My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

"Good morning, friends," Graeme greeted the three awaiting them outside. Greta looked annoyed until she laid eyes on her brother. "Sorry to have you wait," he smiled, backing up to allow them in.

"Bad time?" she raised her eyebrows teasingly at him as she walked past.

He gave her a polite smile. "Never, sis. Especially when the lovely Sylvia Wilde is with you," he gave the woman behind her a hug.

"Hello, dear Graeme. How are you?" Sylvia grasped his hands in her own, smiling at him with kind, dark eyes.

"Very well. It's wonderful to see you again," he said. Sam appeared from behind his mother to give Graeme a one-armed hug.

"How are you brother?" Sam asked, slapping Graeme on the back.

As Sam and Graeme were talking, August appeared in the kitchen. "August," Sylvia didn't hesitate to walk toward the human girl and take her timid hands warmly in her own. "I've heard so much about you, dear. It's an honor to meet you." Sylvia's long wavy hair had started to grey at the roots, which only accentuated the wisdom that naturally fell around her.

August couldn't help but think that if anyone were to risk appearing 'witchy,' it was the woman standing in front of her with her pale linen dress, wispy floral robe, and bohemian-like jewelry. The silver feather earrings, turquoise necklace, and rows of bracelets Sylvia wore jingled and rattled together when she moved, creating a pleasant chorus of elemental sounds.

"Thank you so much for coming. I really don't know anything about reiki, but if it can help, I'm definitely willing to try it," August replied, thankful that she didn't get any flashes of thoughts from Silvia with her contact.

"Of course. It's helpful for everyone. Greta and I often work together in assisting pack members with different issues," Sylvia explained. She had the kind of smiling eyes that would continue to be full of light even when her smile had faded.

Greta appeared with a tray of pastries after putting the tea on. "Let's go sit on the deck," she suggested, walking out for the others to follow.

"You must be Sam," August smiled at the man who walked out next to Graeme. He was nearly as big as Graeme in size but with thin eyebrows and a thin, straight nose. "It's so nice to meet Greta's partner. She's been so wonderful to me. Thank you for sparing her as much as you have."

"It's nice to meet you finally, August. I know she is fond of you as well," he bowed slightly, and his calm eyes smiled as he spoke.

Both Sam and his mom had the same beautiful sunset-colored hair and dark eyes. Sam's hair was longer than Graeme's, hitting just at his shoulders in gentle waves, and he also had a beard and mustache, which August found amusing recalling how Greta had scolded her brother for precisely that just a few days ago. Sam's facial hair was very well groomed, though, which she imagined may be Greta's doing.

Everyone settled around the table except Graeme, who remained standing, holding the back of August's chair. "Thank you for coming, Sylvia. Greta said she was going to kick me out, so I'll head to the council, if no one minds it. They're giving me access to mom and dad's case today," he shifted his eyes to Greta. Everyone's eyebrows raised hearing this.

"W-why?" Greta asked.

"Hopefully to clear Maggie once and for all," he said vaguely.

Greta's expression grew grim. "Be careful, Graeme. They guard that prejudice fiercely," she said.

The black map and the stacks of suspicious stories about alyko came rushing back to Graeme, and he grimaced. Greta didn't even know the half of it. He would have to fill her in about the new revelation later. Instead, he bent to kiss August on the temple. "I won't be too late," he reassured her, squeezing her shoulder before saying goodbye to the rest of them.

August felt her energy slowly drain after Graeme left the deck. Sam and his mom watched her politely in the quiet that rippled around the four of them, as if everyone were distracted with their own thoughts.

"What do you do, Sam?" August finally asked.

"My cousin and I run a farm brewery," he replied in his deep voice. August smiled vaguely imagining Sam's voice as a porter to Graeme's rich stout.

"That sounds interesting," she said quietly. Alan was a beer snob, but August didn't know that much about it—just the little she learned in pouring beer for him and carrying it from one room to the other. She wondered how a farm brewery was different from any other brewery, but she couldn't bring herself to ask. Why did it feel today that just summoning this much enthusiasm for small talk was so exhausting? She had been looking forward to meeting Sam.

Graeme suddenly reappeared, startling them all. "You forgot the tea, little sister," he said, placing the tray with the kettle and cups on the table. "And for you, my love," he set a bowl in front of August. She looked up at him questioningly. "Bone broth. You didn't eat much yesterday," he shrugged with hands in his pockets.

"Thank you," she said, offering him a goofy smile.

Why did she suddenly look so tired? "Is it okay that I'm leaving?" he asked quietly as he squatted down next to her where he had to look up into her eyes.

"Yes, it's fine," she said, glancing at the others with a blush creeping up her face.

"Don't worry about them. If you're not feeling well, they can leave," he said, noticing her embarrassment. "I've been kicked out of Sam's house loads of times," to which Sam chuckled in response.

Graeme watched her for a few more moments, reaching up to touch her cheek, which turned redder. "Please call me if you need anything. I mean it," the depth in his voice indicated that he wanted her to take him seriously, and he waited for her to respond to it.

"I will," she smiled. Obviously he was finding it hard to leave again.

Unaffected by the others around them, Graeme cupped August's face in his hands, dipping in to kiss her one more time before resting his forehead on hers.. He growled softly against her again, which came out to sound more like an affectionate purr, and she couldn't help but giggle as she pictured the wolf from this morning.