Chapter 34 Maeve
MAEVE
Maeve woke to the sensation of a second heartbeat thrumming beneath her ribs.
Her eyes snapped open, panic flaring for half a second before memory crashed in.
The firelight. Dante's hands. The bite that sealed everything.
She pressed her palm flat against her chest, feeling the echo of his pulse keeping time with her own, a rhythm that was pulled by the golden thread that now bound them together.
Bonded. They were actually bonded.
The weight across her waist shifted, and Dante's arm tightened reflexively, pulling her closer against his warmth. They'd moved to the couch at some point during the night, the throw blanket tangled around their legs, morning light painting everything silver through the frosted windows.
She turned her head to study him in sleep. Golden hair falling across his forehead. The strong line of his jaw. The mark she'd left on his collarbone, darker than it had been last night, already healed but permanent. Her lioness purred with deep satisfaction.
Mine.
His eyes opened, amber catching the light, and the smile that curved his mouth made her chest ache. "Morning, Cub."
"Morning." Her voice came out rough with the first words of the day. "You're in my head."
"You're in mine too." He reached up to trace her cheekbone with one finger. "How do you…does it feel?"
It should have been invasive. But not to her. Not to shifters. In fact, she felt… warm. At peace.
She could sense his emotions like flavors on her tongue: contentment, fierce protectiveness, love so deep it made her breath catch. And beneath it all, his lion's steady presence, no longer separate but intertwined with her own.
"It's different than I expected." She sat up slowly, the blanket falling away, suddenly aware of every sensation with shocking clarity. The temperature of the air. The texture of the fabric beneath her. The sound of snow sliding off the roof outside. "Everything's sharper. Clearer."
Dante sat up beside her, his hand finding the small of her back like it belonged there. "Our senses merging, strengthening each other."
She focused inward, testing the new awareness. She could feel his heartbeat matching hers, could sense the exact moment his attention shifted from her face to the mark on her shoulder. The connection thrummed between them, alive and golden and absolutely right.
"I thought I'd feel smaller." The admission came quietly. "Losing myself in someone else's presence."
"And do you?" He turned her face toward him, those eyes seeing straight through to her core.
"No." Wonder colored her voice. "I feel stronger. More powerful even."
"You are." He kissed her forehead, gentle despite the heat beginning to build again in his gaze.
She tested the bond experimentally, pushing a thought toward him. This is insane.
His grin turned wicked. You love it.
Maybe.
Definitely.
She laughed, the sound surprising her with its lightness. "We're never going to have privacy in our own heads again, are we?"
"Probably not." He stood, gloriously unconcerned with his nudity as he stretched, muscles rolling beneath sun-kissed skin. "Though supposedly we'll learn to shield eventually. Give each other space when needed."
"Good." She rose too, ignoring the slight ache in her thighs as she searched for her clothes. "Because I don't need you critiquing my inventory decisions."
"I would never." He pulled on his jeans, watching her dress with obvious appreciation. "Though that ordering system you use could be more efficient."
She threw his sweater at his head.
He caught it with a laugh, tugging it on before crossing to her. His hands settled on her hips, thumbs stroking through the fabric of her own sweater. "How do you feel? Really?"
She considered the question seriously, taking inventory of her body and mind. The bond hummed contentedly. Her lioness had settled into a satisfied purr. And finally, she felt completely at peace.
"Like I finally stopped fighting fate and started working with it." She leaned into his touch. "Like I chose exactly right."
"You did." He kissed her, slow and thorough, pouring everything he felt through the bond until she was dizzy with it.
The front door of the tavern rattled violently.
They broke apart, both tensing before Maeve remembered she'd locked everything last night. The rattling continued, followed by a familiar voice.
"Maeve Cross, I know you're in there!" Twyla's sing-song call carried through the wood. "My fae senses are tingling something fierce, and I brought cocoa!"
"Shit." Maeve looked at Dante, then down at herself. They were dressed at least, but the tavern showed obvious signs of last night's activities. The rumpled rug by the fire. Their abandoned coffee mugs. The distinct scent of sex and magic hanging in the air.
"Too late to pretend we're not here?" Dante asked hopefully.
"She knows." Maeve moved toward the door, finger-combing her hair. "She always knows."
She unlocked the door, and Twyla swept in like a force of nature, her arms full of a tray bearing three steaming mugs and an expression of barely contained glee.
"Good morning, you beautiful, bonded fools." Twyla set the tray on the nearest table, her soft brown eyes sparkling with centuries of fae mischief. "Don't even try to deny it. I can smell the mate bond from the Griddle and Grind."
"We weren't going to deny anything." Maeve crossed her arms, trying for dignity and probably failing. "You could have knocked like a normal person."
"Where's the fun in that?" Twyla's gaze swept the room, taking in every detail with the precision of someone who'd been matchmaking longer than Hollow Oak had existed. Her eyes landed on the rug by the fireplace, and her smile turned absolutely wicked. "Oh, Maeve. Really? My rug?"
Heat flooded Maeve's face. "It's not your rug. It's my tavern's rug."
"That I gifted you three years ago with explicit instructions for proper care." Twyla picked up two of the cocoa mugs, pressing them into Maeve and Dante's hands. "Which I'm fairly certain doesn't include using it as a mating altar."
"We'll buy you a new one," Dante offered, not even trying to hide his grin.
"Damn right you will." But Twyla's expression softened as she studied them, her fae blood making her eyes glow slightly. "Let me see the marks."
Maeve hesitated, then tugged down the neck of her sweater to reveal the bite on her collarbone. Dante did the same, showing the matching mark on his own skin. They were identical: two crescent impressions that glowed faintly gold in the morning light, the universal sign of a completed mate bond.
"Oh, you two." Twyla's voice went uncharacteristically gentle. "They're beautiful. Perfect matches."
Something warm unfurled in Maeve's chest at the approval in those ancient eyes. "You're not surprised."
"Sweetheart, I knew this was coming the day he walked back into town." Twyla sipped her own cocoa, settling into a chair like she planned to stay. "The real question is what took you so long?"
"Stubbornness," Maeve admitted.
"Fear," Dante added, earning a grateful look from her through the bond.
"Both valid reasons until they're not." Twyla waved a dismissive hand. "But you're here now, bonded and glowing like newlyweds, which is lovely. However, I didn't actually come here just to embarrass you about defiling my rug."
"Could have fooled me," Maeve muttered into her cocoa.
"I came to check in about the Solstice Gathering." Twyla's expression turned more serious. "The whole town's buzzing with preparations, but there's an undercurrent. People are nervous. They know something's coming, even if they don't know what."
Maeve exchanged a look with Dante, feeling his concern echo through the bond. "We're handling it."
"I know you are." Twyla stood, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt. "But I wanted to make sure you two were solid before everything gets complicated. A new bond is precious. Vulnerable. You'll need to be careful not to let outside threats fracture what you just built."
"We won't." Dante went to stand beside Maeve, his presence steady and sure. "We're in this together now."
"Good." Twyla's smile returned, warm and genuine.
She swept closer to the door, then paused with her hand on the handle. "Oh, and Maeve? That rug really was expensive. Hand-woven by a master craftsman in the Autumn Court."
"I'll get you two," Maeve promised, fighting a smile.
"One for here, one for your bedroom." Twyla's grin turned absolutely sinful. "Because something tells me you're going to need backup options."
She left in a swirl of laughter and winter air, the door closing behind her with a decisive click.
Silence settled over the tavern, broken only by the crackle of dying embers in the fireplace. Maeve looked at Dante, felt his amusement through the bond, and started laughing.
"We're never going to live this down," she said.
"Probably not." He pulled her close, resting his chin on top of her head. "Worth it though."
She felt his heartbeat against her cheek, the echo of it resonating through their bond, and had to agree. "Yeah. Definitely worth it."
Through the windows, Hollow Oak stirred awake under fresh snow. The Solstice approached with its promises and threats. Hector's plans waited in the shadows. But here, in this moment, wrapped in Dante's arms with the bond humming contentedly between them, Maeve didn’t feel the sharpness of threat.
She felt ready.