Eleven years after they were promised to each other, Bastian Weir – now known as Seb - walks into Kathryn Moncur's bookshop and announces it is time for them to wed. Initially resisting, Kat is loathe to give up her shop to become the wife of the new head of the Weir werewolf pack. While Kat is a witch, she conceals her practice and prides herself on the very normal, human, life she has established.
Learning that the previous head, Seb's father, has been murdered, and that she is now a likely target for the killer, she agrees to fulfil their promise until the crime is solved. This leads to Kat relocating to live with the pack as she did as a child, when her father worked for them as a dedicated magic user before his death.
It also means their inevitable wedding.
While Kat is still wary Seb is kind, and some of the gentle care they knew as youngsters begins to resurface.
Reconnecting with the pack, Kat gets drawn into the dangerous dynamics of Seb's attempt to modernise the work the werewolves undertake, and the investigation into his father's cruel death. As threats against them escalate, Kat must decide if she can face joining Seb fully, and if they can heal the gap left by their time apart to become stronger together.
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Parental death
Minor animal death
Guns
Kidnapping
There was a delightful order to running a shop, even a ramshackle one such as ‘Page Turner’. I’d been there five years, surrounded by books and papers and just a smattering of stationary to keep the regulars interested, and I was well attuned to the rhythms of the day.
The best shop at this end of the main shopping precinct, ‘Page Turner’ took up the full lower storey of the building with a very nice upstairs tenant occupying the upper floor - who made sure I got all the packages that showed up at irregular times. Mrs Wilson was a darling, even if she kept trying to set me up with her too young grandson.
Intermittently, I got new stock and took my enjoyment picking through the second-hand books handed in as they came to me. There were a few rare treasures, usually scooped up by one of the overly aggressive college tutors, but mostly I got books people did not love anymore, be it through their obsession passing or a relative doing the same.
It was not exactly a bustling town, Avon-on-Lee, but it was careful and regular, and people tried to get on with each other. It had been a good place to seek community when I was left alone after my mother’s death, and while they still considered me unusual, I was welcomed in as part of the place once I’d lasted a couple of years.
This meant I knew, when the door opened ten minutes to closing, it was not one of my regulars walking into my shop. None of them would do that to me.
I looked up from counting the cash, bringing up my best customer service smile, only for it to die on my lips. Bastian Weir stood taking up all the space in my door, his broad shoulders blocking the view of anyone else accompanying him. It was unlikely he’d be alone - he wasn’t often allowed to be unattended, given his position – but, as he closed the door and stepped closer, I noticed he had the decency to come in solo. Well, wonders never ceased.
He was as casual as I’d even seen him: dark jeans and a leather jacket that hung open to show a claret red shirt.
“Good evening,” he said. His hair was neater than when we’d last seen each other too, the dark blond now trimmed into a business cut, even styled into some sense of order. It was all a little off, a little too unlike the usual formal presentation we had shared before, but there was clearly effort behind it. “It’s good to see you again, Kat.”
“Bastian.” I nodded, going back to counting the cash. “We’re only open until eight, so you’re too late for browsing.”
“My father died two weeks ago.”
Shit. I stilled, looking up. He was grim faced but reserved, no tears or anger. Still lingering at my door. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you were close. How’s your mother doing?”
“The grief’s hard. She’s baring it well, but it’s been a lot. She’s staying with Marie just now.”
“I’d have come to the funeral, if I knew.”
“Thank you.” His smile, while brief, seemed genuine. “His passing means I have to take over family matters.”
“I imagine so.” I glanced around my little shop, my heart sinking lower the longer the silence went on. “All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Right.” I swallowed, my responses evaporating in the desert between my throat and teeth. I had managed eleven years away from them. Eleven. It was stupid to think it would go on forever. But hope always died last, and I’d not heard from Bastian at all in the interim. It seemed like there was a good chance.
“I know it’s been some time since we were promised.” He stepped closer, peeking around the shop as he approached the counter.
“Years.”
He nodded. “You’ve done well, setting up on your own. I know that’s not easy with everything.”
“Thank you.” I tried to keep my tone level, with little success. My face heated, a flush to accompany the rush of words I trapped behind my teeth like a snarling dam, and I blinked back the furious tears that flashed behind my lashes. I would not have this conversation with him right now.
“My family could have made it easier.”
“Not really.” I closed the till too hard, the money inside uncounted and unbalanced, and turned away from his approaching form.
I retreated into the backroom, leaving him the shop as I got my coat and bag. He appeared at that door too, hovering just at it so not to crowd me into the space. “Kat—”
“Should I have told you to stay? Does that work?” I rounded on him, a hand on my hip and my coat tucked into the crook of my elbow.
He barked a laugh, sucking his lower lip in as he shook his head at me. “You weren’t this rude at fifteen.”
“My mother insisted on manners. I’ve had a while to unlearn them.”
Bastian ducked his head. “I heard she’d passed.”
“Yes. Five years ago.”
“I’m sorry. It’s a particular pain.”
I stopped short, nodding as my rebuke died in my throat. “Yeah, it is. Same for you, I imagine.”
“Different circumstances. Someone attacked my father.”
“He was killed?” He winced at the question, but nodded. “Shit. That’s incredibly stupid. Do you know who did it?”
“No, that’s why I’m here. We’re looking into matters, but until it’s settled, you need to come to live with us.”
“Pardon?” My bag slipped from my shoulder, landing on the floor with a loud thud. I didn’t bend down to collect it, too focused on Bastian.
“We’ll have to be wed, and quickly, given the approaching moon. You know that.”
“But living with you? I have a life here.”
He quirked his brows, tilting his head as he looked at me. “Did you expect us to be separate when married?”
“Yes! I don’t even practice like my father. I’m no use to you. I thought you’d have found yourself some other wolf to tumble with and we’d be a technical marriage to fulfil your requirements.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again, his tongue darting out to lick along his top lip when he dropped his head. His brows drew down in thought, I watched them make a dark little line of hair, before he looked up at me again, face tight. “Right. This will be quite uncomfortable then. I’m sorry. But I must insist that you come and live with me for the marriage, at least until my father’s killer is found.”
“What about my shop? Am I supposed to drop all of this?”
“For now, yes. Not forever, but it would be an obvious place for someone to target you.”
“You’re assuming they even know about me. Us. Whatever this is.” I waved a hand between us, the gap, the distance I was keen to keep.
“The pack knows we were promised. My father kept track of where you were, that’s how I found you.”
My face flushed as red as my temper at that, the little barb almost enough to push me over the edge. “Oh, I recall.” I spat the words, grabbing my bag up and pushing out of the door past him.
“What does that mean?” Bastian grabbed my elbow to slow me down, and I yanked my arm free, rounding on him.
“Don’t play coy with me, dropping comments about making it easier. I remember how much my mother used to sob after your father came visiting, him or his friends.”
He stepped away from me, hands up and palms facing me to show no harm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Spare me, Bastian. You’re taking over the duties; I’m sure someone will fill you in on the proper etiquette for intimidation.”
I stormed away from him, heading towards the door. He came up after me, keeping a few strides between us rather than grabbing for me again.
“I still need you to come with me, Kat,” he said as I reached for the handle. “You’re a potential target if someone’s going for the pack. And I can’t see any reason my father would be killed, if not that.”
I clenched my fists as Bastian came closer, willing myself not to shout as I looked over my shoulder. “His line of work doesn’t give you a few clues?”
“We’re only enforcement, nothing that would necessitate a murder. Even if someone were angry about the nature of our work, it would be more obvious.”
“There are usually tells, yes. Calling cards.” I turned around to look at him again. He was so alien compared to the boy I’d known as a teen, dressed up smart to make a good impression. None of this felt right. I didn’t know if it ever would. An arranged marriage when everyone who had arranged it was dead. Something about that seemed pitiful, and cruel, that we would be bound by the promises of the dead.
Bastian took a small step closer, smiling just a little. There wasn’t much warmth to it, it didn’t reach his already dark eyes, but he was being so careful. Even in my anger, I could see that. “I know this is sudden. I’m sorry. But I have to keep you safe, and the only way I can do that is by having you with us. For now. It doesn’t have to be forever, and I don’t want you to give up your whole life. I don’t believe in that.”
I swallowed, glancing at the door. No lurking body guards, no waiting heavies, just my little front porch. “Who’s here with you?”
“I’m on my own.”
I turned back to him, crossing my arms. “Bullshit. They never let you out on your own.”
“They do now.” He smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. “It’s been a while. I’m not on a leash anymore. At least not in the same way. There are some that can act as protection, of course, but I didn’t think you’d like that for this news.”
“So you drove up here on your own, hoping I’d be here. What if I’d been on holiday?”
“Then I’d have left you a note.” Bastian pulled out a little notebook from his back pocket.
I laughed, then bit my lip despite it, rolling my eyes. “Charming. ‘Time to get hitched, text me’?”
“I hadn’t thought it through that far. I’m sure I would have come up with something.” He stepped a little closer again. “Are you going to come back with me?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t want to.” I sighed, looking around the shop again. “I need to think about this. And I want to know more about what’s been happening. You weren’t next in line for getting murdered when our families were friendly.”
“It’s been a while.”
I shrugged, pulling my bag up by its strap. “My mother didn’t want us tied in with it, after what happened.”
“Your father was a good man. Loyal. It hurt my father, too, losing him.”
“Loyal to a fault.” I shook my head, unwilling to go back down that road. Taking a deep breath in, I settled my shoulders, chewing my lip before I spoke again. This was not becoming of me. While I might be alone now, I’d been taught manners growing up, and Bastian was grieving. The least I could do was be polite. “Come on, you can come back to my place. Have you eaten?”
He wrinkled his nose. “No.”
“Fine, I’ll cook for us both, then. And you can get me caught up.”
“I can drive you over?” He pulled some keys out of his pocket, giving them a little shake.
“Sure. It’s only a couple of miles, so I usually walk, but you’ll be able to park easily enough.”
“Yeah. I noticed there’s not many cars around.”
I sniffed, turning to leave. “It’s a quiet town. I like that.”
“Odd spot for a witch.”
“I don’t practice. Now shift, I need to lock up.”
“Interesting choice of words,” he said, smirk thick in his voice. Oh, he was going to be insufferable.
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