My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

"Why so jumpy?" Lucas smirked.

August rolled her eyes. "How do you seem to be everywhere?" she asked.

"That's my job," he shrugged, falling into step next to her. "Even if you're marked, Graeme shouldn't leave you alone," his eyebrows drew together.

"Afraid I'm going to attack someone?" she scoffed.

He turned to look at her in amusement. "Were you planning on it?" August answered with a glare, and he laughed. "No. Don't get me wrong. I'm suspicious as fuck about you. But I don't exactly want to see you hurt either."

"You don't?" That was hard to believe.

"What do you think I am? A monster?" He laughed again.

"Who would hurt me then?" she stopped abruptly, turning to scan him, but he went silent. "At the outpost—you wanted me gone."

"I didn't know you were his mate," his eyes narrowed. "Don't mistake my actions. I protect this pack. If Graeme comes back with his mate, that job only gets easier. And things get better. For everyone."

"You can't stand Graeme," August scoffed again.

"I can't stand him because he fucking left," Lucas hissed before straightening and looking around. He sighed heavily before turning his eyes back to her. "If you go any further, you're going to leave the market. Don't. Go to the stand there with the scarves and wait for him to find you. They're nice, honest people. And be smart. If you are who Graeme believes you are, we all need you in one fucking piece," he growled. And with that, he left.

August stood there stunned, trying to make sense of his words. So she was in danger here. Or at least, Lucas believed so. He was probably referring to Marius. That had to be it. After all, he worked with Marius. He had probably seen how volatile he had become.

August let out a slow breath, convincing herself that was the extent of it. The threat Lucas was referring to was buried in the mud with a dead man. Besides, if Lucas didn't want August hurt, who else was there really? Maybe this conversation with Lucas was actually a promising sign. Or maybe the elders were already planning to secretly remove her…

August felt her eyes prick in fear with that thought, and she looked around at the people in the market cautiously. She didn't want to fear them. Sylvia and Greta said most would be welcoming, and she genuinely wanted to gain their trust. This is where Graeme had grown up. This was Graeme's pack. And for some reason, she was meant to be here with them.

With this thought, she took a deep breath and imagined all the beautiful, vibrant energy of this place that was buzzing around her. The Veiled that Charlotte had talked about. It was not a good time to open herself to it, but even without seeing it, she could feel it. Things here were good. They were safe. Everything was going to be okay.

Lucas had directed August to a tent with handwoven cotton scarves, shawls, tunics, jackets, ruanas, and blankets. August stood marveling at the beautiful colors and textures of everything and the obvious care that went into their creation.

"Oh my," an elderly man said, catching sight of August in his tent. "Oh my, oh my. You are August, are you not?" He approached her slowly, his back bent with age.

"I am," she smiled warmly.

"Oh my. Oh my," he repeated.

"Woody, what is it?" A short elderly woman appeared from behind the back of the tent.

"Clara, our future Luna is here," he answered with his gravely voice.

August opened her mouth to protest, but the little woman named Clara had already seized her arm and pulled her further in. "Graeme's mate?" Clara was beaming. "Praise the Goddess. And you are a beauty, too. Look at you. So fair. You and Graeme will have beautiful, beautiful pups. Such a handsome young man. He always has been. I'm so happy to have lived to see the day. Bless you, dear. Bless you," the woman continued, and August fell utterly speechless.

"It would be an honor, truly, to have you wear something of ours. You must take a ruana and a tunic. And a scarf for the winter. And some shawls, of course. Which brooch is most befitting our future Luna, Woody?" the woman turned to her mate who was still bent over, watching August in awe.

Woody turned to the table of brooches as Clara began searching through the folded fabric, pulling out a beautiful triple weight cotton ruana made in the colors of the sky at dawn and draping it over August's shoulders. "Yes, it's lovely. What do you think about this scarlet one, too?" Clara asked as she pulled out folded red fabric that was muted with purple and black threads running through it.

"You must have a white one for winter, as well, but I don't have any with me here. Come back in a few weeks when I bring the winter colors out. The aspen will look lovely on you," Clara said, handing August the red garment and searching next through the shawls.

"These are so beautiful. Do you make them by hand?" August asked, trying to distract the woman from her task of finding even more to offer her.

"Oh yes. It is a family affair. Our children and grandchildren help. Our brooches are hand crafted as well. Make sure her brooch is sterling silver, Woody," Clara turned again to her mate. "The metal of the Moon Goddess."

When Graeme appeared in the tent, he smirked at the sight of August draped in a scarlet ruana with a tall stack of garments in her arms while the elderly couple were still fussing over her. August looked overwhelmed, and he reached over to take the pile from her hands.

"Clara, Woody," he said. "Are you spoiling my mate?" The dimple appeared behind his beard, and relief washed over August's face feeling him again beside her.

"Oh good, Graeme," Clara looked up from the table she was sorting. "I have some things for you, too."

"Perhaps we should get them a bag, Clara," Woody suggested, and Clara waved him on. Graeme and August's eyes met as they shared in the amusement of watching the older couple.