Chapter 8
EIGHT
CASSIA
Cassia’s throat tightened. She wanted to believe it. Gods, she wanted to believe it so badly. But wanting had never gotten her anywhere except disappointed.
“His assistant arrived yesterday,” she said instead. “Delos. Fire dragon, about a hundred years old. Looks like he’s in his early twenties. He’s…” She searched for a word. “Charming. Easy. Everything Aero isn’t.”
“Ooh.” Junie perked up. “Fire dragon? Is he cute?”
“You’re mated.”
“I’m mated, not blind. Leo knows I appreciate attractive supernatural creatures. It’s like art appreciation, but with more muscles.”
Dahlia snorted. “That’s definitely what it is.”
“Delos is—yes, fine, he’s objectively attractive.” Cassia reclaimed her wine and took a fortifying sip. “He also spent our entire first interaction grinning at me like he knew something I didn’t. Kept looking between me and Aero with this smug expression.”
“What kind of smug expression?” Narla asked.
“The kind that says he’s keeping score on something.” Cassia thought about it more carefully. “Or waiting for something to happen. Like he’s got front-row seats to a show.”
The silence that followed was loaded with meaning.
“What?” Cassia looked around the room. “What was that silence?”
“Nothing,” Avine said too quickly.
“It wasn’t nothing. That was a significant silence. An ‘I know something you don’t know’ silence.”
“It’s possible,” Dahlia said carefully, “that Delos sees something happening between you and Aero that you’re not ready to acknowledge.”
“There’s nothing happening between me and Aero. We argue about data and avoid touching each other because every time we do, something electrical happens.” The moment the words left her mouth, she realized how they sounded.
Junie’s grin could have powered the entire ward system. “Something electrical happens. When you touch. Each other.”
“Not like—it’s not—” Cassia set down her wine before she threw it at someone. “It’s a magical interference issue. His dragon produces lightning. I’m a storm witch. When we get too close, the energies cross and create actual discharge. We almost fried the monitoring equipment yesterday.”
“Right.” Junie nodded sagely. “Magical interference. That’s definitely what it is.”
“I hate all of you.”
“You love us.” Junie bounced to her feet and threw an arm around Cassia’s shoulders.
“And we love you. Which is why we’re telling you that this entire situation screams ‘supernatural mating energy’ and you should maybe consider the possibility that the cold, arrogant dragon is interested in you specifically rather than just your data. ”
Cassia’s heart did something complicated. “That’s—no. That’s not possible. He’s been alive longer than most civilizations. Why would he suddenly—”
“Sometimes it just takes the right person,” Avine said softly.
Her hand found Cassia’s. “Theo didn’t claim anyone for 150 years before me.
Leo had walls so high, Junie needed a battering ram to get through.
Cal…” She glanced at Dahlia, who smiled.
“Cal was convinced he’d never have anything good because he didn’t deserve it. ”
“The pattern is pretty clear,” Dahlia added. “Stubborn supernatural males who’ve convinced themselves they can’t have love meet equally stubborn women who prove them wrong. It’s kind of our thing in Haven Shores.”
Cassia wanted to argue. Wanted to list all the reasons this was different, why she wasn’t the kind of person who got fairy-tale mate bonds and happily-ever-afters.
But Gust chose that moment to launch himself from the mantelpiece in a flurry of dark wings, swooping directly toward the end table where Narla had set her plate of cheese and crackers.
“Gust, no—”
Too late. The storm petrel snagged a cracker in his beak and retreated to the curtain rod, radiating smug satisfaction.
Mine, he sent through their bond. You were ignoring me.
“I was not ignoring you.”
Were too. Talking about the oversized lizard instead of paying attention to me.
“Oh my god.” Cassia pressed her fingers to her temples. “You’re jealous of the dragon.”
Am not. Just don’t like him. He looks at you wrong.
“Wrong how?”
Like he wants to devour you. A pause. Not in the bird way.
Color flooded her cheeks. The cracker-thief on the curtain rod had absolutely no right to make observations like that.
Narla, who had watched the entire exchange with quiet amusement, reached for a new cracker. “Your familiar isn’t wrong, you know. Dragons are predators. When they look at something they want, it’s… distinctive.”
“I don’t want to talk about how Aero looks at me.”
“Fair enough.” Narla’s expression shifted, losing its warmth. “Then perhaps we should talk about the other visitor I noticed at the harbor this morning.”
The atmosphere in the room changed. Cassia felt it—a subtle drop in temperature, a heaviness in the air that had nothing to do with weather magic.
“What visitor?” Avine asked.
“A woman. Tall. Beautiful in a way that made it hard to look away.” Narla’s fingers tightened on her wine glass. “I was walking past the marina when I saw her stepping off a boat. Every candle in my shop flared when she passed, even though she was two streets over.”
“What kind of supernatural?” Dahlia leaned forward, her baker’s calm replaced by something sharper.
“I couldn’t tell for certain. But the feeling she gave off…” Narla shook her head slowly. “Old. Powerful. Dangerous.” Her dark eyes met Cassia’s. “And she smelled like the deep ocean. Like brine and cold currents and things that live where the light doesn’t reach.”
Junie went still. All the playful energy drained from her posture, replaced by the sharp alertness she’d developed after Victor Sable had tried to destroy her relationship with Leo. “A siren.”
“Possibly.” Narla’s voice was careful. “I’ve never met one, so I can’t say for certain. But the descriptions match.”
“Sirens in Haven Shores are unusual,” Avine said slowly. “We’re coastal, but we’ve never had much contact with the Deepwater Courts. They keep to themselves.”
“Maybe she’s just passing through.” Dahlia’s tone suggested she didn’t believe her own words.
“Maybe.” Junie was already pulling out her phone, tapping rapidly. “But I’m sending a message to Leo. The Castellan network has contacts in the siren communities. If someone from the Deepwater Courts is visiting Haven Shores, he might be able to find out why.”
“You think she’s a threat?” Cassia asked.
“I think Victor Sable taught me that charming strangers who show up during crisis periods are never just passing through. The surge is attracting attention. We’ve had three successful mate bonds in the past year—that’s unprecedented.
If someone from another court is here to investigate…
” She shrugged. “Could be harmless. Could be political. Could be something worse.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Narla offered. “My shop is near the harbor. If she’s staying in town, I’ll notice.”
“We should all watch,” Avine agreed. “But quietly. If she’s a legitimate representative from the Deepwater Courts, we don’t want to cause a diplomatic incident by treating her like an enemy.”
The conversation shifted to practical matters—schedules, observation rotations, who would mention what to which alpha. Haven Shores had become adept at coordinating since the surge started, witches and shifters working in tandem in ways they never had before.
Cassia listened with half an ear, her thoughts drifting back to the dragon who’d taken up residence in her mind. He was investigating the surge too. If anyone might know why a siren would be interested in Haven Shores, it would be him.
Which meant she’d have to ask him.
Which meant another conversation. More proximity. More charge building between them.
More of feeling seen by storm-dark eyes that she absolutely wasn’t going to think about for the rest of the night.