And then there was the spark.
That moment when their hands had touched on the keg, magic flaring gold and amber between them. The mate bond snapping into recognition, clear as a bell and twice as loud. Hislion had roared in triumph, finally understanding why ten years had felt hollow. Why no other female had ever interested him.
Because Maeve was his mate.
Had always been his mate. But now, them being older, the veil had shocked them with it to get their attention.
And she'd jerked away like he'd burned her, shutting it down before the bond could fully form. Making it crystal clear she wanted nothing to do with what fate had decided.
His lion growled, restless and agitated. It didn't like secrets. Didn't like the walls between them or the way she flinched every time he got too close. The beast wanted to claim her, mark her, make it clear to every shifter in Hollow Oak that Maeve Cross belonged to him.
Except she didn't belong to anyone. Had made that crystal clear ten years ago when she'd left with Callum and Dante had stayed behind.
When she'd abandoned him to choose a new life without looking back.
No. That wasn't fair. She hadn't abandoned him. She'd escaped. Walked away from pride politics and Hector's poisonous traditionalism and a family structure that would've crushed her spirit eventually.
And Dante had stayed because someone needed to hold things together. Someone needed to try salvaging what was left of the pride they'd all grown up in.
He'd chosen duty over her. She'd chosen freedom over him.
They'd both made their choices. Both paid the price.
Now the price felt impossibly high, standing outside her tavern knowing she'd rather claw his eyes out than acknowledge what had sparked between them that afternoon.
He pushed through the tavern door, cold air following him inside.
The Silver Fang hummed with evening energy. Shifters clustered at tables, nursing drinks and conversation. The fireplace crackled, throwing warmth and light across polished wood. And behind the bar, short black hair catching firelight and a smile playing at her mouth, Maeve laughed at something Breck said.
She looked happy. Relaxed. The sharp edges she wore around him softened into something genuine as she poured the bear another beer. Her movements were fluid, confident, completely at home in her domain.
This was her world. The one she'd built without him.
The hollow years crashed down all at once. Ten years of staying with a pride that continued eating itself alive, watching Hector grow more bitter and traditional with every reform that failed. Ten years of wondering if Callum and Maeve had been right to leave, if walking away had been the brave choice and staying had been cowardice dressed up as loyalty.
Their uncle who has been forming his own splinter pride, taking the worst of the old guard with him to build something that looked more like tyranny than family and him telling himself he'd made the right call even as everything fell apart anyway.
Ten years of swearing he'd never claim a mate until he'd earned the right. Until he'd proven himself worthy of someone who wouldn't leave.
Now he wondered if waiting had been the stupidest decision of his life. If holding onto pride and principles had cost him the one person who'd ever made his lion settle.
She was colder now. Walls built so high and solid he could barely see the fierce young lioness he'd known. The one who'd looked at him with hope and heat and the promise of something he'd been too scared to reach for.
And here he was, unable to stop being a smart-ass every time she got within range. Unable to stop pushing her buttons and making her squirm because at least when she was yelling at him, she was looking at him. At least anger was better than indifference.
He knew it wasn't winning him any points. Knew every sarcastic comment drove her walls higher. But he couldn't seem to help himself. The banter came too naturally, the flirting slipping out before his brain could engage.
Maybe because if he stopped being insufferable, he'd have to face the truth.
That she blamed him for staying the same way he blamed her for leaving.
That they were both too proud to admit they might've been wrong.
That the bond humming between them didn't change the fact that she'd built this life specifically to prove that she didn't need him.
"You planning to stand there all night?" Maeve's voice cut through his thoughts. "Or are you going to come in and make yourself useful?"
Dante moved to the bar, sliding onto a stool. "Depends. You offering me a job?"
