Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Every wolf in the distillery knew.
Lily stood just inside the door, Gray's shirt hanging loose on her frame, her body still humming from what they'd done. She could feel him everywhere, in the bruises on her hips, the ache between her thighs, and the thread between them that pulled tight when he moved.
The tasting area had transformed into a war room. Maps spread across the bar, where tourists had been just hours ago. Pack members she'd only glimpsed before now filled the space, some still in work clothes, others in tactical gear, all moving with predatory grace.
"Boss." Ryker took one look at them and stepped back, nostrils flaring. "Hell. You actually did it."
"Not now." Gray's hand pressed possessively against her lower back, and heat shot straight through her.
Lily didn't need wolf senses to know everyone in the room understood what had happened. The stares, the flaring nostrils, the knowing looks. She might as well have been wearing a sign.
Shaw stood by the windows, his gaze locked in on the tree line. Calix coordinated with someone on his phone, mentioning evacuation routes and emergency protocols. Her friendly coworkers she'd come to know had transformed into something dangerous.
"Where's Damien?" Gray's voice carried an edge that made her shiver.
"On his way with his brothers. Called everyone in." Ryker's phone buzzed. "Evacuation has begun. The gas leak story just went out, so hopefully this won’t take long."
Through the windows, emergency lights flashed red and blue against the October darkness.
Tourists stumbled from the festival grounds, confused but compliant, herded away from danger they couldn't see coming.
A few complained about their interrupted evening, not understanding they were being saved from a supernatural war.
"The coven?"
"Still at the tree line. All thirteen of them holding position." Ryker's jaw clenched. "Just standing there like creepy statues."
Gray's fury pulsed through the bond, hot and sharp enough to make her gasp. His hand tightened on her hip, and she felt his wolf pushing at his control, wanting to hunt, to eliminate threats to his mate.
"Hello, Lily."
A woman approached from the chaos. Tall, athletic, and with the graceful strength that looked like it came from years of physical training. Silver threaded through her dark hair, and power radiated from her in waves that made Lily's magic respond instinctively.
"I'm Allison. Diego's mate." Her smile was warm but knowing, eyes taking in everything from Lily's trembling hands to the way Gray positioned himself in front of her. "You look ready to bolt or collapse. Maybe both."
"I'm fine—"
"No, you're not. You're overwhelmed and confused." Allison's voice gentled. “Being claimed during a crisis is never easy. Come on, let's go somewhere we can talk while these idiots panic about things they can't control yet."
She steered Lily toward the door, past pack members who tried not to stare. But Lily caught their glances—curious, assessing, some approving, others suspicious. She heard whispers.
Witch, Gray's mate, something smells off…
"Come on," Allison said, guiding her outside. "You need a moment away from all that testosterone, and I need coffee. Or in your case, probably something with a lot of sugar."
The October air hit Lily's face, cool and crisp, cutting through the fog of overwhelming sensation.
Across the cobblestone street, the tiny bakery glowed with warm light, its window boxes still lush with herbs and orange flowers despite the late season.
A hand-painted sign read "The Honey Moon Bakery" in cheerful script.
"Maeve keeps it open late during festival season," Allison explained, leading her across the empty street. "And she's pack, so she already knows what's happening. We can talk there."
A bell chimed as they entered, and the scent hit Lily immediately—cinnamon, butter, yeast, honey, and something underneath that made her magic hum with recognition. Fresh herbs growing freely.
The space was tiny but charming. Mismatched vintage tables and chairs filled the cramped floor space, while string lights and dried herb bundles hung from exposed beams. One wall displayed local art and hand-written recipe cards, the other held decades of island photographs in mismatched frames.
A display case showed off pastries on vintage plates, each one different.
Honey jars lined a shelf near the register, golden and gleaming in the soft light.
"Allison!" A woman emerged from the back, and Lily's breath caught.
The woman was hugely pregnant. Lily's eyes widened involuntarily.
She had to be at least eight months along, maybe more, and her belly was gigantic.
Light brown hair escaped from a flour-dusted bun, and her hazel eyes crinkled with warmth despite the obvious exhaustion.
She wore maternity overalls that had clearly been specially altered over a soft flannel shirt, both hands supporting her lower back as she waddled forward.
"Maeve." Allison's voice held affection. "This is Lily. Gray's—"
"Mate." Maeve's nose twitched, and her smile widened. "I can smell him all over you." She moved closer, assessing Lily with the frank interest of someone who'd seen it all. "You look like you need something sweet and somewhere to sit that isn't surrounded by panicking males."
"I—yes," Lily managed.
"Thought so." Maeve moved behind the counter with surprising grace despite her size. "Sit anywhere. Everything's free tonight anyway—crisis protocols. Besides, I was stress-baking and need someone to eat all this before I do."
Lily sank into a mismatched wooden chair at a table by the window, and Allison settled across from her. Through the glass, she could see the distillery’s windows, see Gray's silhouette moving inside. The bond pulled tight between them, but being away from the chaos helped her breathe.
Maeve appeared with a tray, two enormous mugs of coffee for Allison and herself, and for Lily, a steaming cup of something that smelled like apples and cinnamon. Plus, three honey lavender scones, still warm, their tops glistening with honey glaze.
"Enjoy," Maeve said, lowering herself carefully into a third chair with a small grunt. "My feet are killing me, and Connor's going to be tied up with this mess for hours. Might as well enjoy the company." She rubbed her belly absently. "These three aren't making things easier."
"Three?" Lily's eyes widened.
"Triplets." Maeve laughed at Lily's expression. "I know. Trust me, I know. We realized months ago and we’re still trying to adjust. But it does explain why I look like I'm smuggling a whole litter."
"You should be resting," Allison said, but her tone was affectionate.
"I'll rest when they decide to show up. Until then, I'm baking." Maeve's hand moved in gentle circles over her stomach. "Keeps my mind off everything else. Like the fact that I have no idea what I'm going to do with this place."
"Still no luck?" Allison asked.
"None." Maeve sighed, looking around the bakery with obvious love and worry.
"I've asked every pack member I can think of.
Everyone's already stretched thin. Gray's got the distillery, the Hansons run the marina, the Jennings have the orchard.
.. Nobody has the time or the talent for it.
" She shook her head. "And this island needs a bakery.
But it also needs someone who actually loves baking, not just someone doing it as an obligation. "
“Have faith,” Allison said. “We’re all going to put our heads together and figure something out. The pack needs their sweets.”
Lily wrapped her hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. The drink tasted like hot baked apples with hints of cinnamon and clove.
Lily felt tears burn hot behind her eyes. The casual acceptance, the warmth, the simple kindness of a stranger who should have every reason to be suspicious of her—it was too much after everything.
"Sorry," she whispered, wiping at her face. "I'm just—"
"Overwhelmed," Maeve finished gently. "Understandable, considering you found your mate during a supernatural crisis, your magic's going haywire, and you're trying to sit casually in a bakery while your coven tries to kidnap you. You're allowed to cry, honey."
"She knows?" Lily looked at Allison.
"Pack shares information fast," Allison said. "Especially during emergencies."
Maeve leaned forward as much as her belly allowed, her expression serious despite her casual tone. "For what it's worth, a lot of us are on your side. Any witch who'd run that far to escape her coven is someone who values freedom and choice. We respect that."
"The rest are just processing," Allison added. "It's not every day their most antisocial wolf claims a witch during a supernatural siege. But Maeve's right—they'll come around. They just need time."
"They all know," Lily whispered. "About what we did."
"Of course they do. You're covered in his scent, and there's a glow about you that keeps pulsing like a heartbeat." Allison settled back in her chair, movements elegant despite the surrounding chaos. "But what you need to understand is what actually happened in that garage."
"We uhh... mated?"
Allison studied her, and Lily saw calculation in those dark eyes. Not cruel, but careful. Weighing how much she wanted to share.
"You partially bonded. The sex, the knotting—it forged a connection. Those threads you can feel pulling at you? That's the working of a mate bond trying to form." She paused, watching Lily's face. "But without Gray's bite, without that final claiming mark, it's not permanent. Not yet."
Lily's chest tightened. "What does that mean?"
"It means you're in a suspended state. Connected but not sealed. The bond exists. You can feel him, he can feel you, but it's still... fragile."
"Fragile how?" This conversation was making her nervous.