"Everything's different. And you're terrified because you want something more than independence."
"I want my tavern safe. My town safe."
"You want him." Twyla's smile held no judgment. "And the beautiful part, darling girl, is that he wants you to want him. Not because fate demands it, but because you choose it. Which makes it even sexier if you ask me."
Maeve opened her mouth to argue, but Twyla smirked and drifted away to greet new arrivals.
Across the room, Dante laughed at something Kieran said, the sound rich and genuine. His golden hair caught the firelight, his strong hands steady as he passed drinks to waiting customers. He'd rolled his sleeves to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle and marked with old scars.
He looked like he belonged here. In her space. In her life.
She had been terrified of it since he had arrived, the shift toward acceptance allowed her to feel how at peace it felt to acknowledge that truth.
"Two whiskeys, neat." A regular appeared at the bar, jolting her from her thoughts. "And whatever that lion's having. His drinks are on me tonight."
"Yeah?" Maeve raised an eyebrow.
"He helped my kid fix her bike this morning. Didn't have to, but he stopped and spent an hour teaching her how to adjust the chain properly." The wolf shifter smiled. "Good male. You should keep him around."
"I'll take it under consideration." But she poured the drinks with extra care, her lioness purring approval.
The night stretched on, warm and full and exactly what the Silver Fang was meant to be. A place of community. Of belonging. Of second chances for those brave enough to take them.
When the last customer finally left near midnight, Maeve found Dante wiping down tables while she counted the register.
"I appreciate what you’re doing, for not pushing anything.”
He set aside the cloth, meeting her gaze across the empty tavern. "This is what partnership looks like, Cub. I fight beside you, not for you. I stand with you, not in front of you. But on your terms, of course.” Then he slid his soft signature grin in that he just couldn’t help. "But something tells me you're closer than you think."
He was right, damn him. She was closer. Close enough that the space between them felt like a challenge instead of a comfort and her lioness demanded she close it.
But not tonight. Tonight she needed to sit with the feeling, let it settle, make sure it was real and lasting and hers.
"Go home, Dante." She softened the words with a slight smile. "We've got a busy few weeks ahead."
"Yes ma'am." His answering grin held heat and promise. "Sweet dreams, Maeve."
After he left, she locked up and climbed to her apartment above the tavern, her shoulder only aching slightly now. Through her window, she could see snow beginning to fall over Hollow Oak's sleeping streets.
And she did dream. Of a smart ass lion who made hers more than purr with attraction.
32
MAEVE
Maeve had always come here for official summons, for hearings where she stood accused or defended someone else. Never voluntarily. Never with her own agenda. But as she walked the hidden path through snow-dusted trees, her lioness moved with quiet confidence beneath her skin.
This was her territory. Her town. Time to claim it properly.
Elder Varric waited in the glade, his silver braids draped over his shoulders like moonlit cords, his storm-colored eyes assessing as she approached. He didn't speak, just gestured to the carved stone bench beside him.
"Elder." She inclined her head respectfully but didn't bow. Equals, or as close to it as she could manage.
"Maeve Cross." His voice rumbled like distant thunder. "You requested this meeting. I assume it's not about the reopening of your tavern, given that matter's been settled."
"It's about the Cross line." She sat, keeping her spine straight, her gaze level. "And what comes after Hector's attempted coup fails."
One silver eyebrow rose slightly. "Confident."
