Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 403

Chapter 403 Ava: It Isn't There

Buoyed by my mate's support, though dreading what Ivy's situation might mean—for her and for all of us—I scurry through the packed trails of camp, unsurprised as fresh snow flutters through the sky. It feels like we snow more days than not.

Find out anything yet? I reach out to Grimoire, who's been silent. I can sense Selene watching, but have no idea what he's doing. Sometimes I wish I could just pull his expertise into my head so I don't have to take the long route of actually learning how to do things myself.

Don't be lazy, he chides.

Okay, but did you discover anything yet?

He's silent, leaving my brain to itch as I wait for his response. Finally, he does.

No.

Helpful.

Don't blame me. I'm limited in my abilities until you get here.

"I'm not blaming you," I grumble, almost slipping over a patch of re-freeze. The temperature's plummeted, more than I'd think it would. The sky isn't even fully grayed out.

My magic wriggles in my belly, and I realize I've covered myself in a light layer of warmth without thinking twice.

Like autopilot, but the magical version.

Nice.

Stop being impressed with yourself and hurry up.

"I am, I am." Picking up the pace, I notice a small group of wolves headed toward the debriefing tent. My connection with the pack is not as defined as it should be, but I can vaguely sense that they're Westwood wolves. Must be a scout party coming in.

good news. We

You're slowing down again.

kicks me

floor as

she murmurs

it's pretty

can't use that word.

peek at her little

the wooden frame of her desk.

an apologetic grin, I head down the hall to Ivy's

hand flies to

forward to obscure his features.

unease prickling at the base of my

pack bond assures me he's a Westwood wolf. Not

he's one of Ivy's little fans. Probably didn't want

flies open. Vanessa stands in the doorway, her

throat. "No. Even with the medicine,

the room, her grip tight on my arm. "Come see

sweat. Her head whips from side to side, auburn hair plastered to her face. The blankets twist around her legs as she

physical state—it's the corruption inside her. The

me in his adult form,

and

against mine, and

silver eyes narrow as he studies her. His hands hover over her body,

He moves his hands again, more deliberately this time. "I can't make contact with the corruption.

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