There’s a comfy chair right next to the fireplace in the main living area of Brookstone. It has become my favorite place to sit. I can sit there for hours and do absolutely nothing but stare out the window at the beautiful forest and sparkling lake. It’s amazing to me to think how far I’ve come in just a year and a few months.
I don’t just sit around and do nothing, though. I haven’t had to use my magic to fight off any other mages or shifters since we destroyed Grimly Grouse and his evil minions, but I do use my magic sometimes for other things, like producing presents for my friends or making mythical creatures to entertain us.
Brookstone is as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside. Part of that is the fact that we modernized it and redecorated a lot of the rooms. We wanted all of the modern conveniences we were used to, but we didn’t ruin the amb
Thank you so much for reading Mage of Wolves! It's been a labor of love over the last eight months! If you'd like for me to write a sequel someday and continue Harlow and Sam's story, let me know in the comments or review. I appreciate all of you so much! If you liked this book, you might also enjoy my other book, Sold to the Alpha. Thank you!
I still remember the first time I saw them. At the time, I had no idea how significant it would be in changing the direction of my life, but within a matter of weeks from that day, it became quite clear that a turning point had occurred. I probably should’ve recognized the importance when it happened. It’s not as if it was an ordinary event, after all, but at the time, I chalked it up to something strange, something unexpected, and went on about my day. Until the next afternoon when everything began to change, and my life spiraled out of control.
On my seventeenth birthday, I went to school as usual. I didn’t have a lot of friends, but I had two really good ones. Mara is one of the smartest people I know, and Vicky is one of the funniest. We were inseparable, relying on each other to get us through long school days with lots of kids who thought they were better than us for ridiculous reasons, like the brand of their jeans or the logo on their shoes. We didn’t go to a ritzy school by any means, but in California, everyone is concerned about things like that--everyone but us, I guess. I couldn’t imagine making it through high school without Mara and Vicky by my side, and I know they felt exactly the same was as
Grayson was sitting on a swing at the local playground, about four blocks from our house. Normally, I might’ve poked fun at her, squeezing her too large frame into the seat obviously designed for a much smaller girl, but today, I said nothing, only sat down on the swing next to her, waiting for her to speak. I knew, given time, she would say something.It took
The drive from California to Montana was slow and tedious, not because it was really that far in the large scheme of things, but because none of us wanted to go. Even my parents, who weren’t in the same vehicle but talked on the phone several times on the trip, had a tone of melancholy in their voices that Grayson and I were unable to miss. It was quite clear that they were just going through the motions. Whatever had sparked this sudden, necessary move, it wasn’t something my mom or my stepdad was thrilled about either.
The view outside of the van window shifted and changed, becoming more forested as we got closer to Grandma Angnes’s house. The roads worsened as our surroundings changed, going from paved interstate highways to asphalt, to gravel, and now, we were on a winding dirt path that was so narrow, should another vehicle come in our direction, there wouldn’t be any place to go. I was thankful the likelihood of two cars trying to use this road at the same time was slim to none--there simply weren’t many people out this way.
Grandma’s house did smell more like burning wood in the spring than it did in the summer, but seated in her kitchen, a cup of warm milk in my hands, it was the scent of baking gingerbread that filled my lungs. When Grandma had announced she was making her famous cookies, Mom had reminded her that it wasn’t Christmas. Grandma Agnes had shrugged and said, “Gingerbread cookies can be for any special occasion, dear. Haven't I taught you anything?”
Both Grayson and I stared at Grandma Agnes for the longest time after she made that statement--wolves have everything to do with everything. What was that supposed to mean? It took me so long to formulate that question, or any other, that my mother appeared at the foot of the stairs. We couldn’t see her, not yet, but we could hear her footsteps. When she ducked into the kitchen, my eyes went to her face.
The forest around my grandmother’s was alive, just as she had mentioned. It wasn’t just one creature that opened my eyes to the life around me, but dozens, and the further I walked away from the cottage, the more I could see exactly what she was speaking of.Squirrels darted from tree to tree. Birds fluttered above me, calling out to one another as they circled