Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
AVINE
Day Two
Beck arrived at noon with a cooler full of food and a grin that made Avine immediately suspicious.
“Lunch delivery.” He set the cooler on the parlor floor, where she and Theo were reinforcing the anchor behind the reception desk. “Also moral support. Also—” He pulled out a bag of chips and dropped into an armchair. “—supervision.”
Theo’s voice went flat. “We don’t need supervision.”
“Debatable.” Beck crunched a chip, watching them with undisguised interest. “Someone needs to make sure you take breaks. And eat. And don’t accidentally burn down the inn with repressed feelings.”
“Beck.” A warning.
“What? I’m helping.”
Avine bit back a smile and returned to the anchor. She was starting to appreciate Beck’s particular brand of chaos. It cut the tension, made the long hours feel less charged.
“Also,” Beck added, more quietly, “Garrett’s been asking pointed questions about where the Alpha’s been spending his time.”
Theo’s jaw went rigid. He didn’t answer.
The work continued. First floor, second floor, back to the basement for deeper reinforcement. The rhythm they’d established on day one had solidified—Theo laying pack sigils, Avine weaving sea magic over them, their powers learning to recognize each other.
Theo explained pack ward traditions while they worked—stories of wolves who’d protected this coastline for centuries, magic passed down through bloodlines and earned through loyalty.
“You left for a decade.” Avine layered sea magic over his latest sigil, watching the colors merge. “What made you come back?”
Theo’s hands stilled. For a long moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer.
“My father died.” His voice was flat. Careful. “The pack needed an alpha. My uncle Malcolm was tired of leading. And I realized that running away didn’t make me stronger. It only made me lonely somewhere else.”
Avine’s hands paused. “You were running?”
“I thought it was strength. Building an empire somewhere else. Proving I didn’t need the pack, didn’t need anyone.
” He met her gaze, and there was a rawness there she hadn’t seen before.
“It was cowardice. I couldn’t face what my father had done, couldn’t fight him for leadership, so I left.
I spent ten years telling myself I was building a life. I was hiding.”
The confession hung between them. Theo was quiet, but his attention was fully on her now. Not polite interest—real attention, the kind that made her feel seen.
“What did you want?”
The question caught her off guard. People didn’t usually ask what she wanted. They asked what she could do, what she’d accomplished, what she was working on. Not what she wanted.
“I don’t know yet.” She turned back to the stone, uncomfortable with the honesty. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe I needed to strip everything else away before I could figure it out.”
“That takes courage.” His voice was quiet. “Walking away from everything you know to find out who you are.”
“Or desperation.”
“Sometimes those are the same thing.”
From the armchair, Beck cleared his throat. “This is very touching. Truly. Emotional growth everywhere. But has anyone noticed that the stone is glowing brighter? I think your vulnerability might be supercharging the magic.”
They both looked down. The stone was, in fact, pulsing with unusual intensity.
Avine pulled her hands back. “Huh. That’s new.”
“Emotional resonance.” Theo stood, brushing dust from his knees. “The wards respond to intent. Strong emotions can amplify the magic.”
“So what you’re saying,” Beck interjected helpfully, “is that your mutual emotional processing is literally making the house stronger. That’s adorable. Also terrifying. Mostly adorable.”
Theo shot him a look that should have been lethal.
“Noted.” Beck didn’t look remotely chastened. “But for the record, this is the most entertainment I’ve had in months.”
Day Three
It happened on the third day.
The attic was smaller than the other spaces they’d worked in, the sloped ceiling forcing them closer. Dust motes floated in shafts of afternoon light, and the old wood creaked beneath their feet as they moved between the final set of anchor stones.
Avine was hyper-aware of every accidental brush of shoulders. Every time Theo passed behind her, his warmth cutting through the thin fabric of her sweater. Every breath he took in the quiet space.
They were reinforcing the final stone when their magic started to flow in tandem without effort.
Their magic found each other without ceremony now—turquoise and gold braiding together as if they’d always known how.
Theo’s voice came out strained. “That shouldn’t work.”
“I know.” She didn’t pull back. Neither did he.
“Witch and wolf magic are supposed to be incompatible. Tolerable, maybe. Layered carefully. But this—” He gestured at the stone, where their combined power pulsed in perfect harmony. “—this is different.”
“Yes.” He was looking at her now, not the stone. “Different.”
Avine’s pulse kicked faster. She focused on the work.
“Your magic,” Theo said after a moment, “is different than I expected.”
“How so?”
“Stronger. Deeper.” A pause. “Like the sea. The surface looks calm, but there’s power underneath that could pull ships down.”
She met his gaze. “Is that a compliment or a warning?”
“Both.” His mouth curved slightly. “Definitely both.”
Her breath caught. The attic felt too close, suddenly. Too intimate. The magic humming between them had nothing to do with ward stones and everything to do with the way he was looking at her—like she was vast and dangerous and worth drowning in.
“Here.” Theo’s hand covered hers on the stone. “The last sigil needs to spiral inward. Let me guide you.”
She should pull away. She didn’t.
His hand was rough and calloused from work she hadn’t asked about. His fingers curled over hers, dwarfing them, guiding her in the pattern with a gentleness that made her stomach flutter. Their magic hummed where their skin touched, warmth spreading through her like a current she already knew.
The sigil spiraled inward, their combined light braiding tight, and Avine forgot how to breathe.
She could smell him. His chest was close enough to her back that she could feel the heat radiating off him, could imagine leaning back and finding solid strength.
“Avine.” Her name was barely a whisper.
She peeked up.
They were inches apart. Close enough that she could see the flecks of darker gray in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way his gaze dropped to her mouth and stayed there.
A lightbulb popped.
From downstairs, Beck’s voice floated up: “Is it hot in here, or is that your unresolved sexual tension shorting out the wiring?”
They sprang apart.
The smell of pizza drifted up a moment later, Beck’s peace offering left at the top of the stairs. Neither of them went to get it immediately.
Avine grabbed a slice, mostly to have her hands occupied.