Chapter 9 - Dani
Dani woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon.
For a few disorienting seconds, she didn’t know where she was. Timbered ceiling, not plaster. A mattress that dipped where someone heavier had slept for years.
Not the compound.
Arthur’s house.
The Anchor. The not-quite-argument. You’re mine. She’s mine. His quiet, impossible come home with me tonight.
Her saying yes.
She groaned and scrubbed her face. Brilliant. Another terrible decision starring Arthur Wells.
The bed was warm. The room was quiet. She could roll over and pretend, for an hour, that none of this had happened.
Downstairs, Aurelia laughed.
The sound was light and startled and…happy.
Dani was already out of bed.
She dragged on leggings and the flannel shirt from the chair, twisted her hair into a knot. The bite on her neck twinged as she straightened, the bond humming, pulling toward its source.
Arthur. Calm. Awake. Watchful. Closer than he’d felt in ten years.
She opened the door.
The alpha house felt different from the compound, the hallway wood worn smooth by years of shoulders, crooked photos, and old sketches on the walls, a side table cluttered with keys, a scarf, and a carved wolf.
A home.
She went downstairs, avoiding the creaky third step she remembered from teenage escapes.
“So…you turn into a bear?” Aurelia’s voice floated up, eager, fascinated.
Dani winced.
“Wolf,” Arthur corrected, patient. “They just call me the Ice Bear.”
“Oh. Can I see?”
“Not in the kitchen,” he said, amusement under the gravel. “Another time. Outside.”
“Promise?”
Dani leaned into the doorway.
Arthur stood at the stove, frying pan in hand, hair tied back, barefoot in a worn T-shirt and sweats. Aurelia sat at the big wooden table, legs swinging, chin shiny with syrup, watching him intently as he flipped another pancake.
He glanced over at her daughter’s question, then saw Dani.
He went still. The bond tugged, sharp and bright.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” she managed.
Aurelia twisted round, lighting up. “Mom! Look, he can cook.”
“I am multi-talented,” Arthur said dryly. “Sit. Eat. Then you can judge.”
It was domestic. That was the problem. Alpha at the stove. Her kid relaxed. Sun catching dust motes in the air.
It seemed dangerous.
“Why don’t you go and unpack while I talk to Arthur?” Dani said to Aurelia, forcing lightness.
“Can I?” Auri asked Arthur, like he was the one who decided.
He nodded. “Chase brought your bags early this morning; they’re in the hallway. If he messed it up, I’ll make him fix it.”
Aurelia slid down, grabbed half a piece of toast. As she passed, she whispered, “He makes really good eggs.”
“Traitor,” Dani muttered, fond despite herself.
Then Auri thudded upstairs, humming.
Silence dropped into the kitchen.
Arthur turned off the gas, put the pan aside, and leaned on the counter, watching her. Movement that said he’d done this a hundred times. Without her.
“Sleep all right?” he asked.
“Well enough,” she said. “The bed’s…comfortable.”
“Belonged to my parents,” he said. “My father always said it was too soft for his back.” His mouth twitched. “He’d be thrilled a witch’s spine survived it.”
“If that’s your idea of a joke, you’re rustier than I thought.”
“Didn’t get much practice,” he said.
She didn’t smile.
“Arthur,” she said.
He straightened a little.
“Why am I here?” Dani asked. “Really.”
“I told you—”
“Yes, yes, to keep me safe. You could’ve thrown guards at the compound. Instead, you brought me and my daughter into your house. Why?”
He held her gaze, wolf-alert and assessing.
“You’re my mate,” he said finally. “She’s my blood. Pack or no pack, I want you where I can hear if anything goes wrong.”
“I’m not ungrateful,” she said carefully, “but…we should talk about what all this means. I mean, aren’t I Luna?”
His jaw flexed. “I…haven’t thought about it.”
“I told you last night, Arthur,” she said, moving closer, “I’m a witch. I’ll always be a witch. Whatever happens…I won’t let you take that away.”
“I don’t want to take it away.”
“But you wish I weren’t a witch. Don’t try and deny it. You flinch every time I do magic.”
“I don’t flinch.”
“You did, in The Anchor,” she said quietly. “And Aurelia saw. I don’t want her growing up like I did, believing she’s less-than for being a witch. That’s got to be worse than being ostracised for not being able to shift.”
His teeth bared as he looked down into the skillet, jaw tight, muscles bunching. She had a sudden, ridiculous urge to comfort him, but she held firm. He knew what she had gone through growing up. And now, he hated her magic. She refused to compromise her daughter’s childhood.
“I grew up with one set of stories,” he said. “I’m trying to unlearn them. That doesn’t happen overnight.”
“I’m not asking you to flip a switch,” she said.
“I’m asking what you expect from me while you work through your issues.
Do you want me as window dressing while you and the other alphas decide what to do about the hybrids?
I pour coffee while you talk about witches like we’re weapons, decide our fate for us in the fight to come? ”
He winced.
“Your place in the pack is…” he grimaced. “Complicated.”
“I’d noticed.”
“I don’t know what it looks like yet,” he said. “Every luna before you was wolf. They ran the houses, kept the females in line, backed the alpha in public, shouted at him in private.” His gaze flicked to her mouth, then up. “You could do that. If you wanted.”
“Lead your women and bake pies?” she said. “You’ve met me, right?”
“The baking would be new,” he admitted.
She folded her arms. “I’m not saying I won’t help. I am saying I won’t lend you my power, that of my sisters, keeping your house for you while you keep hating what I am in your bones.”
They stared at each other. The bond hummed, needy and useless.
“I don’t hate you,” he said at last, rough. “I hate what witches did here. That’s different.”
“Doesn’t feel different from this side,” she murmured.
He moved to the coffee pot, poured a mug, and slid it over. Truce offering.
She took it. The first sip was strong enough to make her eyes water. “You need sugar.”
“I need to be awake,” he said. “Too much going on to get fancy.”
“How many more are coming?” she asked.
“Juneau delegation today. A couple of small packs tomorrow. Severney stragglers. More witches, if Lavinia hasn’t scared them off.” His mouth twitched. “Vampire emissary landed last night. Dom and Rory have them tucked away.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I didn’t see them at the bar last night.”
“They’re not fans of witches either,” he said. “This whole town is a powder keg.”
“You think it’s going to go bad.”
He exhaled through his nose, “I…I need to focus on the summit. On keeping everyone from tearing each other apart. I can’t be everywhere. And I don’t have a neat plan for where you fit in all that. Yet.”
“But you’ve got ideas for witches in general,” she said.
He didn’t deny it.
“You’re a resource,” he said bluntly. “Your coven is. So are the others. You see what we can’t. You ward what we can’t. Whatever’s pulling strings on hybrids is using magic. We need magic too, or we’re fighting blind.”
Fear edged the words. Real fear.
She set the mug down. “So I’m a tool.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t need to.”
He scrubbed his face. “I’m saying I need time.
To sort out what I was taught from what’s actually in front of me.
I’ve got witches in my town, wolves twitchy, vampires sniffing round the harbor, and a summit that might decide if half our packs survive.
I can’t fix us and a hundred years of bad blood over breakfast.”
That honesty took some of the heat out of her anger.
“What do you need from me?” she asked, quieter.
He blinked, like he hadn’t expected that.
“I need you not to run,” he said. “When it gets ugly. I need you to get Lavinia to keep her witches from blowing anyone up. I need you alive. I need Aurelia safe while I deal with everything coming over the mountain.”
“No pressure,” she muttered.
“You asked.” His mouth eased. “And…I’d like you to meet some of the old pack today. Wolves who remember you from before. Who aren’t just seeing the Salem witch.”
Her heart tripped.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because this is your home now,” he said simply. “Whether you like it or not. And because if you’re going to be Luna, the pack needs to decide if they trust you. And you need to decide if you care.”
She hesitated. Part of her wanted to hide at Thistlehouse with her sisters. Part of her wanted to walk into those old wolves’ dens and make them see her properly this time.
“Fine,” she said. “We’ll go. Aurelia should meet them. She deserves to know where half her blood comes from.”
He nodded, gaze flicking up the stairs. “She asked me last night if she was a princess.”
Dani snorted. “What did you say?”
“Absolutely not. Princesses are boring.”
Her laugh startled both of them.
He nodded toward the hall. “Dom wants a quick meeting with the alphas before lunch. Julian’s got new hybrid intel, apparently.
After that, we’ll go to some of the higher-ranking Nordan.
You’ve got the morning to settle in. Ward your room.
Show Aurelia the house. There’s a library upstairs. You’ll like it.”
There it was again, that easy attempt at playing happy families. It felt like some sort of joke.
“And my place in this house?” she asked softly.
“Your room’s yours,” he said. “Aurelia’s room’s hers. You eat at this table. You come and go as you like, as long as you tell me if you’re leaving town.” His jaw clenched. “You’re not a guest. You’re not a prisoner.”
“What am I, then?” she pushed.
He swallowed. “Family,” he said roughly. “If you’ll have it.”
The word lodged in her chest.
Upstairs, Aurelia whooped about something—a huge window, by the sound of it.
There was still steel in Arthur’s eyes when he said ‘witches.’ Still, that instinctive flinch at magic. He was still all duty, wrapped so tight she wondered if anything could uncoil him.
Disappointment pricked, sharp and unfair. He’d told her who he was a decade ago. She was the one who’d hoped.
She hid her mouth behind the mug. “We’ll see,” she said.
His shoulders dipped a fraction. “We’ll see,” he echoed.
“Mom!” Aurelia yelled. “You have to come see this window! It’s, like, huge!”
Dani set the mug down.
“Duty calls,” she said. “Vital window appreciation.”
“Sounds serious,” he said. “Better not keep her waiting.”
She took a step, then paused. “Arthur?”
“Aye?”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For…this.” She waved at the kitchen, the house, him.
He looked almost startled. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “You might hate living amongst Nordan.” A wry flicker. “We’re loud. And we shed.”
“I grew up among you,” she said. “You’ll have to try harder than that to scare me.”
His eyes warmed, just for a second.
She left before she could read too much into it.
As she climbed toward Aurelia’s excited babble, the bond hummed in her bones, tying her to the wolf in the kitchen.