd made the right call. Nothing says "bad idea" like bringing a human to a full-moon werewolf gathering. Rookie mistake, but hey, we all have our moments.

When I finally pulled into the driveway, I killed the engine and looked over at her again. She was still asleep, completely oblivious to how close she'd been to becoming a chew toy. I reached out to wake her, but the way she looked—so peaceful, snuggled in my jacket—made me pause.

With a resigned sigh, I got out of the car and walked around to her side. Carefully, I scooped her up like some brooding antihero in a cheesy romance. As I kicked the car door shut, Billie opened the front door, a smirk plastered on her face.

"Carrying her now? What's next, feeding her grapes?" she teased.

"Shut up, Billie," I grumbled, marching past her.

I made it up the stairs to her room, where I laid her down gently on the bed. She was so light, it was like carrying a feather. Seriously, did she even eat? Maybe I should start sneaking snacks into her bag.

As I turned to leave, she twitched in her sleep, clutching the sheets like they were a lifeline. Her breathing sped up, and I could hear her heart pounding—she was having a nightmare. Great. Just what I needed.

With a defeated groan, I kicked off my shoes and slid onto the bed beside her. I pulled her close, resting her head on my chest. "It's just a bad dream," I whispered, hoping my voice would somehow soothe her. To my surprise, it worked. Her breathing slowed, and she relaxed against me.

Why was I doing this? I hated humans. Hated them. Yet here I was, playing bedtime hero. I sighed, gently laying her back down before calling for Billie.

She appeared in the corner like the creepy shadow-dweller she is. "Change her into her nightdress," I instructed.

"Yes, sir," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

I left the room, but not without a final glance at the human.

---

Later, Billie found me in my study, her expression unusually serious. "I did what you asked," she began. "I looked into her childhood, her parents, everything. There's nothing. No records, no data, no trace of them from the cult. It's like she just... appeared."

I frowned, leaning forward. "And the ritual? What did you find?"

"Nothing. No condition, no abnormalities. It's like she's perfectly normal—except she's not. There's no medical reason for her being deaf or mute."

I sat back, the pieces of the puzzle swirling in my mind. "So, what? She just woke up one day and decided not to hear or speak?"

Billie shrugged. "Maybe she's a mystery wrapped in a mystery stuffed inside a human. Or maybe someone's covering something up."

Whatever the answer, one thing was clear: this human was a bigger headache than I'd bargained for.

Billie paused at the door, her gaze lingering as if weighing whether to drop one more revelation. "And one more thing," she added, her tone laced with intrigue. "During the ritual, I felt... something. A presence. It was faint, but it felt ancient. Powerful."

I arched a brow, my curiosity piqued. "Ancient? Like, dusty-books-and-cryptic-prophecies ancient or let's-go-summon-an-eldritch-horror ancient?"

She shot me a look that said, Why not both? "I don't know, but it was unlike anything I've encountered. Whatever she is—or was—it's not ordinary. She's not just some random human girl."

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. "Great. Just when I thought things couldn't get more complicated. First, I save her from becoming wolf chow, and now she's possibly harboring some ancient mojo? Perfect."

Billie smirked, clearly enjoying my frustration. "You wanted a challenge, Master."

"Not this kind of challenge," I muttered. "Why can't I just deal with normal problems? Like taxes or traffic?"

She snorted. "Because you're you."

"Fantastic." I leaned back in my chair, letting the silence stretch for a moment. "Keep digging. If there's a hidden truth, I want to know it before it decides to bite me in the ass. Literally or figuratively."

Billie nodded, her expression turning serious. "Understood." With that, she slipped out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I stared at the empty doorway, a sinking feeling settling in my chest. Dahlia wasn't just a mystery—she was a storm on the horizon. And if Billie was right, that storm was heading straight for me.