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“But kissing…” He took her mouth in his, teasing her with his tongue before pulling back. “I can do that.” He kissed her again, turning her into putty in his arms, then rolled her beneath him. “And touching and embracing, I’m down with that, too.” His expression turned serious. “Grace, I…” Uncertainty flashed in his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Um…” He shook his head and dropped a kiss on her nose. “Nothing.” He took her mouth in his, blowing the Paris kiss out of the water and then some. But as she lost herself to his touch and his kisses, she couldn’t shake the feeling he’d been about to say something important. Something she might not want to hear.

* * * *

Grace leaned on the table in the hall, Cordelia’s grimoire in front of her. She’d been staring at the same page for half an hour, yet if asked, she wouldn’t be able to say what the spell was for. At the head of the table sat Maxime, his fingertips tapping the journal he was so protective of he’d not let anyone else touch it, not even Alain. Across from her was Alain. Grace squeezed her thighs together, her body still tingling from this morning. She’d asked, and he’d delivered. But doubts remained. Sex or mates. On which side of the divide did she fall? On which side did she want to fall? And would she want every intimate moment to revolve around Alain’s toys and his kink? For they were a part of him as much as her Southern upbringing was a part of her.

You’re getting ahead of yourself. Alain hadn’t given any indication he wanted more than…than….

She flicked a glance at Alain. He was focused on his grimoire, the distance yawning between them larger than the width of the enormous table.

“What’s going on with you two?” Maxime had leaned back in his chair, his gaze bouncing between the two of them.

“Nothing,” said Alain.

Grace tucked her chin to her chest, unable to meet Maxime’s eye.

“Mm.” Maxime wasn’t buying it.

“This is important,” said Alain, gesturing to the books in front of them. “We don’t have time to fool around.”

Grace returned her attention to the grimoire and turned to a new page. Focus. But her thoughts kept coming back to their conversation this morning, and the things they hadn’t said. The question she hadn’t asked. She was halfway through the spell before she realized what she was looking at. “Hey, I think I’ve found it.”

Alain paused in his reading. “Found what?”

Grace skimmed through the lines on the page, flicking over to the next page, and the next. “The spell Cordelia used to curse Alexandre.”

Maxime was out of his chair and around the end of the table, looking over her shoulder.

“Are you sure?” asked Alain.

Grace slid the book over to him. He ran his finger along the lines as he read, his grin widening the further down the page he went. “You’re right.” He looked up at Maxime. “She’s right. This is the original curse.”

“Finally, a breakthrough. Maybe now we can—” Maxime’s phone rang, and he snatched it off the table. “Oui?” Maxime listened to the caller, nodding. “Bien. Oui.” He ended the call. “You heard?” he asked Alain.

Alain nodded.

“What is it?” Grace turned to Alain.

“It’s your mother. And your stepfather. Pierre and Louis have found them. Gabriel has called for the pack’s plane. They’ll be here late tonight.”

Chapter Thirty

Alain stood beneath the porch light with Maxime and Nathalie, Grace by his side, as headlights wove their way along the drive. They’d spent the remainder of the day dissecting Cordelia’s curse. Three pages’ worth. It was complex and thorough. The old witch had left nothing to chance. It was as complicated a spell as Alain had ever come across. Cordelia would’ve spent weeks working on it, all the while watching Alexandre and Genevieve, happy and in love. Her fury, her hatred, burned within the lines of her spell. So did her power, a malignant thing she’d turned on his ancestors.

Losing his grimoire would have been a devastating blow, but Alain was an accomplished enough witch that, with time, he could’ve rewritten most of the spells. Perhaps improved on a few of them. Cordelia would have been no different. And yet, Cordelia was desperate to get her grimoire back. Instinct, and a strong sense of prescience, told him it had something to do with that spell. The one that had started it all.

Grace bounced on her toes, her mood lighter than it’d been all day. This morning, he’d almost told her what she was to him, but he’d hesitated, an unfamiliar tightness in his chest and her words ringing in his ears. Do you ever have normal sex? The question had caught him off guard, and he hadn’t wanted to lie to her. Being a Dom was as an integral part of him now as his wolf was. From her expression, it wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. So instead, he’d given her what she wanted. And now there was a distance between them he wasn’t certain how to bridge. If she couldn’t accept that part of him… He might be joining Maxime in drinking away his sorrows after all.

But his troubles weren’t enough to drown out the sense that something was coming, or to wipe away the itching at the base of his skull. He’d had no visions, but his gift was telling him something wasn’t right. The closer it came to Emmeline and Bernard’s arrival, the stronger the sensation grew. And he wasn’t the only one on edge. Maxime might not have Alain’s second sight, but he was an alpha through and through, and his instincts were strong. They shared a glance over Grace’s head, the message clear. Be on alert.

The car pulled up in front of them in a crunch of gravel, and Louis hopped out of the driver’s side, opening the door for an older version of Grace. Emmeline King’s clothes were rumpled and there were dark circles under her eyes, but her face lit up when she spotted her daughter on the porch.

Grace raced down the steps and threw herself into her mother’s arms before he could stop her. There were tears and laughter as the women embraced. It should please him. And it did. He’d reunited his mate with her mother. Made Grace happy and eased her burden of guilt. But he couldn’t ignore the ache in his chest, or the fear that caught in his throat, that now she was reunited with her parents, this might be the end for him and Grace. And he couldn’t ignore the tension buzzing beneath his skin. Something was off.

A big barrel of a man, his dark hair graying at the temples, got out of the car and joined them, all smiles. Bernard King. The itching at the base of Alain’s skull intensified.