Chapter 39 Dante
DANTE
The Silver Fang roared with life.
Dante surveyed the packed tavern from his position behind the bar, noting the exits, the crowd density, the potential flashpoints where drunk shifters might get rowdy. Old habits died hard, even when the threats were gone and Hollow Oak had settled into peaceful routine.
It had been nine days since the battle. Nine days of healing wounds and rebuilding trust and watching Maeve bloom into the leader she'd always been meant to be.
His ribs no longer screamed with every breath.
His shoulder moved without grinding. And the claw marks on his back had faded to silver lines he'd carry forever.
Worth it.
"Two whiskeys, neat." A wolf shifter leaned against the bar, grinning. "And whatever you're having. Drinks on me for the lion who took on five rogues."
"It was three." Dante poured the whiskeys with practiced efficiency. "And I'm working."
"Still counts." The wolf slid coins across the polished wood. "You and Maeve saved our asses. Least I can do is buy you a drink you won't actually drink."
Dante accepted with a nod, tucking the coins into the register. The gratitude still caught him off guard sometimes. He'd fought for Hollow Oak because it was right, because Maeve needed him, because this town had become home in ways that transcended logic.
But watching the community embrace him as one of their own? That hit differently.
"You're staring again." Maeve appeared at his elbow, her short black hair gleaming in lamplight, her dark gold eyes dancing with amusement. She wore fitted black jeans and a deep red sweater that hugged curves he'd mapped thoroughly over the past week. "People are going to talk."
"Let them." He caught her around the waist, pulling her close despite the crowded bar. "I'm allowed to appreciate my mate."
"Appreciate quietly." But she leaned into him, her hand settling over his heart in that way she had. "We've got three hours until midnight. Try to behave until then."
"No promises." He nipped her ear, grinning when she shivered. "You look too good tonight."
"Flatterer." She pushed away with obvious reluctance. "Back to work. Twyla's giving us the eye."
Sure enough, the fae woman watched from across the room with that knowing smile that meant she'd heard every word despite the noise. Dante raised his glass in mock salute. She laughed and turned back to her customers.
The evening rolled on in waves of laughter and music.
Someone had brought a fiddle. Another produced a guitar.
By ten o'clock, half the tavern was dancing while the other half cheered them on.
Dante worked the bar alongside Maeve, their movements synchronized after days of practice, passing bottles and glasses without needing to speak.
His lion purred contentedly. This was right. This was home.
At eleven, he caught Kieran's eye and nodded toward the back room. The tiger shifter understood immediately, following him through the kitchen to the small office where Dante had been hiding his project.
"It's finished?" Kieran asked, closing the door behind them.
"This morning." Dante pulled the small wooden box from his desk drawer, opening it to reveal the pendant inside.
Two lions carved from dark oak, their bodies intertwined in an eternal circle, no beginning and no end.
He'd spent the past nine days working on it between patrols and bar shifts, his hands remembering skills his father had taught him decades ago.
The detail was intricate: individual whiskers, the texture of manes, the curve of tails wrapped together.
"Damn." Kieran picked it up carefully, studying it in the lamplight. "This is incredible work."
"Think she'll like it?" Dante heard the uncertainty in his own voice and hated it. He'd faced down rogues without flinching, but the thought of Maeve rejecting this had him more twisted.
"She'll love it." Kieran handed it back with a grin. "And if she says no, I'll eat my own tail."
"Reassuring." Dante tucked the pendant into his pocket, feeling its weight against his thigh. "How'd you do it? With Freya?"
"Badly." Kieran laughed. "Stammered like an idiot and nearly dropped the ring twice. But she said yes anyway, so apparently sincerity beats grace."
"Good to know." Dante clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Thanks for the pep talk."
"That's what pride brothers do." Kieran's expression turned serious. "You're family now, Dante. All of us. Don't forget that."
"I won't."
They returned to the main room where the countdown had begun organizing. Twyla distributed champagne glasses while Cora and Callum hung the final decorations. Someone had strung mistletoe above the bar entrance, the white berries gleaming like tiny moons.
Perfect.
Dante found Maeve near the fireplace, laughing at somethingMoira said while Freya showed off her daughter's latest drawing. She looked radiant in the firelight, her face flushed from heat and happiness, completely at ease in her element.
His lioness. His mate. His future.
He crossed to her, ignoring the knowing looks from their friends. "Can I steal you for a minute?"
"Depends." She tilted her head, playful. "Are you stealing me for appropriate reasons or inappropriate reasons?"
"Appropriate." He laced his fingers with hers. "Mostly."
She let him pull her toward the bar entrance, positioning them directly under the mistletoe. The crowd around them had started to notice, conversations dropping to interested murmurs.
"Dante." Maeve's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you doing?"
"Following tradition." He reached into his pocket, pulling out the pendant. "And asking a question."
Her breath caught when she saw what he held. The carved lions gleamed in lamplight, catching every detail he'd labored over. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached out to touch them.
"You made this?" Her voice came out barely a whisper.
"Spent nine days getting it right." He opened the clasp, holding it up so she could see how the lions fit together perfectly. "Two alphas. Equal strength. Choosing to stand together instead of fighting alone."
"Dante." Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
"I know we're already mated." He kept his voice steady despite his heart hammering. "The bond's sealed. We're connected for life. But I want more than that, Maeve. I want the choice, the ceremony, the promise in front of everyone who matters."
He went down on one knee, ignoring the collective gasp from the watching crowd. "I want to marry you. Build a life with you. Stand beside you through whatever comes next. No crown, no chains, just us choosing each other every single day."
The tavern had gone completely silent. Even the fire seemed to hold its breath.
Maeve stared down at him, her dark gold eyes bright with emotions he could feel echoing between them. Love. Fear. Hope. Joy.
"Yes." The word came out fierce and sure. "Yes, I'll marry you."
The tavern erupted in cheers as he surged to his feet, catching her mouth in a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back with everything she had while their friends and neighbors celebrated around them.
When they finally broke apart, he fastened the pendant around her neck with hands that only shook slightly. The carved lions settled against her collarbone, right above her mate mark, gleaming like they belonged there.
"It's perfect." She touched it reverently. "You're perfect."
"I'm really not." He pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers. "But I'm yours."
"Damn right you are." She kissed him again, softer this time. "My future husband." Her smile turned wicked. "Getting ideas already?"
"So many ideas." He nipped her jaw. "Most of them inappropriate for public."
"Good thing we live upstairs."
"Someone start the countdown!" Twyla's voice carried over the noise. "We've got one minute to midnight!"
The crowd began counting together, champagne glasses raised, voices blending into joyful chaos. Dante kept Maeve tucked against his side, his hand splayed possessively over her hip.
"Sixty! Fifty-nine! Fifty-eight!"
"Any New Year's resolutions?" Maeve asked, her fingers playing with the pendant.
"Just one." He kissed her temple. "Make you happy every day for the rest of our lives."
"That's ambitious." But her voice went soft. "Mine's easier. Let you."
"Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!"
Around them, couples paired off. Callum dipped Cora dramatically, making her laugh. Kieran pulled Freya close. Even Lucien allowed Moira to drag him under the mistletoe, his usual scowl melting into something almost tender.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!"
Dante cupped Maeve's face, memorizing this moment. The warmth of her skin. The gold in her eyes. The way she looked at him like he hung the stars.
"Seven! Six! Five!"
"I love you."
"I love you," she answered.
"Four! Three! Two! One!"
"Happy New Year!"
The tavern exploded with noise and celebration. Dante kissed his mate, his lioness, his future wife, tasting joy and forever on her lips. The pendant gleamed between them, two lions eternally entwined.
No beginning. No end. Just choice, freely made and fiercely kept.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and grinning, Maeve pressed her hand over his heart.
"Best year ever." She declared. "And it just started."
"Going to be even better." He promised, meaning it absolutely. "Every year after this."
She believed him. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she leaned into him like he was home.
And maybe that was the real magic of Hollow Oak. Not the Veil or the prophecies or the fated mates.
But the choice to love fearlessly. To stand together. To build something worth protecting.
He'd spent a decade running from that truth.
Now, with Maeve in his arms and their future stretching bright before them, he'd never run again.