“A year and a day,” I said, very slowly and carefully. “Without shifting. A year and a day as a human.”
“Not precisely. You’ll always be a werewolf. But this will give you … time.”
My hands went to my stomach, which seemed a ridiculously stereotypical gesture. But both men nodded. “Time to be pregnant,” I said, just to be sure.
“We thought you’d appreciate it, after what you’ve been through,” said Jacob.
The world had gone sideways. It was like I couldn’t see straight, my head was ringing so much. “Like, a reward? I didn’t do this for a reward—”
“Of course not,” said Ezra. “This is more to say … we like what you’ve been doing and you should keep doing it. Do you want it?”
A year and a day. I nodded. He came forward and put the chain around my neck. Did something that shortened it, so I couldn’t just pull it off again. If I looked, I mostly likely wouldn’t find a clasp.
The stone looked ancient, prehistoric. The carving was round, primitive, stylized, eyes and flattened ears on a canine face the only visible features. A wolf. I understood what he’d meant—I wouldn’t be human. Wolf would always be here, looking out for me. And that was fine.
A sacrifice, for a child. As it should be.
I wiped tears away with the back of my hand. I was leaking. I didn’t say thank you, because there were rules about thanking fairies—you didn’t do it, it angered them. I wasn’t sure if that rule applied to … Powers, or whatever they were, but for something this magical and crazy it seemed best not to take chances. I clasped the stone wolf tight in my hand. A clear gesture of astonishment and maybe even gratitude.
“Have a nice day, Katherine Norville,” the pale Man in Black said. They walked away. Just like that.
For what seemed a very long time, I stood still. Long enough for the sun to rise fully over the horizon and bathe me in light. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think.
I wanted to find Ben. I needed Ben, right now.
I still didn’t know what had happened to Ben and the others. I couldn’t form the thought that Ashtoreth may have won, that Rick and his friends might have been a few minutes too late. I couldn’t face it. So I stood by the shore of the lake, turned to the direction I’d last seen my mate, put my hands around my mouth and howled. Called his name, but it sounded like an echoing wolf song to my ears.
Ten seconds, I waited. Twenty.
Then heard the responding call, “Kitty!”
I ran. Met him coming down the slope that marked out this inlet of the lake. He looked battered, even with his werewolf healing. Bruises on his cheek, cuts on his arms. But they were just cuts, and he hadn’t been poisoned by silver. He smelled safe. I took a running leap into his arms, and he caught me, pulling me close, body to body. I might never let go.
He loosened his grip enough to let me breathe, but we held each other’s ar
ms and started talking in a hyperactive, adrenaline-fueled flood.
“We’re still here,” he said. “Does that mean we won?”
“I think so? Probably?”
“Roman—”
“Dead. Gone. Ashtoreth—she didn’t kill you.”
“She smacked me—I fell, that’s where I got the cuts. Then she went after you. I couldn’t stop her, I freaked out, almost lost it—”
“Rick came back! Rick and the vampire ninjas!”
“I know! I ran into them as they were leaving, they’ve got this Land Rover with blacked-out windows—”
I kissed him, because I couldn’t stand there not kissing him anymore. His hands tightened around me; his lips took a second to get over the shock and stress and respond. When they did, I kissed even more, devouring kisses, and my body reacted, legs wrapping around his, locking me to him. I wanted to rip his clothes off. And why the hell not? There was no one around. It was a beautiful morning. I slipped my hands under his shirt, rubbed them up his warm back.
He gave a hoarse chuckle and spoke between kisses, “Not that I’m complaining, but something’s gotten into you.”
“A year and a day,” I said, which I knew made no sense. I didn’t care about sense. I did a quick round of math. I didn’t even stop to think if I trusted the Men in Black. I didn’t much care if this was going to turn out to be another cosmic joke. It was a chance, and I had faith. “We have three months to get knocked up.”
He stared at me. “Wait. What?”