“Wargs have their own creation story, and I think it’s time you heard it.” He linked our fingers. “It goes something like this.” He cleared his throat for effect. “The gods created wargs in their image. They were swift and fierce and loyal. One of the gods, Citlali, grew so enamored with their creation that he fell in love with a warrioress. Her name was Zyanya, and she was the most beautiful of all the females. Her fur was silken and the color of silver ingots. Citlali was a fire god, and one day, unable to rein in the impulse, he stroked his hand down her spine and the tips of her fur blackened.” He trailed his fingers down my arm. “Zyanya, who looked to Citlali as a father, was unable to return his affection and told him she had fallen in love with a member of her pack. In his rage, Citlali gripped her—an ear in each fist—and tore her in two. Out of control, he strode through the pack, tearing each member apart.”

I recoiled. “That’s a horrible story.”

“That’s not the best part.” He shushed me. “The other gods were furious that he had destroyed their greatest creation. They tried to put the two halves back together again, but the wargs were indelibly altered.” He lowered his voice. “They remained half wolf and half human. They no longer functioned as one creature but two. From that day on, wargs were either man or beast, but never both.”

And I thought Gemini lore was brutal.

“Once Zyanya had recovered, she petitioned the gods for the right to challenge Citlali, because her chosen mate had been put back together wrong, and she had been forced to take his life to spare him the agony of his deformity.” Graeson paused. “The gods granted her request, and the battle was fierce. Zyanya did a thing no one thought possible and killed Citlali. When he left his mark on her, she became god-touched, a goddess in her own right, and in her rage over losing her mate, she triumphed where they had expected her to fail.”

“So the pack thinks I’m a reincarnation of Zyanya?” I squinted at him. “Why? They know I’m fae.”

“They’ve never seen anything like you.” His smirk told me he liked it that way. “You can tap into the pack bond, you can maintain a half-shift, and even your scent is warg. They’re figuring out what I’ve known all along.”

My eyebrows climbed. “What’s that?”

Mischief sparkled in his eyes, and I knew not to trust what he said next.

Graeson leaned forward, lips brushing my ear, and whispered, “You’re a goddess.”

The burst of laughter that erupted from me caught him in its wake, and we sat there, shoulders bouncing, wheezing, until tears that had needed an excuse to fall pricked my eyes, and I collapsed against Graeson, happy to be in his arms.

* * *