10. Tyler

No one likes car accidents.They are like the worst parts of a movie, all crunched metal and chaos. Think of it—metal screeching as it contorts, glass shattering like ice on a frozen lake, and people in a frenzy, crying, screaming. It's a real horror show, but you look, don't you? It's human nature, as twisted as it is.

Here I am, breaking the fourth wall. Why? Because in my head, I'm the king, the narrator of this crazy tale, and in this quirky drama of ours, Ethan, with his brooding, alpha vibe, thinks he's the lead. Nah, he's more like a baby cub howling at the moon for the very first time.

As Ava spills mystical words, it's like watching a slow-motion scene—you know, where everything's heightened. Her lips move like they are weaving a spell all their own. Man, her pillowy lips make me think of sin and sugar—a deadly combo.

She's clueless, adorably so, about the Pandora's box she just opened. The words hang in the air, heavy with magic. It crackles all around us. Ava can't see it, since she's only human, but the way her eyes widen and her lips form a surprised O at our reaction? Priceless.

"I-I think," she stammers, her voice quivering as if the air itself vibrates with the power of her words, "I may have made a mistake."

Rage sloughs off of Ethan, rolling around us as he grinds his teeth and his nostrils flare in a snarl. His focus is centered on Ava. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"

Ava's caught in the crossfire of his rage, her body trembling as she shakes her head. Part of me wants to swoop in and be the hero, but another part is just too darn curious about how she'll react to Ethan's temper.

She's ours as much as we are hers. I need to know if she can handle him.

Imprinting for a wolf is like looking though a lens into the most perfect future. When we first laid eyes on Ava, under less than ideal circumstances—I mean, a bookshelf shouldn't be used as a fashion accessory—it was like getting hit by a bolt of lightning. I remember the way she blinked up at me, those doe eyes wide and confused, framed by a mess of lashes. It was like getting punched in the gut by Cupid himself.

But the whole imprinting deal?

It's a one-sided show at first. For us wolves, it's a lightning strike, but for Ava, it's probably more like wandering into a strange new world, full of questions and curiosity.

Now, the room's as silent as a library at midnight, and I figure it's my cue. I clap my hands. Let's lighten the mood, shall we? I stroll over to Ava, sliding my arm around her. Her eyes, those deep pools reflecting a universe of secrets, make me want to shield her from everything and everyone. Including Ethan, who is still glaring at her.

She's so small, so delicate against my frame. It's like discovering a new side of myself, this protective instinct mixed with an undeniable allure to push her boundaries.

Ethan's voice slices through my reverie, sharp and urgent. "Ava, where did you learn those words?"

Ava bites her lip, her eyes darting around as if seeking an escape. I tighten my grip on her shoulders, offering silent reassurance.

I'm looking down at Ava's phone, nestled in her hands like a delicate bird. I chuckle a bit at the absurdity of it all, the screen glowing with ancient words. "May I?" I ask, reaching out with a playful smirk. "‘Ancient Spiritkin Incantations,'" I read out loud, my voice oozing irony.

Meanwhile, Ethan still vibrates with frustration. He groans, the sound like thunder rumbling through the cozy, cluttered kitchen, with hand-me-down pots and pans witnessing the drama. With a flourish, he tears his apron away, letting it cascade onto the counter like leaves in a whirlwind. His departure is more than mere movement, it's a performance, each stride echoing the thunderous clap of lightning.

Oh, he is big mad.

Ava's eyes are wide saucers of shock, following Ethan's tense shoulders and the angry dance of veins on his neck. His shirt comes off in a fury fueled whirlwind at the front door, the fabric fluttering to the floor. He shifts into a wolf just outside, his form a fusion of man and beast as emotions and fur meld, leaving Ava gaping.

Ethan, Brody's voice cuts through our pack link, tinged with worry and a hint of reprimand. Dude, you can't just turn your back on her now. She needs us.

I need a minute, Ethan's growl echoes in our minds. You explain it to her.

Ava exhales deeply, and I can feel her irritation and smell the bitter tang of guilt wafting off of her. She snatches her phone from my hand and stuffs it into her pocket with quick, uneven gestures. Her fingers flutter slightly, revealing her attempt to mask her emotions. The tension within her is tangible, like a string pulled taut, poised to snap.

Without asking, I scoop her up, sliding my arms under hers in a fluid motion. She's as light as a feather as I set her gently on a chair at the rustic breakfast table, its surface a mosaic of scratches and memories. "Mocktail time?" I ask, my voice light, but inside, I'm craving the punch of a real cocktail.

"Please," she replies, her eyes meeting mine

"Preferences?" Brody, already in motion, crosses the kitchen to our well-stocked garage. He's our go-to guy for drinks, always knowing exactly what to mix.

"Something with lemonade. Oh, lavender lemonade sounds amazing if you have it," Ava says, her voice perking up a bit. She swivels toward me as I slide into the seat next to her. Her gaze is intense and expectant, though she keeps glancing at the door after Ethan. "All right, spill it."

I wriggle my nose, contemplating where to start. I tilt my head, playing with the strands of my tousled hair, thinking it over. "So, remember that story I said I owed you?" I start, trying to keep it light.

"You owe me a bunch, but yeah." She leans back, the old wooden chair creaking under her. She looks uncomfortable, as though she'd rather leave and go anywhere but remain here.

I will have to change that.

"I can move you," I offer, starting to stand, but she's quick, her hand darting out to slap mine away.

"Story first," she insists, shaking her head. I want her to be comfortable, especially since she unknowingly put something lifechanging into motion.

"Okay, okay," I concede, my pout exaggerated for effect. "Let's talk about the spirit comet."

Brody saunters in, his arms laden with lemons and fragrant lavender, looking like some sort of potion master in his element. "Nice starting point," he comments, his voice smooth as he begins his alchemy with the drinks.

"I think so," I say, grinning down at Ava. Every time I look at her, her gaze pulls me in. Damn, she's beautiful. "The spirit comet. It is the cornerstone of our wild, mystical origin story."

"Spirit comet?" She wrinkles her nose, and it's ridiculously adorable, like a cartoon character coming to life. "I thought shifters were…I don't know, descendants of gods or something."

"Shh." I press a finger to her lips, teasing her with a mischievous twinkle in my eyes. "I'm getting to the good part, promise." She swats my hand away, her mock annoyance sparking a playful air between us. "Okay, okay, so all of us spiritkin—wolves, bears, you name it—evolved at the same time." I stretch out my hand, letting it twirl and dip through the air, my makeshift comet soaring across our kitchen's star speckled, imaginary sky.

Brody rolls his eyes at my theatrics. "Ava, long ago, when the Earth was still young and untamed, a rare celestial event occurred." His voice takes on a storyteller's cadence, drawing us in. "A comet passed extremely close to Earth. Our ancestors believed this comet to be the breath of the gods—a mystical bridge connecting the heavens and Earth."

Ava's nodding, her mind visibly racing through this new, fantastical information. "There's the god bit," she muses, resting her elbows on the worn wooden table. "But why is this news to me?"

"Because, butterfly" —I lean in, adopting the tone of a conspirator sharing secrets in the dead of night— "even though we're out of the spiritkin closet, we don't just hand out our secrets like candy," I whisper, feeling her warmth.

"It's not safe," Brody adds, his voice dropping to a gravelly murmur, casting an almost palpable shadow over the cozy kitchen now filled with the rich, calming scent of lavender.

"So, the spirit comet," I continue, my hands fluttering like birds eager to take flight, "isn't just a normal comet. This thing's practically dripping with magic. Picture a starry night with it blazing across the sky like a celestial firework, and down below, a bunch of humans are out, their faces illuminated by its ghostly glow, but here's the kicker—only the chosen few, those lucky enough to be bathed in its light, could actually see it. And that light is pure magic."

Brody jumps back in. "The comet forged a bond between humans and animals as it passed overhead. It bestowed upon humans the ability to transform, to connect with the animal they resonated with."

"Even chipmunks?" Ava asks, a playful spark lighting up her eyes.

"Oh, absolutely. Every creature," I assure her, nudging her playfully, her smile brightening the room. "They say, in that magical moment under the comet's ethereal glow, humans and animals really saw each other for the first time. Like, they actually looked through each other's eyes, understanding and connecting in a way they never had before."

"The spiritkin," she whispers, her voice tinged with wonder as she leans back, her silhouette framed by the warm kitchen lights.

Brody's knife deftly chops the lavender. "That night, the comet wove a spellbinding bond between humans and animals. It was a cosmic gift—granting humans the power to shape-shift into their spirit animals."

"And that's how the first shifters came to be," I add, my voice hushed, almost reverent. Sharing this secret history with Ava feels monumental, but it's a risk I know we have to take for her.

"That's incredible," she murmurs, her eyes glittering with awe and disbelief.

"There's more," Brody says, his voice now heavy with the weight of centuries past. He's serious, the playful chef persona gone as he stirs the lavender into the saucepan.

"The legacy." I let out a sigh, feeling the history and responsibility settle on my shoulders.

Ethan's whisper cuts through our bond, insistent and grave. Leave nothing out.

"These first shifters," Brody says as he adjusts the flame under the saucepan, the lavender syrup beginning to bubble and hiss, "became guardians of nature. We're talking about receiving the strength, agility, and instincts of our animal brethren."

"There's a price, isn't there?" Ava's voice cut through the narrative, sharp and clear.

Her question hangs in the air, dense and charged. We exchange glances, each of us aware of the gravity of what we're about to reveal. This is the moment of truth, where we open the door to the darker, more complex layers of our existence to Ava, and there's no going back.

"We must never go against nature," I tell her, my voice trying to match the seriousness of one of those old-school nature documentaries. "Otherwise, one shift could be our last." I let that sink in, watching her eyes widen like saucers.

"Wait." Ava's eyes practically do a cartoonish bug out. "Are you telling me that if you guys mess with Mother Nature, you might get stuck as wolves?"

I nod. "Yeah, there are those of us who have totally lost it, becoming more animal than human. Imagine forgetting your favorite pizza topping or how to use a smartphone!"

"The gift to shift is sacred in our communities," Brody adds, his voice serious.

"Oh, right! Bonds and all that jazz." I spring back into the conversation.

"Well," Brody interjects, "a pack is different than our clan. Clan Hughes includes all the shifters in Mystic Falls who swore an allegiance for protection to the alpha. A pack is something else, something special. It's us, our small found family, that we choose to spend our life with. With that bond, we can communicate telepathically." He taps his temple for emphasis.

Understanding dawns on Ava.

"Wolves have squad goals, so do bears. We figured it's safer to hang in groups—packs, if you will," I tack on.

"Because of the hunters," Ava deduces, her brain ticking faster than a clock in a time travel movie. "Okay, so why is Ethan mad at me for saying some words from a website?"

"Tons of reasons," I say, feeling my blood start to simmer like a pot on the stove. "Those words are the secret sauce, and not for just anyone's ears. Who sent you that website?"

"Eloise," she replies, her forehead wrinkling. "She set me up."

"Did she mention how she stumbled upon it?" Brody asks, handing Ava her mocktail of lemonade. From here, it smells amazing. I make a mental note that it is her favorite.

"No, she just left it open on my phone." Ava's nose wrinkles again—a gesture I'm learning means she's puzzled or concerned. "I can ask her."

"Tomorrow," I decide, finally caving and taking her hand. It's like holding a live wire, a jolt of electricity zapping right through me, assuring me she is my fated mate.

"Okay, but why is Ethan so angry?" She leaves her hand in mine, turning to look at me full-on, her eyes a mix of inquisitiveness and defiance. She's going to drive Ethan insane, and I can't wait to watch.

"It's all about balance, like a cosmic teeter-totter," I explain, tracing the lines on her palm. "We've been Earth's guardians for ages, and when the comet made its grand reentrance, we got an upgrade—it gifted us mates."

Her eyes twinkle, giving a classic bring it on vibe. "Mates? Like, soulmates?"

"Bingo," I reply, my grin stretching ear to ear. "It's this wild, unbreakable bond. Far more powerful than any love. It's Mother Nature's way of thanking us for not trashing the place, and the moon, she watches us for the comet. You know, just in case we are naughty."

Ava's soaking up every word, her expression a kaleidoscope of wonder. The kitchen feels like our own little bubble, warm and snug, with the comforting scent of lemon and lavender mingling in the air and the soft clink of Brody's utensils in the background.

I watch Ava's face as the words fall from my mouth. Her eyes are doing this super wide thing as she starts to put the pieces together.

"Fated mates?" she blurts out with that edge of sass I'm learning is all Ava.

"By the silvered path the moonlight weaves, with stars as witnesses and earth as a guide, we invoke the bond that time has tied. In the sacred silence, under starry skies, from the first shifters to our soul's mate, with these timeless words, our spirits rise. In this sacred light, we bond our fate." I'm laying it on thick with the incantation—a rhyme our elders drum into us when we're just little tykes, still unscathed by the roller coaster of life.

"I bound us together," she mutters.

"On any regular day, those words would just be fancy fluff," Brody says, plopping down across from her. His face shows his concern, and he's telling me, Dude, get on with it, through our link. "Tell her the rest."

I gulp, feeling like I swallowed a golf ball. "Most folks don't just whisper fate stuff unless they are ready to dive into the deep end." All my earlier pep is fading faster than a sunset as I face the domino effect of what just went down.

"Why?" She reaches for her lemonade, taking a sip with a little moan that would normally kick-start a whole different kind of conversation, but right now? My excitement's taking a back seat. I hate that I am the one to tell her this.

"We have until the next full moon to embrace the bond and seal the deal," I blurt out, laying it all out there. "Like it or not, Ava, you're our fated mate."

"W-What does that mean?" she splutters, nearly choking on her drink.

"It means, sweet luna," Brody jumps in, calling her by the title that she may one day accept, "that we have thirty days to strengthen our bond and you accept us."

"Okay…" Ava drags out the word. "What's this ‘accept' thing? Some sort of ritual or…"

"It's all about leaving our mark," I say, pushing her hair off her shoulder and letting my fingers brush the spot just above her collarbone, "right here." I'm keeping it PG, not spilling the beans that it's usually more R-rated.

"What happens if I reject the bond?" Her voice is shaky, but she's facing the tough questions head-on, even though I see the struggle in her eyes to get the words out.

"Then we lose you and our human identity," Brody answers, his words hanging in the air.

Ava's mouth parts, the weight of her actions dawning on her. "Oh no." Her gaze drifts to the door where Ethan stormed out, realization creasing the corners of her eyes. "I need…" Panic flickers in her gaze, and she swallows hard, like she's trying to gulp down her fear. "Can you show me to the room I'll be staying in? I just… I need…"

"It's okay," I say, even though her words sting a bit. "I'll show you."

My excitement fades away. It's fine that she needs time. However, I've waited for her my whole life, while all she ever did was ask for help.