The sea air tasted like freedom to Della and Alexander. The family needed a break from everything, to reconnect, to remember who they were.
Crescent Moon had taken over their lives completely. But now, as the white shutters came into view and the scent of salt and sun-warmed wood drifted across the sand, Della exhaled for what felt like the first time in weeks.
The house sat on a bluff overlooking the Pacific, its wide deck wrapped in driftwood railings and sea glass wind chimes. It overlooked the beach where she and Alexander had met for the first time, and held memories of a simpler time.
It had been Della's escape, from the judgmental eyes of werewolf society.
Now, it was their retreat, a place where they weren't royalty, and no one looked to them for answers.
After the crazy turns life had taken, they'd earned it. That's what Della told herself, when she felt pangs of guilt leaving her pack in the midst of such uncertainty.
