Maeve hesitated, then tugged down the neck of her sweater to reveal the bite on her collarbone. Dante did the same, showing the matching mark on his own skin. They were identical: two crescent impressions that glowed faintly gold in the morning light, the universal sign of a completed mate bond.
"Oh, you two." Twyla's voice went uncharacteristically gentle. "They're beautiful. Perfect matches."
Something warm unfurled in Maeve's chest at the approval in those ancient eyes. "You're not surprised."
"Sweetheart, I knew this was coming the day he walked back into town." Twyla sipped her own cocoa, settling into a chair like she planned to stay. "The real question is what took you so long?"
"Stubbornness," Maeve admitted.
"Fear," Dante added, earning a grateful look from her through the bond.
"Both valid reasons until they're not." Twyla waved a dismissive hand. "But you're here now, bonded and glowing like newlyweds, which is lovely. However, I didn't actually come here just to embarrass you about defiling my rug."
"Could have fooled me," Maeve muttered into her cocoa.
"I came to check in about the Solstice Gathering." Twyla's expression turned more serious. "The whole town's buzzing with preparations, but there's an undercurrent. People are nervous. They know something's coming, even if they don't know what."
Maeve exchanged a look with Dante, feeling his concern echo through the bond. "We're handling it."
"I know you are." Twyla stood, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt. "But I wanted to make sure you two were solid before everything gets complicated. A new bond is precious. Vulnerable. You'll need to be careful not to let outside threats fracture what you just built."
"We won't." Dante went to stand beside Maeve, his presence steady and sure. "We're in this together now."
"Good." Twyla's smile returned, warm and genuine.
She swept closer to the door, then paused with her hand on the handle. "Oh, and Maeve? That rug really was expensive. Hand-woven by a master craftsman in the Autumn Court."
"I'll get you two," Maeve promised, fighting a smile.
"One for here, one for your bedroom." Twyla's grin turned absolutely sinful. "Because something tells me you're going to need backup options."
She left in a swirl of laughter and winter air, the door closing behind her with a decisive click.
Silence settled over the tavern, broken only by the crackle of dying embers in the fireplace. Maeve looked at Dante, felt his amusement through the bond, and started laughing.
"We're never going to live this down," she said.
"Probably not." He pulled her close, resting his chin on top of her head. "Worth it though."
She felt his heartbeat against her cheek, the echo of it resonating through their bond, and had to agree. "Yeah. Definitely worth it."
Through the windows, Hollow Oak stirred awake under fresh snow. The Solstice approached with its promises and threats. Hector's plans waited in the shadows. But here, in this moment, wrapped in Dante's arms with the bond humming contentedly between them, Maeve didn’t feel the sharpness of threat.
She felt ready.
35
MAEVE
The town square glowed like something out of a winter fairy tale.
Maeve stood at the edge of the Solstice Gathering, watching lanterns bob on their strings overhead, casting pools of golden light across fresh snow. The air smelled of pine and cinnamon, wood smoke and Freya's famous spiced cider that simmered in huge copper pots near the Griddle and Grind. Children darted between adults, shrieking with laughter as they chased enchanted fireflies that Moira had released earlier, the magical insects glowing blue and gold in the twilight.
It should have been perfect.
But she felt restless. On edge.
"You're doing it again." Dante appeared at her elbow, pressing a warm cup of cider into her hands. "Scanning for threats instead of enjoying the party."
