“He made a comment about her scales looking ‘fake.’” Cassia’s gasp was theatrical enough for Broadway. “In front of her.She hasfeelings.”
Glimmer flicked her tongue in vindication.
“Coffee.” Junie thrust a mug into Avine’s hands—black, exactly how she liked it. Of course, they knew. “Drink. Then we explain. Then you officially join the coven. Then we eat our feelings about the mating surge in cinnamon roll form. Standard witch-sister protocol.”
“There’s a protocol?”
“We’re making it up as we go.” Dahlia set a plate of cinnamon rolls on the table—fragrant, impossibly perfect. “But I’ve found that most things in life are improved by pastry.”
The first bite was heaven—butter and cinnamon and comfort that spread through her like sunrise. The enchantment wrapped around her, gentle and kind.
Avine closed her eyes. “Okay. Fine. I’m in your coven. Anyone who makes pastry this good can have access to my soul.”
“That’s the spirit.” Cassia was practically vibrating with energy. “Now—Haven Shores 101. Your aunt didn’t tell you anything, did she?”
“Sue tells people exactly what she wants them to know and not a syllable more.” Junie flopped into a chair. “It’s infuriating. Also, she’s definitely been orchestrating your arrival for years. Possibly decades. Very on-brand.”
The explanation came in overlapping waves. Haven Shores: founded in 1692, witches fleeing Salem, wolf pack offering protection, supernatural sanctuary ever since. Witches, shifters, fae, gnomes, sirens—“The usual,” Cassia said, as if any of this was usual. The ward system that Avine had apparently supercharged last night. The gossip network of magically enhanced seagulls and too-clever familiars.
“I’m never going to have any secrets here, am I?”
“None.” Dahlia’s cheerfulness was almost concerning. “Zero privacy. It’s awful and wonderful and mostly awful. But at least you have us now.” She reached across the table and squeezed Avine’s hand. Power pulsed between them—the sister-bond humming where their skin touched. “We look after our own.”
“Which brings us to the mating surge.” Narla’s voice was measured. “It started about a month ago. Magic’s been unstable. Potions going sideways. Candles lighting on their own. And mate bonds—” She paused. “They’re forming faster than they should. Stronger than they should.”
“Mate bonds.” Avine set down her coffee. “Those are real?”
“Shifter mate bonds. Witch mate bonds. Fae mate bonds. All of the above.” Cassia fanned herself. “It happens naturally sometimes, but when there’s a surge… it’smore. The wards react. The magic pushes people toward each other. There’s a lot of sudden declarations and dramatic confessions and people making out in the tide pools at midnight.”
“Very inconvenient for my potions,” Junie muttered. “Everything keeps going haywire. Last week, I made a confidence elixir that made a customer confess his feelings to three different people.Three. He didn’t even like two of them.”
“And you activated the wards.” Dahlia’s voice had turned gentle. “We don’t know if that made the surge stronger, or if the timing was coincidence, but…”
“But there’s going to be a lot of attention on you.” Narla finished. “From the coven. From the pack. From everyone. You’re new and interesting, and your magic shook the whole town.”
“Also, you’re single.” Cassia’s grin turned wicked. “And the Alpha’s single. And the surge makes single people very interesting to the local matchmakers. Fair warning.”
“The Alpha.” Avine pinched the bridge of her nose. “ThewolfAlpha.”
“Theo Vance.” Dahlia supplied.
She knew that name. He was the guy who showed up to check the wards. The wolf. It was probably not a good idea to tell them about the crazy sparks between her and Theo the previous night. That might give them the wrong idea.
“Theo Growly Hunk Vance.” Cassia’s voice suggested this was a name worth remembering. “Very intense. Very broody. Very…” She held her hands apart to indicate size.
“Cassia.” Dahlia’s tone was warning.
“What? I’m being informative.” She fanned herself again. “The seagulls talked about it for weeks. There were reenactments.”
“Seagull reenactments,” Avine repeated flatly.
“They’re very theatrical.” Junie shrugged. “It’s their whole thing.”
“Well.” She raised her coffee mug. “I guess I’d better meet the neighbors.”
Cassia whooped. Dahlia beamed. Junie’s snake did a thing that looked almost like a nod. Narla inclined her head, quiet amusement in her eyes.
“Welcome to Haven Shores, Avine Bell.” Narla lifted her own mug in salute. “Sister.”
