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  “I know.” I fought not to roll my eyes.

  “You may think you know, but—”

  “Faythe.” I turned to fully face her on the step. “I hear you. Kids can wait. College shouldn’t. I’m agreeing with you, so you can stop trying to convince me.”

  She nodded. Then she took another long sip from her mug with her brows furrowed. “It’s just that…I’m not sure how you could possibly be eighteen already. I swear you were thirteen yesterday. And if you’re ready to be married, then you probably don’t need a mother-figure anymore, so—”

  “I still need you, Faythe. I just need you at a little bit of a distance.”

  She smiled. “Well, you still have me. At a little bit of a—”

  The door squealed open again, and I spun, sloshing coffee over my hand, just as Justus stepped onto the porch. The moment he saw me, he threw both hands in the air in a triumphant gesture. “Not criminally responsible for my actions due to psychological trauma!”

  I set my mug down and threw myself at him.

  He laughed as he lifted me in a hug. “You do realize they basically just said I was too irresponsible to be held accountable for my own actions, right?”

  “That is not what they meant.” I dropped a kiss on his mouth, then let myself slide down his body until my feet touched the porch. “Does that mean there’s no sentence?”

  Justus frowned. “What on earth is he doing?”

  I followed his gaze to the grass, where little Greg was still trying desperately to get his Frisbee airborne. “Justus! Your sentence!” I demanded.

  He laughed again. “One year of service as an enforcer, without pay.” As if he needed a salary. “It’s so that I’m ‘properly trained’ to triumph over my own impulses and urges.”

  Unease settled through me. “Where?” What if they were sending him to the Northwest Territory? Or the New England Territory? Or anywhere too far for me to drive to every weekend?

  Instead of answering, he turned to Faythe with an expectant look.

  She smiled. “He’s replacing Brian.”

  “At home?” I squealed. “You knew!”

  Faythe shrugged. “It was Marc’s idea.”

  “Thank you!” I dropped into a squat and threw my arms around her.

  She laughed. “We figured the best way to keep you around a little longer was to keep Justus close.”

  “Thanks, Faythe.” Justus tugged me up by one arm. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “What?” I frowned at them both.

  “Yup. Here you go.” Faythe leaned back and dug a set of keys from her pocket, then dropped them in his palm. “Fill the tank on your way back, please.”

  “Will do.” Justus led me down the steps toward one of the rental cars lined up in the driveway.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as he opened the passenger’s side door.

  “You’ll see.”

  “I want to know now.” But he was already rounding the front of the car.

  Justus got into the driver’s seat and started the engine, then he backed out of the driveway. “If I tell you, I’ll ruin the surprise.”

  “I’m kind of okay with that, considering that my last surprise landed me upside down in a car in the desert.”

  “This isn’t that kind of surprise.” But for the entire twenty-minute drive, he refused to even give me a hint, until we pulled into a parking lot in the closest little town to the cabin complex.

  “A hotel?”

  “Not just a hotel. The best hotel SmallTown, Montana has to offer.”

  “It’s a Courtyard Marriot,” I said as he pulled into a space near the front.

  “That is the best hotel SmallTown, Montana has to offer. But I hear there’s an available upgrade that includes a mini-fridge and an extra coffee pod.” He got out of the car and raced around to open my door before I could do it myself.

  “Do I get to guess why we’re here?” I asked as he held the door open for me.

  “If you need more than one guess, we might have a problem.”

  I laughed, hoping he couldn’t hear how very fast my heart was beating. How loud my pulse was—at least in my own ears. “I’m assuming we’re here because everyone at the cabin has shifter hearing. And thinks we’re too young to be married.” Although we were clearly here with Faythe’s blessing, at least.

  “That’s definitely part of it.”

  “How long are we staying? I didn’t bring my luggage.”

  “Everything you need is here.”

  “Is that your way of telling me I won’t be wearing anything tonight?”

  Justus groaned. “If you could just not say things like that until we’re actually in the room…” He held the hotel door open for me, then he led me to the left, toward the elevators, rather than right, toward the front desk.

  “Shouldn’t we check in?”

  “We’re already checked in.”

  “Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Alexander,” the clerk called.

  “How does he know who we are?” I frowned. “Though maybe we should have a talk about how I’m still Kaci Dillon.”

  “I don’t care what your name is.” The elevator doors slid open, and Justus walked me backward into it as he kissed me. Inside, he pushed a button on the panel, then pressed me up against the mirrored wall and kissed me some more. “When I made the reservation, I wasn’t sure whether or not my sentence would separate us. I figured this might be the only night we get together for a while.”

  My heart slammed against my chest when the doors slid open, and he led me out of the elevator onto the fifth floor. “Unfortunately, there’s no honeymoon suite at the Courtyard Marriott, so we might have to make do…” He pulled a key card from his pocket and stopped in front of the third room on the right. “…with the whole floor.”

  “What? Wait. You rented the whole fifth floor?”

  He shrugged as he tapped the key card against the door handle, and the light flashed green. “I wanted privacy.” He turned the knob and pushed the door open just an inch. “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “You don’t have to question everything, Kaci. I’m not going to hurt you. Ever. So please just close your eyes.”

  I closed my eyes. A second later, I squealed as he lifted me off my feet, cradling me in his arms like a baby.

  No, like a bride.

  His back thumped against the door as he pushed it open, then he turned sideways to carry me inside. Through my closed eyelids, the light level changed. It looked dimmer, yet…flickery.

  “Okay. Open them.”

  I opened my eyes. Then I gasped.

  The room was full of roses and…ribbons. I looked up. The ceiling was covered in red balloons. And candles flickered from every flat surface.

  “Wait, those are…?”

  “Battery powered.” Justus shrugged as he set me on the bed. “The hotel has a policy against open flame, so I had to use fake candles. But the romance is real.”

  “Hell, yeah it is,” I said as he lowered himself to his knees and slid my shoes off my feet. “This is all the romance.”

  He slid one hand up each of my legs until he found the button at the waist of my jeans. “Kaci, this is only the beginning…”

  Also by Rachel Vincent

  SHIFTERS

  Stray

  Rogue

  Pride

  Prey

  Shift

  Alpha

  WILDCATS

  Lion’s Share

  Blind Tiger

  UNBOUND

  Blood Bound

  Shadow Bound

  Oath Bound

  SOUL SCREAMERS (YA)

  My Soul To Take

  My Soul To Save

  My Soul To Keep

  My Soul To Steal

  If I Die

  Before I Wake

  With All My Soul

  MENAGERIE

  Menagerie

  Spectacle

  Fury


  THE STARS NEVER RISE (YA)

  The Stars Never Rise

  The Flame Never Dies

  BRAVE NEW GIRL (YA)

  Brave New Girl

  Strange New World

  100 HOURS (YA)

  100 Hours

  99 Lies

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks, first and foremost, to my husband, who has put countless hours into my career in the form of artwork, web design, brainstorming, and moral support—as well as a six-foot long white board on my office wall. You are my anchor and I love you.

  Thanks also to Rinda Elliott, my long-time critique partner, who’s been with me from the beginning.

  Thanks to Jennifer Lynn Barnes who said, “You should write a “wake up in Vegas married” story!

  Thanks to Elizabeth Taylor for edits and moral support.

  And thanks most of all to all the Shifters fans who asked for more.

  About the Author

  Photo credit: Kim Haynes Photography

  Rachel Vincent is a former English teacher and an eager champion of the Oxford comma. She shares her home in Oklahoma with two cats, two teens, and her husband, who’s been her # 1 fan from the start. Rachel is older than she looks and younger than she feels, and she remains convinced that writing about the things that scare her is the cheapest form of therapy—but social media is a close second.

  For more information…

  www.rachelvincent.com

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