When I step into Harlow’s bedroom, she’s not reading in a chair by the window where I left her. My heart pounds as I check her closet. She’s not in there or the connecting bathroom. I walk through my closet and into my bedroom. Kyrin perks up from where he’s lying on the floor in front of the fireplace. I finally spot Harlow.

Wearing a dark lace bustier and matching underwear, she props a foot on the windowsill as she fastens the stays on her garter belt to the top of her stockings.

My relief mixes with lust.

“You seem to be back to yourself,” I say, my voice hoarse.

“It’s dark green,” she says without looking up.

“Hmm?” I’m incapable of forming intelligent words.

“You like to know what color I’m wearing. This lace is dark green, like the forest at dusk.”

I stare at her, dumbfounded, as she turns to face me. “It’s very nice.”

“Nice?” She scoffs. “Careful. You’re looking at me like you’re forgetting to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

She laughs and turns back to the mirror to adjust the cups of the bustier. “Whatever you say.”

When I don’t offer a clever comeback, her gaze snaps to mine, something like apprehension on her face.

I don’t know how to meet this version of her. Not with what I now know. For so long, revenge has been the driving force in my life—but the concept of payback was abstract at a distance. It’s different to look someone in the eye while you take something from them.

The thought of vengeance on the Carrenwells has been the anchor holding me fast through all the chaos of the last ten years. This is the first time I feel apprehension about seeing it through.

“I made you something. It’s on your bed,” she says.

I cross the room to the large bed and notice her gift immediately. A new white throw pillow stands out against the black sheets. The thread stitching on it reads, “Disembowelment?”

“Well?” When I spin to face her, she’s grinning broadly. “The thread is red. I know that’s your favorite. It took me quite a long time, so I’m hoping I finally got it right.”

My wife stitched her next guess at a way to murder me into a throw pillow. I laugh, a real laugh from the sheer shock and absurdity of her relentless commitment to offing me.

She bites her lip. “Does that mean I’m right?”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry, lovely. I don’t have a definitive on that one. You would have to ensure that was the thing to actually kill me because you’d be risking blood loss first.”

She frowns and blows out a labored sigh. “It sounds exceptionally messy, so it’s probably for the best.”

I clear my throat, trying to ignore the fact that she’s nearly naked. “I know you didn’t listen last time I told you this, but tonight is hunt night.”

“How often do you have them?” she asks.

“Hunt nights? Every fifteen days, but when the weather is bad like last night, we move them back to the next clear night for safety. Please stay in our room until I come back to get you.”

She pushes her lower lip into a pout. “Are we not participating, my wolf? It seems the sort of thing that newlyweds would be into.”

The thought of chasing her through the woods and fucking her into submission is very appealing, especially when she’s standing there in nothing but some strategically placed lace.

“No, we’re not participating. Unless you’d like to have an audience for the second time I fuck you.”

She smiles wickedly.

“Harlow, I’m serious. Given the rumors that you started about yourself, I don’t know how people will react, and Stefan could very well be participating. I have a quick errand to run right now. I should be back just after dinner. Poke around as much as you want, but don’t leave the house.”

She continues with her exaggerated pout as she steps into the closet and emerges a moment later in a white off-the-shoulder dress, a hint of dark lace peeking out the top of the sweetheart neckline.

I don’t need to be told it’s white. That’s a color I know on sight. It has to be something she brought with her because I never would have had a white dress made for her. My reaction to seeing my wife in that color is primal and instant. The cut of it is so Divine-damned sexy that a cold sweat breaks out on my skin.

She’s fucking with me—pushing my buttons in the maddening way she enjoys so much. She knows it’s hunt night, so she wore a white dress like prey.

“Harlow.”

“Yes, my wolf?” she says, ignoring the lethal edge to my voice as she closes the distance between us.

“Don’t test me today.”

She walks her fingers up my chest. “Then don’t make the testing so fun.”

I grab her wrist and nip at her finger, and she laughs. “Go to the library or the gallery. Just say you’ll stay inside.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I’ll stay in the house until dinner is over, but I make no promises about after.”

It’s the best I can hope for, given her love of antagonizing me. I pray she learned her lesson after her last adventure ended in her almost dying or worse at the hands of a Breeder.

She grabs a book from her nightstand and settles into the chair by the fire to read.

Gaven isn’t waiting in the hall at his usual post when I leave the bedroom, but that’s not entirely unusual. I know that Harlow sends him to snoop around the house when she knows I’m distracted.

Fortunately, I don’t have to search very long. I find him standing on the back patio, looking down the hill at a couple of guards sparring.

“Do you miss it?” I ask. “I haven’t seen you train since you’ve been here.”

He doesn’t turn to look at me. “I get by fine on my own.”

“If you change your mind, I’d be happy to go a round or two with you, old man.”

He turns to scowl at me, and I hold up my hands in surrender.

“I’m serious,” I say. “The offer stands. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. I know you’re determined not to like me, but as a matter of practicality, you’re helping to protect my wife⁠—”

“You’re helping to protect my charge,” he counters.

I sigh. “What I mean is we have a similar goal, and it’s in her best interest if we both stay sharp.”

He crosses his arms. “Fine.”

“In the meantime, I have a wedding gift for Harlow I was hoping you could help me with.”

Gaven’s eyebrows shoot up. “Astonishing that you have interacted with her this much and still think you’re going to be able to buy her a gift she likes.”

“Oh, I know she will. It’s a custom set of blades. Can I show you?”

Gaven glances up at the house.

“She’s just reading,” I reassure him. “She won’t try to sneak out until dark. This will only take a few minutes.”

He waves a hand and palms the dagger at his hip, an anxious habit of his. “Lead the way.”

I start down the gravel path toward the armory at an easy pace with his steady footsteps close behind me. If I rush too much, it will set him off.

Instead of going into the armory, I veer off behind it.

Gaven hesitates a step. “They’re not in the armory?”

“This isn’t the kind of gift I want people to know she has.” I take a step closer and lower my voice. “There are ceremonial things I will give her for everyone else. But these blades are for her to defend herself from people who might not be expecting her to be able to. I know you’ve taught her a lot. I want to be sure I’ve picked something she can work with.”

I don’t wait to see if that satisfies him. I just keep walking around the building until finally we reach the holding cells. He doesn’t say anything, but I can read his discomfort as we approach the building.

“No Drained in here this time. No one has been in here since that night, so I figure it was a good place to hide them for now and probably the one place in the whole fort where I’m certain she won’t go looking for something.”

Gaven huffs a laugh. “Pray to the Divine she’s learned her lesson about poking around this building.”