"What the fuck are you reading?"

I look up from the three books I have spread out on the cot in front of me. Heat rises on the back of my neck. My first instinct is to slam my palm down on the books and hide them, but this is my Brat.

"The 5 Love Languages, 100 Words of Affirmation Your Wife Needs to Hear, and Ili's journal from sixth grade," I say without meeting his eyes.

"Dude," Braxton snorts, his entire body shaking with silent laughter. I wait patiently until he sobers up enough to ask, "what do they say?"

"My language of love is acts of service. I did shit for that bitch all the time. The pack. It's what I do." The last of Braxton's laughter fades. He nods in encouragement, unsmiling. "Yours are..." I consult my notes, "receiving gifts and words of affirmation."

He immediately looks offended. "Hey! I don't need gifts!"

"It's also about giving gifts," I point out.

"I don't need gifts and I don't plan on winning Ili's love by buying her," Brax snaps.

"Yeah?" I look pointedly at the pile of gifts he keeps ordering for Ili, stacked precariously in one of the unfinished corners of the cabin. On his cot is a stuffed octopus that she gave to him. It still holds a faint scent of Ili. We fight over it sometimes.

I explain a little more, "Ili needs words of affirmation. You're good at that. I suck at words, Brat. I truly do."

He softens a little. "I disagree. You give us explanations all the time."

"About the pack. History. Politics. I'm not good with emotions."

"What about the bitch?" he asks pointedly.

I scoff. "She told me what to tell her. I would just agree with her own self-involved statements."

"You were dumb," Brax nods. "What does Ili's journal say?"

"I think she's an act of service type, too," I murmur. "And words of affirmation."

He stiffens. "She likes my gifts!" he protests. He's sent over a hundred things to Ili already.

"You go overboard."

"It's the Soltice, soon. Fuck you, Sean. She'll love my gifts," he says, but without any heat.

We lapse into silence; me, reading, and Brax wrapping gifts in shiny white paper with a defiant scowl on his face.

"What time is it?" I ask him.

"Almost time. Ten minutes."

My fingers start to tremble a little. I look over my notes. Braxton abandons his pile of gifts and starts to pace. Cracking his neck every so often and flexing his fingers as if he's about to go into battle.

When the phone rings I go still. It's Braxton's turn to answer it. The first ring isn't even over before he hits the button. "Hi, Doll," he blurts out. "I love you." We start every conversation with her like this. The first few conversations were so damn short that we learned to proclaim our love first.

"Hi, Brax," she replies. She sounds breathless.

"Training?" he asks casually. It's a sensitive subject that we all dance around. Ili is afraid of our reaction to her skating with the human boy, Will. We aren't angry. Jealous? Yes, but Brax and I know need to support our female, not tear her down even more.

"Mmhm. I have a competition in two weeks," she murmurs.

"On the Solstice, right?" Braxton asks her. He flings himself down on his cot and shoves his hand down his pants. Cretin.

"Mmhm. It's for the human holiday. It's nice," she says softly. It's been so fucking long since we saw her. Eight months. Two long months of these torturous phone calls, where we can hear her but not see her or smell her. It's driving us both crazy.

We've been told that she is healthier, happier. We can feel her emotions settling through the bond, her grief over her mother and sister softening, if not lessening. We sense her she-wolf, searching for us, but out of sight, always hiding from our wolves, loyal to her feet. We feel Ili missing us, but she still hasn't invited us up to rejoin her. These phone calls, every Tuesday and Thursday at six o'clock and Sundays at three, is all the time we have with her.

Iliana laughs and Braxton shudders in pleasure, "I'm helping Willa and Luna Lyri with their Solstice makeup. Lyri's mom, Elder Tabby, told me her daughter was a hopeless case."

I have logged every word she says. Braxton gets busy with his hands in his way, while I get busy my way. Sometimes I even jot her words down in my notebook verbatim. He works his dick in a frenzy and I work my pens.

I'm learning about her, even when she barely speaks. She loves skating, even when it frustrates her. I've noticed that she's more animated when she talks about other wolves than herself. She loves purple and doesn't like green unless it's a very dark color. She doesn't like gifts because she's truly humble and they embarrass her. The exception is the things Braxton sends her. She's not reluctant to take his gifts, which tells me she understands his need to give to her, even if it's just subconsciously.

"Elder Tabby has two daughters who are lunas, right?" Braxton encourages her. He's already wiping his cum off, eyes drowsy with happiness. He wipes his hands and tucks the octopus against his chest.

"Luna Penny is her younger daughter, and Elder Tabby is Tyler's mom, too." She laughs again, "Ty is better at makeup than his sisters. It's a good thing, because Willa and Innie are awful at makeup and Bailey can't even find the makeup aisle in the store!"

I shove away the spurt of jealousy I get at the reminder that Bailey and Conner are visiting my female for the Solstice when Brax and I aren't allowed to enter RustHowl. In my notebook, under hates green vegetables, loves tomatoes and fruit disguised as vegetables, i.e. pumpkin and sweet potatoes, I jot down in my notebook, good at makeup.

"Are you excited about the skating show?" Braxton asks her.

"Very!" she says excitedly. "It's going to be so gorgeous."

"Send us pictures?" Braxton begs. Yeah, give him some more material for his spank bank.

Holy shit. It's now or never. We have permission from Alpha In to ask Ili for this. I don't want pictures. It's just not enough, anymore.

"Angel-love," I move closer to the receiver. My wolf's tail wags furiously, tension riding his spine just like mine.

"Hi, Sean," she says, sounding shy but happy.

Words of Affirmation.

"I love you and miss you," I say first. Ili murmurs a soft, 'me, too.' My wolf paces, imitating the Brat's restless energy. "Angel. I wanted to ask you, and you can say 'no,' but... can we come watch you skate?" I ask her. The notebook in my hands is shaking.

Ili pauses. Braxton sits up, octopus forgotten, brown eyes wide on me. I hold my breath. "You want to watch me skate?" she asks, sounding cautious.

"If it's alright with you," I say. "I'd love to see you skate, Angel." I look down at my notes, be specific and sincere..."because I know you'll be so beautiful on the ice."

Braxton nudges me, panic in his eyes. "We have gifts to give you," he blurts out while I sweat, "for Solstice. Can we bring them to you, babydoll?"

"Can I..." she blows out her breath. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course," Brax and I say together. We both glare at each other. We've been speaking in unison too often lately.

Her soft giggle washes over me. "OK. I miss you and love you," she says quietly. She sounds a little shaken.

"Love you, too," we respond. The octopus comes flying at my head. I catch it as Iliana hangs up.

"Can we come to Sooolstiiice?" Braxton imitates me in a high, annoyingly squeaky voice. "Asshole. She's nervous!"

"But, not afraid," I point out. "And she misses us."

He falls back onto his cot. "We are going to Maine with Dad's unit in a few days."

"We should be back in time for the Solstice," I point out.

"But what if she says, 'no?'" he complains.

I shrug. "At least I asked."

Braxton frowns. After a minute he snaps, "give me back my puss."

"No."

—

I peel my legs off of the muddy ground carefully. My movements are almost agonizingly slow to prevent my fatigues from making suction noises as I propel myself forward.

It takes over an hour to make it into position. You would think the ground would be frozen in December in Maine, but no. It's been unseasonably warm, which means we're all slogging through the mud while it drizzles miserably on us.

Train. Hack. Occasionally join Orion or Dad's black-ops unit on another of these fruitless reconnaissance missions on the pack in Maine. Then we go back to our lonely cabin and fight over a stuffed octopus smaller than my hand. My octopus. I don't mind it smelling like Sean, why would I? But he's wearing away the glittery little blue suckers on my puss's arms. Greedy fucker.

"Time to move out," Dad's voice filters through the headset as clear as a bell.

I inhale deeply as we all move closer to the seemingly abandoned brick building. There's been no activity since we set up our posts yesterday. Satellite images have captured the occasional moving truck parked here, but very little otherwise.

It doesn't stink of witch until I'm almost to the rusting double doors. I hunker down at the edge of the forest, taking cover from any eyes on the inside.

"Witches," I mutter into my headset.

Sean slides into place a moment later, dark eyes glaring at the doors as if they personally offended him. "Confirmed," he says lowly.

"Fuck. Pull back," Dad says.

We both start to inch backward when the doors start to creak open. We both slam ourselves into the ground, flattening our profiles and huddling behind the scrub brush only a few feet from the doors.

Georgina steps out, wearing a pair of tight, light-colored blue jeans and a dark red top cropped to show an inch of skin. She doesn't shiver in the cold and a cruel smile curls at the corners of her red-painted lips.

I almost shit myself until I spot the minute differences. This Georgina is a little older. Her artfully-applied makeup can't hide the slight crow's feet at the corners of her eyes or the lines around her red-painted mouth.

"Beta," Sean mutters in a voice that is almost soundless next to me, "this may be Fiona."

"Dead Fiona?" Dad asks in surprise. "Georgina's mother?"

"Or a dead ringer," Sean mutters. His heartbeat next to mine is steady as anything. The appearance of Georgina's mother doesn't even make him flinch.

"Did you know she was alive?" I ask him. Silence crackles on the radios. Everyone heard my question.

"No," Sean confirms.

"I want this bitch in custody," Dad snaps through the com.

Fiona, or her look-alike, strolls over to garage doors. They're old-fashioned ones that need to be opened manually, but when she lifts they open noiselessly, unlike the double doors she walked out of.

The gaping hole left in the building by the open garage doors is like a personally-engraved invitation to my dad. He doesn't hesitate to give the order.

Sean and I rush the double doors while other members of the team rush to the garage. In the rear of the building, we know more of our wolves are entering the back of the building.

Everything is quiet except for one short-lived scream. Fiona, or whoever, is silenced almost immediately. As I follow Sean in, protecting his back, the lights in the building flicker on. It's empty, strewn with trash, with most of the interior walls and even the ceilings missing.

"Basement," Sean announces grimly. We meet the team led by Dad as we approach the basement door, following the scent of witches and the clean pathway to the innocuous-looking door.

When we pour through it and down the narrow stairs I keep expecting to hear gunfire erupt, but the unnerving silence of this dead place continues.

"Clear," a voice states.

"Is this just drugs? Goddess, why here?" another wolf asks.

Sean and I enter the basement. It's just as dark and worn as the rest of the building. Nothing much to speak of, except for what looks like a few thousand kilos of marijuana. It's not. There's something incredibly... witchy about this weed.

Sean groans and rubs his eyes as if he suddenly has a splitting headache. He whips off his face mask and runs a shuddering hand over his mouth. His body lurches as if he's about to spew. Knowing him, he will spew all over the evidence in this enclosed space.

"Clear out, Green," Dad barks, then gives me a nod, letting me know I can go with Sean. I grab Sean's shoulder and steer him back toward the stairs as he gags.

"That's the shit," he croaks as he's heading upstairs. "Tell Beta that it's what I've been given for years. It makes you stupid."

I relay the info to Dad as Sean stumbles up the stairs. Once at the top, he doesn't stop. He keeps walking until he's out of the building and yakking in the bushes we were hiding in just an hour ago.

I sit with Sean and wait, playing on my phone next to him. Now that the danger is over, adrenaline is leaving, leaving me feeling drained and bereft. My wolf slouches, missing his female and full-on pouting about it like a recalcitrant toddler. I watch through dazed eyes as Dad's unit moves in and out, emptying the storage, snapping orders.

Dad finds us later. "Well, pups, looks like Xander finally has an in with the Haven Coven."

"You're kidding," I croak, shocked and elated. "The coven in Connecticut?"

"And New York, Massachusetts, all over the north-eastern seaboard. They've been pissed at the Maine pack for over two centuries. It's why they were never interested in an alliance."

"So.. this was a rogue witch?" I ask, rubbing Sean's back as he wakes up from his own stupor.

"It seems so. Haven wants to know. This could be the final piece of this. Finally."

"I want to talk to Fiona," Sean asks suddenly.

Dad frowns, "it may not be possible. Xander may have to hand her over to the witches."

My phone vibrates silently. I check my messages, then turn to Sean and gasp out, "she said, 'yes!'"

—

Spin. Toe. Spin. Hop and... Lift! Will's hands grasp my waist as he tosses me a few feet away to the ice. Toe. Spin. Faster. Spin. Toe. Lift. Toe. Spin. Dip. Toe.

Stop.

The lights glitter red and green. They shimmer and sparkle over the blue ice, creating a magical surface to skate on. Will's hands find my hips and I twirl, the glittery white skirt I'm wearing floating out around my thighs. We are snowflakes, a prince and his fairy princess, dancing to the music of a long-dead human musician who wrote for the ballet.

Toe. Lift. Twirl. Toe. Spin. Toe. Dip. Stop.

Chest heaving, the sound of the arena slowly filters back into my ears. Cheering, screaming... I meet Will's happy grin with my own.

We did it. We owned this competition. Our skate was flawless and judging by the audience's enthusiasm, they all know it. Grasping Will's hand in mine we skate back to the bench, waving and dodging stuffed animals and flowers being thrown to the ice.

My heart pounds with exhilaration. Tears prick the corners of my eyes. Tears of joy that I think we'll win, of relief that it's over, of sorrow that Mom can't be here. I grab at my bonds with Braxton and Sean, letting their faint presence seep into me to fill those missing holes.

A thick jacket is draped over my shoulders. My body is growing steadily colder again and Will has noticed it. Without my males, my she-wolf can't stay as warm as she should be.

The cold isn't why I'm trembling, however. If we win we'll take the top spot in the rankings. Depending on how many points we earn, we could be looking at an Olympic berth after a few more competitions.

I see the numbers flash on the overhead screen. The crowd grows even louder. My breath catches. I turn to Will in stunned amazement. "We made it!" he crows. He picks me up and spins me around.

Then, abruptly, he sets me down. I frown up at him. "Will?" but he's looking over my head, grinning. He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around.

My skin turns to ice. My she-wolf's head snaps up, ears cocked. The bond crackles to life. Every hair on my body seems to rise to the occasion. My chest feels heavy with excitement.

They are larger than life, dressed exactly alike in dark green and black fatigues with clean-shaven faces and smoldering good looks. The arena starts to play a fight song that I vaguely recognize as something military. They walk across the ice, straight through. Even the little girls sent out to pick up the flowers and teddy bears are staring at them in amazement.

I take a step on wobbly legs just as they reach me. As I reach my hands out, without warning they both kneel. Confused, I look down at them.

"Ili," Braxton says quietly, "we love you so much. Will you marry us?"

"Please, Angel?" Sean adds.

My heart swells. My she-wolf cavorts in happiness as I nod. My hands shake when my mates both reach into their fatigues and pull out rings. Just like humans. Sean slides a ring of hammered gold and intricately woven leaves on my right ring finger while Braxton slides a ring with a blindingly-large diamond on my left.

I can't help the laughter that swells up and spills over. "I missed you," I whisper. Why did I make them stay away for so long? They both stand, Braxton, grinning hugely while Sean's smile was more secret and reserved, but no less happy.

Sean presses his mouth to mine, a chaste kiss that I feel to my soul. "I was right," he murmurs, "you looked like an angel out there. Ethereal."

Braxton's kiss is naughtier but still audience-appropriate. "Beautiful. Goddess, I fucking missed the hell out of you, my gorgeous doll," he mutters. "Thank you for saying 'yes.'"

I throw myself into their arms, soaking in their warmth, their scents. "I want a mating-moon," I murmur. Inside, my she-wolf is wriggling in happiness like a pup. Both males heave huge sighs. Some part of them both settle down, their wolves satisfied after months of missing me.

My she-wolf barks happily even as both males pull away and politely greet Will. Then we're being ushered into the back of the arena, Sean and Braxton sandwiching me between them. I soak them in, my hands entwined with each other theirs, their arms wrapped around my waist and shoulders.

Just before we leave I glimpse a picture of us on the jumbo screen above the arena. The three of us, our faces filled with love and happiness. Our bond, laid out for the whole world to see.

Oh. My. Goodness.