“We could pretend.”
“We absolutely could not.” Cassia sprawled across the foot of the bed, her mask glowing perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “You almost died. You developed mystery sea magic. And the alpha of the local wolf pack has been hovering over you like an intense, overprotective shadow for days. We’ve got questions.”
“Many questions.” Dahlia’s voice was gentler. “But only if you’re ready to answer them.”
Avine took a long sip of her wine. It had shifted to a softer pink now—affection, she thought, or maybe the calming effect of being surrounded by people who cared about her.
“I don’t understand the sea magic. It’s not in my lineage. My mother was earth-touched, my grandmother was a hearth witch. There’s no sea anywhere in my family that I know of.”
“The inn.” Narla’s voice was quiet. Everyone turned to look at her. “It’s old magic. Sea magic. It recognized a resonance in you—woke it up.”
“But how can it wake up what wasn’t there?”
“Maybe it was always there.” Narla’s gaze held steady. “Buried. Waiting for the right trigger.”
The words hung in the air. Avine thought about her great-aunt Sue, about the way she’d orchestrated Avine’s move to Haven Shores without ever seeming to orchestrate anything.
“That’s terrifying.”
“Most real power is.” Junie refilled her wine glass. “Now, can we please talk about the wolf?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Avine.” Dahlia’s voice carried that particular maternal disappointment that made people confess to things they hadn’t even done. “He stayed at your bedside for two days. He shifted into a wolf and curled up at your feet. He looked at you like you were the sunrise.”
“How do you know about the wolf thing?”
“Marzipan was keeping watch.” Dahlia scratched behind the cat’s ears. “She’s very observant.”
“Your cat’s a gossip.”
“She prefers ‘information broker.’” Dahlia smiled serenely. “Now stop deflecting.”
Avine groaned, sinking back against her pillows. The wine in her glass had gone deep crimson—passion, probably, or embarrassment. Hard to tell.
“Fine. Yes. There’s… an attraction. Between us.”
“An attraction,” Cassia repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “An attraction, she says. Like the entire town doesn’t already know you two are practically mated.”
“We’re not—” Avine’s cheeks flamed. “There’s no—we haven’t?—”
“Not yet.” Junie’s grin was wicked. “Which brings me to my next contribution to this spa night.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a candle, setting it on the nightstand with a flourish. “Behold: my newest creation.”
The candle was a deep forest green, flecked with blue. Avine eyed it suspiciously.
“What is it?”
Junie lit the wick with a snap of her fingers. The scent that rose was immediately, devastatingly familiar. Cedar. Sea salt. Anundertone that was wild and earthy—a scent that made Avine’s stomach flip and her pulse quicken.
“I call it ‘Alpha Essence.’” Junie announced.
“You’re deranged.”
Junie winked. “Also, you haven’t stopped breathing it in since I lit it.”
Avine opened her mouth to deny it. Closed it again. Drank more wine instead.
Dahlia cleared her throat. “Speaking of the Alpha… I’ve been experimenting with some new recipes.” She produced a small box from her basket, opening it to reveal perfect chocolate cupcakes topped with swirls of dark frosting. “Alpha Crush Cupcakes. Chocolate with a hint of protection magic.”
