“I may have… nudged things along.” Sue’s expression didn’t waver. “The inn needed someone with sea magic strong enough to wake the old wards. You needed a place to become who you were always meant to be. I created the conditions for both things to happen.” She paused. “I’ve been maneuvering for this for a decade, dear niece. Longer, perhaps. These things take time.”
Avine didn’t know whether to be furious or grateful. Both, maybe. Both seemed appropriate.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you have believed me?” Sue asked. “Would you have come if I’d said, ‘Avine dear, you’ve got dormant sea magic andI need you to come awaken it so you can bond with an inn and possibly fall in love with a werewolf’?”
“No.”
“Exactly.” Sue rose, smoothing her skirt. “The point, my dear, is that you’re stronger than you think. And so is what’s growing between you and the Alpha. But strength means risk. Love always does.” She moved toward the door, then paused, looking back over her shoulder. “The question is whether the risk is worth it. Only you can answer that.”
She left as suddenly as she’d arrived, the door clicking shut behind her.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
“Well.” Junie broke the silence. “That was deeply unnerving.”
“She’s been planning this for a decade.” Cassia breathed. “Your great-aunt’s a criminal mastermind.”
But despite everything—the manipulation, the secrets, the decades of planning—she couldn’t find it in herself to be angry. Because Sue was right. She had been hiding. And it had taken coming here, waking the magic, nearly dying, falling for a wolf—all of it—to finally make her want to stay.
Her phone buzzedon the nightstand.
She picked it up, knowing before she looked who it would be.
Still awake?Theo’s message read.Beck says I’m wearing a hole in the floor with my pacing.
She smiled, affection spreading through her that had nothing to do with the earlier heat and everything to do with simple care.
I’m okay,she typed back.Stop worrying.
His response came almost immediately.I’m incapable of not worrying about you.
Her smile widened. She could picture him—probably in his office at the brewery, paperwork forgotten, phone in hand, thinking about her when he should be focusing on pack business. Pacing that hole in the floor because he couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop worrying, couldn’t stop caring, even when caring was inconvenient.
God, she was in trouble.
I know,she wrote. Then, before she could talk herself out of it:I’m glad.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Get some sleep,he finally sent.I’ll see you tomorrow.
Tomorrow. The word felt like a promise.
THIRTY
AVINE
She knew who it was before she opened the door.
Theo stood on her porch, morning sun warm on his jaw. He was holding two cups of coffee from Gilly’s—black for her, a complicated monstrosity for himself that he’d never admit to—and wearing an expression she was starting to recognize. Concern wrapped in control. Worry dressed up as assessment.
His gaze swept over her—quick, thorough, cataloging. Checking for damage. Then he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, set the coffees down, and cupped her face in both hands.
Avine went still.
“Your color’s better.” His voice was rough, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones with a gentleness that made her ribs ache. “You scared the hell out of me.”
