9. Ava

This is awkward,and it's definitely not because of the three male shifters cramming themselves into the car. The real source of my awkwardness isn't the confined space or the fact that after they manage to squeeze in, Eloise waves me off with a smirk. Her smirk isn't just any smirk—it's full of sass and loaded with more snark than necessary, the kind that only someone with her sharp cheekbones and twinkling eyes can pull off. Yes, a smirk can absolutely ooze sass.

But the real awkwardness? Oh, it's something else entirely. It slams into me the moment Eloise, with her impish grin, hands my phone back. I spot a group text with numbers from the three hulking men now squishing me in this tiny car, but that's not the kicker. No, it's the tab she's left open on my phone that sends my nerves into a tailspin.

Ancient Spiritkin Incantations: The Lore of Lunar Bonds.

Trying to look unaffected, I reach for another spring roll from the greasy paper bag on my lap and stuff it into my mouth. Ethan, with his broad shoulders and arms that look like they could bench press a small horse, somehow wedges himself into the driver's seat. His dark hair is a tousled mess, and there's a ruggedness to his jawline that's more appealing than it has any right to be. There's something sexy about a guy with muscles like his making a normal-sized sedan look like a child's toy.

"What's that?" Ethan asks, his deep voice drawing my attention to his piercing green eyes. They are the kind of eyes that see right through you. I quickly shove my phone under my thigh, my heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement.

"Nothing," I lie, hoping my voice doesn't betray the pounding of my heart.

Ethan leans in, his face now dangerously close to mine. His cologne is a heady mix of earth and spice, enveloping me in a scent that feels like a warm embrace. I can't help myself, leaning in a bit just to feel his heat. Our proximity is now alarmingly intimate. A slight, amused lift of his lips tells me he's aware of the effect he's having on me.

He says just one word, and it sends a shiver through me. "Lie."

"You can smell it, can't you?" I ask, trying to sound casual, despite the spring roll muffling my words.

His gaze, intense and unyielding, lingers on my lips for a moment that feels like an eternity before I manage to tear my eyes away, needing to look anywhere but at him.

A sigh of relief escapes me as Ethan finally leans back, but my moment of peace is fleeting.

"Food?" Tyler's head, with its mop of curly blond hair, pops up between us. His proximity overwhelms me, and his scent, fresh and crisp, fills my senses, making it hard to think.

Groaning, I palm his face, feeling his stubble against my hand, and shove him back. "Back off before you're launched through the window," I snap out, covering up how his scent is actually driving me crazy.

Tyler's eyes, a striking, unnatural shade of green, are alight with mischief. They are the kind of eyes you'd expect on a creature of the night, not your average guy, but then again, these men are anything but average.

Just in time, Brody, the quiet one with the soulful brown eyes and an air of calm that's as soothing as it is mysterious, grabs Tyler by the collar and pulls him back. "Still hungry?" he asks me, his voice a gentle contrast to the chaotic energy in the car.

Do I lie? Do I play the delicate flower and say I'm not hungry, or do I just go for it and possibly freak them out with my real appetite? Oh, the sweet, delicious irony.

"What do you have in mind?" I ask, turning around to face Brody in the back. For a normal human, it would be cramped, but as it is, only one of us is human. And Brody barely fits. I can't tell if the scent of leather is from the car or one of them. I'm doing my best not to focus on their absurdly handsome faces. It's like being in a cologne commercial.

"Ava." Ethan's voice cuts through my thoughts, edged with a hint of impatience. I notice he's still idling in the lot, the overhead lights casting shadows across his sharp jawline. "Are you hungry?"

Meeting his intense blue gaze, I shoot back, "Ethan," trying to mimic the deep, gravelly tone of his that seems to vibrate right through the car's interior.

"Face forward," he commands, his large hand gripping the steering wheel, the other casually resting on the shifter. The muscles in his forearms visibly tense. "I'm not moving this car until you turn around properly."

Rolling my eyes, which I'm sure he catches out of the corner of his eye, I face forward, fidgeting with my seat belt. It clicks and unclicks, the mundane sound covers the racing of my heart. Shifters, with their brooding looks and overprotective nonsense, really are a different breed.

"Tacos," I say softly, feeling a wave of nostalgia. I remember my mom's kitchen, always warm with laughter and the smell of spices. No one makes tacos like she did. Damn, I miss her.

"Tacos it is," Ethan says, his voice softer now. He shifts gears, the car lurches forward, and we're finally off, leaving the dimly lit parking lot behind.

"This isn't weird to you guys?" I ask, still not looking at them. It's odd, me sitting in the front passenger seat, playing passenger princess, while they sit crammed in the back like a pack of oversized puppies. "Feels a bit like a kidnapping, doesn't it?"

"Technically, you're coming with us to pick up your snake," Brody points out from the back seat. His attempt to reassure me doesn't quite cut it.

I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this than I'm getting. "That's not the whole story," I insist as Ethan takes us out of town, the car's headlights cutting through the darkness. Is their taco spot some kind of secret hidden in a moonlit clearing?

Silence falls over us. This is usually when most girls would start panicking, but I'm not, and that's kind of alarming. Shouldn't I be more freaked out? These three guys, with their intense stares and alluring scent, managed to persuade not just a cop but also my best friends to let me go with them.

Hindsight's a real kicker, isn't it? I'm feeling like I'm living in a horror movie, the kind where I'm the clueless girl who practically invites the killer over.

"You guys aren't planning to murder me and offer me up to some moon god, right?" I lean forward, trying to spot the moon through the windshield, but it's hiding behind a veil of clouds.

"You think we want to kill you?" Tyler bursts out laughing at my outlandish idea. His laughter is infectious, filling the car and almost making me forget my question.

Okay, so they don't want to kill me, but what do they want to do with me?

"But how did you convince Mia and Eloise to agree to this?" I shoot a look at Ethan, catching him exchanging a knowing glance with the others in the rearview mirror.

"What?" Tyler tries to joke, but there's an edge to his voice now, a hint of something I can't quite place. "Can't we just feed a pretty girl while she's picking up her pet snake?"

"Nope," I reply, my suspicion growing. "You guys tricked me, and I'm dying to know why and how you managed to sway my friends." I should have seen this coming.

"We'd never trick you, Ava," Brody assures me, his voice gentle yet firm. The worst part? I believe him.

"Call it a date," Tyler chimes in suddenly, his tone playful and earnest.

I whip around to face him, ignoring Ethan's low growl of warning. "Excuse me?" No way. They can't possibly be into me. Can they?

Tyler's smiling, his eyebrows arching high. I take a moment to really look at him. He's still in his paramedic uniform, the deep blue fabric hugging his broad shoulders. His curly hair, a wild mane of blond, frames his face with a boyish charm. There are laugh lines around his eyes, telling me he laughs often. Something inside me stirs.

I find myself wanting to be part of those laughs and to share in their moments of joy.

Turning back around in the car's plush seat, I realize Ethan never actually answered my question. He just holds my gaze with those intense, wolf-like eyes, as if waiting for me to turn around in my seat or look away first. Isn't there a saying about not looking a wolf in the eyes? Something about it being a challenge?

Clearing my throat, I settle back into my seat. The soft leather brushes against my skin, a subtle reminder of the car's cozy confines. If I'm being totally honest with myself, I might actually say yes to a date if they'd asked formally, despite knowing my father would totally hate it.

"My ideal date is twofold," I start, trying to sound casual, which earns a laugh from Tyler in the back. I feel Brody's intense gaze on me as the words leave my lips. He has this way of listening that makes you feel like you're the only person in the world. "First, a bookstore, where I can pick out a book. Then, we go back to either your place or mine—it doesn't matter. There, we'd have a charcuterie board filled with all my favorite ‘girl dinner' options."

"What the fuck is a girl dinner?" Ethan snaps out, turning his head slightly to look at me. The frown lines across his forehead, visible under the car's dim interior light, contrast starkly with Tyler's easy smiles. Something in me yearns to smooth out those lines.

Brody leans forward and grips the back of my seat. He smells like the forest we're driving through, a scent that feels oddly like home. "A girl dinner is basically just snacks," he explains with a soft, understanding tone.

I snort. That isn't what it is. It is a meal. I'm about to correct him when Tyler yanks him back and leans forward.

"It's not just snacks," he clarifies with a grin, his teeth almost glowing in the car's muted light. When he exhales, I catch a whiff of mint, fresh and clean. If he had bad breath, I could knock a point off his perfect attractiveness score. How dare he smell so good? "It's a board of foods, usually a woman's favorite finger foods. What are yours?"

"I like grapes, the red ones and the cotton candy ones," I say, nearly shuddering with delight at the thought. "Cheese, all the meats, crackers for little finger sandwiches, and bread with jam." I groan, remembering the chocolate fig jam Mia gave me last year. "So good."

"I know a few wines that would pair well with that," Brody muses, his voice deep and thoughtful, but I quickly dismiss the idea.

"I don't drink."

"Really?" Ethan pulls onto a lane, the car's headlights cutting through the evening mist that's settled around the dense forest. Mystic Falls isn't a huge town, more of a large community nestled in the middle of a forest. But the forest is sprawling enough for shifters to roam freely without encountering humans and only an hour from the nearest city.

I shrug at his question, feeling a pang of sadness. "I used to, back in college, but then my mom died, and the cops said she'd been partying, which wasn't like her at all. Her toxicology report showed she was triple the legal limit."

"So you stopped drinking because of that?" Tyler asks, his tone genuinely curious, as if trying to understand every facet of me.

"It's a control thing, I suppose. I don't want to feel out of control, and drinking does that to me. Besides, I metabolize alcohol quickly, so what's the point, you know?" I remember all the times I had to hold Mia's hair back and wince at the memory.

As we breach a clearing, a house comes into view. It's not a cabin like I'd imagined, but a home that wouldn't look out of place in a town development. With green siding and an architectural style that's somewhere between colonial and Victorian, it has a porch wrapping around one side and a garage on the other. It's nestled among the trees, looking modest yet perfectly cozy.

Ethan pulls up to the front and turns off the engine. The car's hum fades, leaving us surrounded by the quiet of the forest.

Oh, so they really are making me tacos. Well, damn.

The moon hangs heavily in the sky, bathing the world in a silvery glow that's straight out of a fairy tale. "Uh-oh, boys," I tease, turning to Ethan with a grin that's sly. "It's a full moon tonight." I lean forward, the leather of the car seat groaning under me, and I unbuckle my seat belt to inch closer. "Do I have to chain you up in the basement?"

Ethan lounges in his seat like he owns it and snorts. "Kinky, but no," he retorts, his voice a deep melody that fills the car.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and can't resist poking the wolf a bit more. "So are you telling me you're into whips and chains, or are you just plain vanilla, baby?" My heart does a little dance of devilish glee, and I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Tyler, sprawled like a king in his court in the back, loses his cool. His laughter, loud and infectious, bounces around us.

Ethan's gaze drops to my lips, intense and a little bit dangerous. "Vanilla?" he murmurs, leaning in so close, I'm practically swimming in the scent of mint on his breath. "No, tempest, I don't think you're ready for that answer." His eyes, heavy and smoldering, lock onto mine, and it feels like the air in the car thickens with secrets and unspoken promises.

I turn away quickly, my heart pounding a wild rhythm. I open the car door, and the cool night air rushes in, breaking the spell. It's then that reality slaps me in the face—I can't walk. These guys make me forget my own name, let alone my injuries.

"Hang on, butterfly," Tyler says, almost tumbling out of the back seat in his rush to get to me.

"I need air," I mutter, feeling claustrophobic with the heat and intensity that Ethan's leaving in his wake, especially as he stands by the front door, looking every bit the brooding hero.

Brody is already on his feet, swinging his door open. He and Tyler, working together silently, gather my crutches. The cool spring air, tinged with the promise of blooming flowers, feels like heaven against my skin. I gingerly put pressure on my good ankle. Brody's hand, strong and steady, wraps around mine, his touch firm but gentle, helping me stand.

"No chains then?" I blurt out. I mean, seriously, when will my mouth ever take a vacation?

"No chains, butterfly," Tyler replies, throwing a glance at the moon that's playing peek-a-boo with some clouds. His laugh is a deep rumble, like thunder on a summer night. "But it is a fool's moon."

Brody, always the doctor, fiddles with my crutches, adjusting the size, and they suddenly feel like they are custom-made for me.

"I didn't know they could do that," I say, beaming at him. He turns a shade of pink that would give roses a run for their money. "What's a fool's moon? Does it have anything to do with April Fool's?" I ask, my curiosity switching to full gear at Tyler's somber look toward the moon.

"Maybe I'll tell you the story while we eat," Tyler offers, his voice taking on a shade of mystery that has me leaning in.

"That sounds ominous," I grumble, but let's face it, my curiosity's now doing cartwheels.

"Let's get you inside," Brody says, his hand warm on my back, sending those familiar butterflies into flight in my stomach.

"Right to the potty, please," I say, immediately wincing. Who even says potty anymore? Oh right, me.

"I've got you," Brody whispers, close enough that I feel the warmth of his breath. His smile isn't just seen, it's felt, like a cozy blanket on a chilly night.

"I'll get dinner going." Ethan slams the car door, marching forward like he's on a mission, his legs eating up the distance between the car and the front door.

"Don't forget the guac, Huggie," Tyler calls out to him.

"Huggie?" I nearly topple over laughing when I hear the nickname Ethan's been saddled with.

Tyler, a few steps ahead, turns around and walks backward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It's a really good story," he promises, and I can tell he's holding back a laugh.

"Another one?" I grumble, shooting a death glare at the steps leading to the porch. How dare they exist right now? "You guys are just stacking up the stories to keep me around, aren't you?"

"How else are we supposed to convince you to stay?" Tyler retorts before he darts inside.

"He's like a puppy," I mutter under my breath, though there's a smile tugging at my lips.

Brody's laughter rings out, warm and genuine. "He practically is one," he agrees, guiding me with an ease that makes me feel less like a patient and more like a treasure.

"Got any hidden nicknames yourself?" I ask, unable to resist poking.

"Oh yes," Brody says, and there's a twinkle in his eye that tells me I'm in for a story or two.

"Let me guess, you'll hold that hostage too?" I tease as we make our way up the porch steps.

Instead of answering, he sweeps me off my feet with unexpected tenderness, his arms strong and secure. The crutches clatter to the ground. "Don't be fooled, Ava," he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble that resonates with intensity. "I'm no better than the others. I want you here with us as well."

"You are all hiding something," I mutter, resting my hand on the solid warmth of his chest as he carries me over the threshold and into their home. The house feels alive, almost breathing, with a warmth that wraps around me.

He doesn't answer, and instead, he walks me to the bathroom. Photos line the hallway, showing stories of the past. The bathroom, straight ahead and to the right, is a small cozy room with soft, muted colors. Gently lowering me, he opens the door with a care that's almost palpable. "Do you need your crutches?"

"Please," I say, my voice slightly shaky. I wobble on one leg, feeling like a flamingo, while waiting for him to hand me the metal crutches. I shut the door, the click echoing softly, and flip on the fan and the light. Flopping onto the toilet, I try to calm my racing heart.

What am I doing here?

My phone shifts awkwardly in my pocket, jabbing my flesh. I pull it out, the screen turning on with that brilliant, blinding glow. The article that Eloise left up for me seems to leap from the screen.

The title is set against a backdrop of dark, mysterious woods. The article speaks of mystical and historic rituals, painting a picture of moonlit rites and primal energies. It's honestly very woo-woo.

Welcome to Ancient Spiritkin Incantations, a comprehensive resource dedicated to the mystical and historic rituals of spiritkin lore. Our focus is on the revered practice of lunar bonds, a sacred rite deeply rooted in spiritkin culture. These incantations, often performed under the light of the full moon, have been passed down through generations, holding the power to forge unbreakable bonds and awaken the primal energies within. Explore the mystical verses that have shaped spiritkin heritage and discover the ancient words that resonate with the soul of the wolf.

Setting my phone down, I hastily finish up, the words from the article swirling in my mind like a haunting melody. By the time I wash my hands, my curiosity has transformed into a blazing inferno.

I'm totally going to ask them about this.

There is a list of different incantations, but one in particular captures my attention—ritual of the silvered path. The name alone sends shivers down my spine.

The door creaks open when I pull it, revealing Tyler. He tilts his head, his eyes alight with a playful spark that's hard to resist. "My turn," he announces in a lighthearted tease. He sweeps me off my feet so suddenly that I feel a rush of air, a near miss with the doorframe making my heart skip a beat. He carries me down the hall and to a modest kitchen with ease. Moonlight filters through the window, casting a serene glow over the breakfast nook.

"Question," I say as he gently sets me down, the soft cushion of the booth welcoming.

"What's on your mind?" he asks, his voice warm and inviting. He catches an apron tossed by Ethan, his movements a fluid dance of familiarity and comfort in this shared space.

Brody enters, his arms laden with an assortment of beers and sodas. He sets them down with a clink, the sound domestic, before donning his own apron. Behind me, the moonlight plays across my phone, casting an eerie glow on the ancient words.

"What does this mean?" I ask, my voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The men are a symphony of domesticity, yet there's an undercurrent of something more, something ancient and wild. "By the silvered path the moonlight weaves, with stars as witnesses and earth as a guide, we invoke the bond that time has tied?—"

"Ava, no!" Brody's shout is a jolt of alarm, cutting through the cozy atmosphere like a knife, but I can't stop.

It's like the words are pulling me along. "In the sacred silence, under starry skies, from the first shifters to our soul's mate…"

"She can't stop it now," Ethan says, his tone a mix of awe and fear. The spatula he's holding clatters to the floor, forgotten in the moment's gravity.

Tyler stands frozen in front of the booth, his eyes wide with panic, a stark contrast to his usual playful demeanor.

"With these timeless words, our spirits rise. In this sacred light, we bond our fate." The final words escape my lips, a chant echoing in the moonlit kitchen, and my phone slips from my trembling hands. A web of electricity tingles over my skin, a sensation that feels like touching the edge of a mystery.

The air in the kitchen feels charged with an unspoken energy, and the moonlight grows bolder, casting long shadows across the room. I can feel their eyes on me, wide with awe and apprehension, as if I opened a door to something ancient and powerful, something that's part of their world yet beyond it.

"What did I just do?" I whisper, my voice small in the charged silence, the words hanging in the air like a spell—irrevocable and transformative.