Chapter 15 - Dani
By the time Arthur made it back up the hill, Dani had worn a path between the kitchen table and the sink.
She’d tried reading. Tried knitting. Tried doing the exercises Edith had shown her to smooth the magic out under her skin.
In the end, she’d defaulted to chopping garlic and tomatoes she didn’t strictly need, because the house felt wrong when it was quiet and she had too many thoughts rattling around in her bones.
Aurelia had fallen asleep on the window seat and then jolted awake again when Chase came in with an armful of films on battered discs he’d declared “cultural education.” Now she was curled at one end of the sofa in flannel pajamas, damp hair braided down her back, arguing with him about which “classic” they were watching first.
The bond shifted.
Just a fraction, like a compass needle twitching. Arthur, moving through town. Irritated. Tired. Not injured. Not in immediate danger. The knowledge shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did. It loosened something in her chest anyway.
Edith’s voice from that afternoon slid in under the relief.
He hates what witches did to his people. He hates that he wants what he was told would ruin him. That doesn’t vanish because you spent the night together.
Dani set the knife down very carefully.
She could still feel the echo of those fireflies in Thistlehouse, the way Edith’s eyes had gone wide with something like pride and horror. The weight of power in her hands.
She wanted to believe Edith was wrong. Wanted it enough that it scared her.
The front door opened downstairs. Boots thudded in the hallway.
A muttered curse as he knocked something he’d left by the wall.
She forgot, for one ridiculous second, that she was a grown witch with a teenage daughter and a hybrid crisis to worry about, and her heart did the stupid lift it had done when she was eighteen and heard his tread in the corridor.
“That’ll be him,” Chase said unnecessarily. He’d felt it too, even without a bond. Pack were like that.
Aurelia sat up straighter. “Does he look mad?”
“He always looks mad,” Chase replied. “It’s his resting face. Don’t take it personally.”
“You say the sweetest things,” Dani murmured, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
Arthur filled the kitchen doorway a heartbeat later.
He was still in the coat he’d worn to the clearing, snow melted into dark patches on the shoulders. His hair was tied back in a rough knot; a few strands had come loose around his face. The tension in him hit her before she saw it. His wolf rode very close to the surface, restless, bristling.
His gaze swept the room. Landed on Aurelia first. Softened, almost imperceptibly. Then it caught on to Dani and stopped. Something hungry and uncertain moved under his ribs; she felt it echo in her own.
“You’re late,” Chase said, because he had no survival instinct.
Arthur grunted. “You’re in my kitchen.”
“You’re welcome,” Chase replied, unbothered, “I fed your child, your mate, and your black hole of a fridge. You owe me.”
“He does make a good sauce,” Aurelia offered, as if giving a character reference in court.
Dani’s mouth twitched. “Welcome back,” she said.
He looked at her properly then, like he was re-orienting himself. His eyes were tired, but sharper than they had any right to be after the day he’d had.
“You all right?” he asked.
The question was gruff, almost offhand. The bond nudged, a more honest echo.
Are you safe? Are you hurt? Did anything happen while I was gone?
She shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t start any wars. Figured I’d leave that to you lot.”
He made a face. “Funny.”
“What happened?” Aurelia wanted to know, bouncing a little. “Did Dominic punch anyone? Did that Leonid guy get thrown off a cliff? Did the vampire do anything cool?”
Arthur’s jaw tightened at the mention of Leonid. Dani filed that away.
“Bedtime,” Dani said automatically.
“It’s not bedtime,” Aurelia protested, “It’s barely nine.”
“Then it’s ‘stop interrogating your alpha’ time,” Chase said. “Let him take his coat off before you ask who threatened to stab who.”
“You eaten?” she asked him, nodding at the pot.
He hesitated just long enough for her to know he hadn’t. “A bit at the inn,” he said. “I’m fine.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re lying,” she said. “Sit. I’ll get you a plate. You can explain the apocalyptic showdown in small words for the benefit of the child.”
He almost said no. She saw it in the set of his mouth. Then his shoulders eased a fraction, as if he’d remembered that refusing food in his own kitchen when his mate offered it might qualify as stupidity even by Nordan standards.
“Fine,” he said, and pulled out a chair.
Dinner was more reheated than cooked, but none of them cared. Chase filled the silence with exaggerated commentary about the stand-off, how Leonid had swaggered about, how Dominic had nearly exploded, how Rory had played mediator, and the vampire had watched everything with dead shark eyes.
“Wait,” Aurelia said around a mouthful of pasta, “you invited the Volnoye? Like, on purpose?”
Arthur’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Aye.”
“Leonid really betrayed Dominic?” Dani asked quietly.
He looked at her. Really looked. The reminder landed like a stone between them.
“He did,” he said, “and he paid for it. Dominic made sure of that.”
“Enough to trust them now?” she asked.
“Enough that I’ll take what they know and keep a very close eye on them while they’re here,” he said. “They’re staying on the ridge. They don’t set foot in town without permission. They step one toe out of line, Dom has the right to remove their heads.”
Chase snorted. “Julian wrote the rules himself. You’d have enjoyed it, Dani. Lots of his icy threats.”
Aurelia frowned, “Is Dominic mad?”
“Yes,” Arthur said bluntly. “He’s also not wrong to be.”
That earned him a flicker of reluctant approval from Dani’s magic and an odd look from Aurelia.
“So you invited a bunch of dodgy wolves to our home,” Aurelia summarized, “and now everyone’s mad.”
“That’s the gist,” Chase agreed cheerfully.
“Hybrids are still the ones killing people,” Arthur said, “the Volnoye are just a risk. Hybrids are the threat.”
The words were reasonable. Sensible. The kind of thing Edith would have grudgingly approved of.
None of it completely eased the knot under Dani’s ribs.
Her sisters’ voices from Thistlehouse threaded through the back of her skull.
They’ll use us as long as we’re useful. Then they’ll fall back on their hate. Same as ever.
She shook herself. Focused on Aurelia licking sauce off her fork, on Chase theatrically recounting Leonid’s insult about “measuring teeth,” on Arthur’s hand wrapped around his mug, knuckles scarred. Mundane, domestic details that felt like a fragile spell in themselves.
When the plates were empty, and Aurelia was starting to yawn between questions, Dani nudged her shoulder.
“Bed,” she said.
Aurelia made a noise of protest. Then she caught sight of Arthur’s face, the strain around his eyes, the way he was starting to hold himself just a touch too rigid, and thought better of it.
“Fine,” she said, sliding off her chair. She kissed Dani’s cheek, then, after a tiny hesitation, stepped to Arthur. “Night.”
He cleared his throat, as if the word was lodged there. “Night, Auri.”
He rested a hand briefly on the top of her head, fingers careful around her braid. Dani felt the small, shy happiness that bloomed in Aurelia at the touch, and for a second, hope punched so hard she nearly doubled over.
Chase gathered the plates before she could drown in them. “I’ll do dishes,” he announced, “because I’m the responsible one.”
“Terrifying thought,” Dani said.
“Come on, kid,” Chase said to Aurelia, “You can dry while I tell you about the time Arthur got treed by an elk.”
“I did not get treed,” Arthur growled.
“The elk disagrees,” Chase called over his shoulder as he and Aurelia disappeared into the kitchen.
Silence crept back in.
Dani could have left it. Could have let him stumble upstairs, collapse onto his too-soft bed, and pretend that what had happened the night before under the stars could float above everything else, untouched.
But Edith’s words sat like a weight in her chest.
Let him earn trust instead of handing it over like a free sample.
She stood, heart thudding, and said, “Come with me?”
Arthur’s brows tugged together, wary, “Where?”
“Not far,” she said, “just…somewhere without an audience.”
Something flickered in his expression, an echo of last night, when those words would have meant hands and mouths and the excuse of the dark.
Now they meant something much more dangerous.
He pushed to his feet, “All right.”
They stepped into the hall. The house felt different out here; the sounds of Chase and Aurelia arguing about dishwashing floated from the kitchen, but the corridor itself was dim, shadowed. More honest.
She stopped halfway between the front door and the stairs, turned to face him.
“You look like you’ve been through a blender,” she said, because starting soft was probably her best tactic.
“That’s one word for sitting between Dominic and Leonid,” he said. “Blender works. Mincer might be better.”
“Chase said you managed not to kill anyone,” she said, “he sounded impressed.”
“Chase thinks it’s impressive when someone finishes their beer in under ten seconds,” Arthur muttered, “low standards.”
She huffed a small laugh that didn’t quite make it all the way out.
He saw it. His gaze sharpened. “Dani.”
She lifted her hand before he could ask whatever he was going to ask.
“Edith was at Thistlehouse today,” she said, pulse starting to race, “we worked on…this.”
She didn’t give herself time to second-guess. She reached inward, to that widened channel the bond had carved out. Let the heat rise, not in a rush, but in a deliberate climb.
A small flame bloomed above her palm. Then another, and another, tiny points of light hanging in the space between them like sparks caught in amber.
They cast strange shadows across his face.