Chapter 30 Avine
THIRTY
AVINE
She knew who it was before she opened the door.
Theo stood on her porch, morning sun warm on his jaw. He was holding two cups of coffee from Gilly’s—black for her, a complicated monstrosity for himself that he’d never admit to—and wearing an expression she was starting to recognize. Concern wrapped in control. Worry dressed up as assessment.
His gaze swept over her—quick, thorough, cataloging. Checking for damage. Then he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, set the coffees down, and cupped her face in both hands.
Avine went still.
“Your color’s better.” His voice was rough, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones with a gentleness that made her ribs ache. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I scared myself.” She didn’t pull away. Didn’t want to. His hands were steady against her skin, callused and careful. “I didn’t know I could do that.”
“Nobody did.” His gaze searched hers, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her right there in her doorway. Instead, he let out a slow breath and released her face—but his hand slid down to catch hers, fingers interlacing. “You’re remarkable, you know that?”
Heat climbed her neck. “You’re saying that because I didn’t die.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true.” He squeezed her hand, his fingers shifting against hers in a slow, distracting rhythm. “But I’d appreciate if you kept not dying. I’m getting used to having you around.”
“Getting used to it?”
His mouth curved. “Maybe a little more than used to it.”
“Careful.” She matched his smile. “That almost sounded like you like me.”
“Can’t imagine where you’d get that idea.
” He released her hand to retrieve the coffees, but the loss of contact felt deliberate—a promise that he’d be touching her again soon.
“I show up at your door every morning, hold your hand, stare at your mouth when I should be paying attention to what you’re saying. Very subtle signals.”
Avine laughed—an actual laugh, surprised out of her. “You’re funnier than you pretend to be.”
“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.” He pressed her coffee into her hands, his fingers lingering against hers. “Brooding alpha. Very serious. No sense of humor whatsoever.”
The buzz in her stomach had nothing to do with the coffee.
“Speaking of not dying.” She took a sip, gathering courage. “I want in on the investigation.”
“We’re in agreement that you’re not going anywhere alone.” He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Let his fingers trail down her jaw before dropping his hand. “There’s a place we need to visit. Best magical archive in Haven Shores.”
Avine’s skin tingled where he’d touched her. “Then let’s go.”
SeaGlass Books & Lore occupied a narrow building on Main Street, squeezed between Moonrise Mixology and a shop selling aggressively nautical antiques.
The storefront was unassuming—weathered blue paint, a hand-lettered sign, windows displaying stacks of leather-bound volumes and a very judgmental taxidermized owl.
The owl’s glass eyes tracked them as they approached.
“Please tell me that’s not actually alive.”
“Technically, no. But Fallyn enchanted it to judge customers.” Theo’s hand found the small of her back as he guided her toward the door—protective, entirely unnecessary given that she knew how to walk. She didn’t mention it. “If its head spins around, you’re not welcome.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then you’re only mildly unwelcome.” His fingers pressed against her spine. “It’s not much for friendliness.”
The head didn’t spin. Avine counted that as a win.
Inside, the building was significantly larger than physics should allow.
Shelves lined every available wall, crammed with half-organized volumes, glowing vials, scrolls that twitched when passed by. The smell hit her immediately: old paper, leather, dust, and an underlying hum that felt like accumulated knowledge.
Candles floated between the stacks, providing soft illumination. One drifted closer as they entered, circling Avine with what felt like curiosity before floating away.
“Don’t touch anything you can’t identify.” Theo’s breath stirred her hair, his voice low near her ear. His hand was still on her back. “Some of these books bite.”
“Literally or metaphorically?”
“Yes.”
“Great. A library with teeth.” She glanced up at him, found him closer than expected. “Anything else I should know?”
“The librarian’s worse than the books.” But he was smiling—at the corner of his mouth—and it made her want to kiss him. The thought surprised her with its urgency.
A voice cut through from deep in the stacks. “If you’re here to flirt, there’s a perfectly good alley outside. If you’re here for actual research, state your business and try not to drip anything on the floor.”
A woman emerged from between two towering shelves. Tall and willowy, with hair the color of autumn leaves and eyes that held an unsettling shimmer—fae-touched. Fallyn Green. Her gaze swept over them, lingering on Theo’s hand at Avine’s back.
“Alpha and the innkeeper everyone’s been talking about.” Her attention shifted to Avine. “The one who activated dormant wards and then exploded her magic all over the Old Wards District. Subtle.”
“More like ‘dramatically expanded.’” Avine smiled sweetly. “Less violent connotations.”
Theo made a sound that might have been a laugh, quickly suppressed.
A flicker of approval crossed Fallyn’s angular features. “What do you need?”
“Research. The sabotage on her inn—we need to trace the sigil patterns, identify the source.”
“The Sabotage and You section is in the back. Don’t ask why we need one.” Fallyn was already moving, gesturing for them to follow. “Second floor. I’ll pull what I have on the specific patterns your sheriff photographed.”
She disappeared into the stacks with the efficient grace of someone who’d been navigating magical libraries longer than most families had existed.
“She’s charming,” Avine murmured.
“You would say that.” Theo guided her toward a spiral staircase that hadn’t been visible from the entrance. “You’re charming in the same way. All sharp edges and dry comments.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“It’s an observation.” He started up the stairs, still close enough that his shoulder brushed hers with each step. “Whether it’s a compliment depends on how you feel about sharp edges.”
“I’ve been told I have too many of them.”
“By idiots.” He said it like a fact. “Your edges are some of my favorite things about you.”
Her heart did a complicated maneuver. “You have a list?”
“It’s getting longer.” He glanced back at her, and his expression made her miss a step. He caught her elbow, steadied her, didn’t let go. “Careful. These stairs like to shift.”
“Right. The stairs.”