Page 20 of Shared With The Pack

Right on cue, just as snowflakes stick in my hair, Wren hollers from the porch, wrapped up in a blue and black scarf. I smell warm milk and chocolate on the stove. Smiling, I set down the axe. I look to say goodbye to Sage, but she's already running off. I quickly hoist the new logs onto our firewood stack before striding across the yard and up onto the porch.

"Aren't you cold?" Wren asks.

I kiss a snowflake off his lashes. "Sure am," I grin, sweeping him off his feet. His shriek of laughter rings like bells. "How about you warm me up?"

There's already a roaring fire inside. I lay Wren down in front of it for an indulgent midday fuck and don't stop touching him until his joyful laughs turn into a song of unbridled pleasure.

Resting on the fireplace mantle above us, a pack of wooden wolf figures lovingly surround a wooden bird: a happy little wren mounted on a branch speckled with hand-painted flowers.

Extended Epilogue

Heath

Half A Year Later...

"I'm surprised to see you again, and I must admit I'm shocked by your...unique companionship."

This witch is old. Wren greeted him as Professor Hawthorne but that's an ill-fitting name for a man reeking of every 'luxury' humans have wrought. Like harsh soap and thick cologne. His judgmental eyes glare at me from behind a pair of glasses. "Is this your familiar?"

"No." I spit. Wren would never collar one of us. We are not servants. "He is my mate."

My voice is as scratchy as the horrid black robe they made me put on since the gates of the academy. The witches were afraid of my wolf shape, and then horrified by my nakedness. Prudes and cowards, all of them. I only suffer such indignity because Wren wishes to return to his studies of witchcraft.

He changed his mind. He says he wants to graduate.

Bah. It makes no sense to me. Everything I've ever learned was taught underneath the open sky, not trapped in these twisting towers and locked iron gates. But returning to the academy is important to Wren. If he wants this, he will have it. Griff, Ridge, and I are all in agreement on that.

"Oh?" Professor Hawthorne hums. His expression shifts from distrustful to thoughtful. "How curious."

"I've left the Blackspell coven. I'd like to return and finish my studies here. Will that be a problem?" Wren sits up straight in the hard oaken chair in front of the professor's desk. He's not so timid and shy these days. The strength of our pack bond grants him confidence.

Dozens of candles and gas lamps light the room. I wiggle my nose at the stink of the latter, abandoning my seat to lean against the window. It opens a crack, letting in the fresh air from a light spring shower.

"No, it won't. In truth, that's quite beneficial. Your former coven is...unwelcome here, putting it in the most polite terms."

A crack forms in Wren's armor. I sense his brief spike of fear and hesitation, though he doesn't falter and pushes forward to hear the truth. "What happened?"

The professor sighs. "They traded their magic for immortality. I'd hardly even call them a 'coven' now."

"They're vampires?" Wren's eyes widen, and a growl itches in the back of my throat.

"Yes," he confirms with a solemn nod. "While St. Salem Academy welcomes witches from a variety of diverse backgrounds, we cannot accept witches who are, simply put, no longer witches."

Vampires have no magic of their own. These are creatures that grow nothing and create nothing. They only consume. A curse upon the living and a blight upon the land. I watch Wren carefully, wary of how he'll take this knowledge about his former family's fate. Wren has such a soft heart, after all.

"I see. Well, they made their choice." And Wren has made his. "I won't have a problem re-enrolling then?"

"Ah, no." He sounds reluctant about that, though as he looks at Wren his reluctance gives way to acquisitiveness. "We're quite curious about something...were you the one who fiddled with the barrier last year?"

"Yes, this was him. My mate has many talents." I can't help but brag about our boy.

"An impressive feat," Professor Hawthorne says before looking at Wren. "We'll have to put you into Advanced Abjuration. Will you and your...mate require lodging?"

Wren shakes his head. "No, I live nearby and I'll take a light class load to ease back into things."

Professor Hawthorne glances at me. His distaste for me is nearly palpable. My lips stretch into a grin, an excuse to show off my teeth. "Likely for the best," he says, clearing his throat, "but do feel free to change your mind. Stranger things have happened, and the times are changing. We already have those hellhound familiars roaming around campus, why not a werewolf too?"

With a resigned sigh, he stands up and offers his hand to Wren.