Epilogue
TORAIN
The carved wooden sign along the back wall refused to hang straight no matter how many times I adjusted it. Scowling, I nudged the left side up a fraction of an inch. The morning sun caught the gold leaf inlay, making “Sombra Mountain Artisans” shine against the polished wood.
Not perfect, but not bad.
I surveyed the small storefront once more, stomach flipping. Sunlight poured through the front window, lighting up the dining set like some lost relic at the end of a trying quest. I’d spent weeks getting the details right—the way the grain flowed through each piece, the balance of traditional clan patterns with elements that would appeal to human customers. Custom shelving units lined the walls and displayed work from other clan artisans, carefully arranged to catch the light.
The bell above the door chimed. Carissa’s scent—cinnamon and vanilla—wrapped around me before I turned. She balanced a drink carrier from Bean Me Up in one hand and a box of Poppy’s pastries in the other.
“You’re early.” I grinned as she set everything on the counter. “Soft opening’s not for another hour.”
“Please. Like I’d trust you to arrange everything properly without supervision.” She pecked my cheek, then immediately began adjusting a display I’d spent twenty minutes perfecting. “This one’s crooked.”
I wrapped my arms around her waist, nuzzling the claiming mark on her neck. “Sure you’re not just making excuses to get me alone before everyone shows up?”
“That was one time.” She elbowed me playfully. “And we agreed never to do… that on the clock again.”
“Three times.” I nipped her ear, remembering how she’d writhed against the stockroom shelves, biting her lip to stay quiet as I filled her. The way she’d bent over the counter after hours, her skirt hiked up while I drove into her from behind. And fuck, the sight of her spread across my workbench, hair wild and tits bouncing with each thrust while she begged me to fuck her deeper. “But who’s counting?”
“Not you, obviously.” But she melted against me anyway, and her scent thickened with distractingly sweet arousal. “Anything I can help with?”
“I’m almost ready.” I glanced out the front window. The location near the town square hadn’t been cheap, but it gave me the visibility and foot traffic. I ran through the checklist in my head one last time—showroom straightened, website updated to work in the current century, flyers and social media posts advertising the location. Everything was in place for the clan’s next big venture.
Carissa excused herself to freshen up before everyone arrived, though not a hair had escaped her perfect twist. Pure Carissa—using a nonexistent imperfection as an excuse to calm her nerves. At least she hadn’t been up until dawn stress-baking like during the bookstore’s reopening following Tate’s attack.
I watched her disappear into the back, admiring how her pencil skirt hugged her curves. Even after mating, the sight of her still hit me like the first time. The sway of her hips had me considering following her, inching that skirt higher until?—
The bell chimed startled me from my thoughts. Osen’s massive frame filled the doorway, Miranda trailing close behind. My brother’s eyes swept the space approvingly, but Miranda’s usual bright energy seemed dimmed. She offered a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“About time you let me in here. No more excuses about it not being tidy or fit for visitors.” Osen moved between displays, nodding with approval. “Though I see you put my commission in the back corner.”
“Best spot for it.” I grinned at my brother’s mock offense. “Draws people through the whole store.”
“Tactical.” He chuckled. “And here I thought you were just hiding it out of spite.”
The easy banter settled something in my chest. Here was my chief, my brother, treating my store opening like any other clan milestone—expected, supported, celebrated. No grand speeches, just the same teasing we’d shared since childhood.
“Miranda!” Carissa emerged from the back, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she crossed the store. “Just the person I needed to see about that new display for the bookstore.”
As Carissa drew a tired-looking Miranda aside, I pulled Osen toward the back. “Everything okay? Miranda looks like she’s seen a ghost.”
Osen’s jaw tightened. “She sensed unfamiliar magic near clan territory yesterday. Too close to be the Silvermist coven.”
Unease trickled through me. The timing couldn’t be coincidence—not with the store opening, not when I’d chosen to build a life with Carissa in Silvermist Falls. My mind raced with everything that could go wrong while I was down here arranging displays instead of up there with my brother. What if the clan needed me? What if something happened because I wasn’t there to help Osen? The store suddenly felt like an indulgence, a selfish dream when I should be?—
“Stop.” Osen’s grip on my shoulder tightened. “We’re handling it. You focus on this. Let your chief worry about the rest.”
Before I could argue, heavy boots stomped through the door. Galan took one look around and made a sound like he’d bitten into something sour. But he still set one of his carved sword stands on the front table before retreating to demolish Poppy’s pastries.
Zral bounded in behind him, already critiquing my display choices. “Do weapon racks really belong on the dining table? You might want to move?—”
“Touch anything and lose fingers.” I growled, but without heat. Having my clan here, even if just to give me shit, settled the last of my nerves.
I caught Carissa’s eye across the store and grinned. She’d become such a natural part of my life that sometimes I forgot there was ever a time without her here. From the moment I’d mentioned opening the storefront, she’d thrown herself into supporting it—sharing her business experience, challenging my plans until they were stronger, believing in this dream as much as she believed in her own store. Hard to imagine this was the same woman who’d arrived in Silvermist with one foot already out the door, determined to settle her aunt’s estate and flee back to Seattle.
Now here she was, my mate, making this town and our life here better just by being exactly who she was.
“Ready?” she asked softly.
I looked around one last time. At my brother and his mate. At Galan pretending not to care and Zral rearranging displays when he thought no one was looking. At everything I’d built here.
“Yeah.” I squeezed her hand. “Let’s do this.”
She flipped the sign to “Open” with a flourish, then immediately straightened it. I caught her hand before she could adjust it again.
“It’s perfect,” I murmured against her ear.
“Sap.” But she squeezed my fingers. “Though Galan’s sword thing is crooked.”
I laughed and pulled her close, ignoring Galan’s exaggerated gagging sounds. Maybe trouble was brewing in Grimstone. Maybe balancing clan and town would be harder than anything else I’d ever attempted. But I’d take every step with my perfectly organized mate at my side.
For now, though, I had a store to open. And if I occasionally got distracted watching Carissa fuss over crooked displays... well, that was just part of the charm.
“You’re staring,” she called over her shoulder.
“Can’t help it.” I grinned. “You’re sexy when you’re organizing things.”
Her laugh wrapped around me like sunshine as my first customer walked in. I moved to adjust the display she’d mentioned, then stopped myself.
Some things were perfect exactly as they were.
Even if they weren’t quite straight.