“I scared myself.” She didn’t pull away. Didn’t want to. His hands were steady against her skin, callused and careful. “I didn’t know I could do that.”
“Nobody did.” His gaze searched hers, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her right there in her doorway. Instead, he let out a slow breath and released her face—but his hand sliddown to catch hers, fingers interlacing. “You’re remarkable, you know that?”
Heat climbed her neck. “You’re saying that because I didn’t die.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true.” He squeezed her hand, his fingers shifting against hers in a slow, distracting rhythm. “But I’d appreciate if you kept not dying. I’m getting used to having you around.”
“Getting used to it?”
His mouth curved. “Maybe a little more than used to it.”
“Careful.” She matched his smile. “That almost sounded like you like me.”
“Can’t imagine where you’d get that idea.” He released her hand to retrieve the coffees, but the loss of contact felt deliberate—a promise that he’d be touching her again soon. “I show up at your door every morning, hold your hand, stare at your mouth when I should be paying attention to what you’re saying. Very subtle signals.”
Avine laughed—an actual laugh, surprised out of her. “You’re funnier than you pretend to be.”
“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.” He pressed her coffee into her hands, his fingers lingering against hers. “Brooding alpha. Very serious. No sense of humor whatsoever.”
The buzz in her stomach had nothing to do with the coffee.
“Speaking of not dying.” She took a sip, gathering courage. “I want in on the investigation.”
“We’re in agreement that you’re not going anywhere alone.” He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Let his fingers trail down her jaw before dropping his hand. “There’s a place we need to visit. Best magical archive in Haven Shores.”
Avine’s skin tingled where he’d touched her. “Then let’s go.”
SeaGlass Books& Lore occupied a narrow building on Main Street, squeezed between Moonrise Mixology and a shop selling aggressively nautical antiques. The storefront was unassuming—weathered blue paint, a hand-lettered sign, windows displaying stacks of leather-bound volumes and a very judgmental taxidermized owl.
The owl’s glass eyes tracked them as they approached.
“Please tell me that’s not actually alive.”
“Technically, no. But Fallyn enchanted it to judge customers.” Theo’s hand found the small of her back as he guided her toward the door—protective, entirely unnecessary given that she knew how to walk. She didn’t mention it. “If its head spins around, you’re not welcome.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then you’re only mildly unwelcome.” His fingers pressed against her spine. “It’s not much for friendliness.”
The head didn’t spin. Avine counted that as a win.
Inside, the building was significantly larger than physics should allow.
Shelves lined every available wall, crammed with half-organized volumes, glowing vials, scrolls that twitched when passed by. The smell hit her immediately: old paper, leather, dust, and an underlying hum that felt like accumulated knowledge.
Candles floated between the stacks, providing soft illumination. One drifted closer as they entered, circling Avine with what felt like curiosity before floating away.
“Don’t touch anything you can’t identify.” Theo’s breath stirred her hair, his voice low near her ear. His hand was still on her back. “Some of these books bite.”
“Literally or metaphorically?”
“Yes.”
“Great. A library with teeth.” She glanced up at him, found him closer than expected. “Anything else I should know?”
“The librarian’s worse than the books.” But he was smiling—at the corner of his mouth—and it made her want to kiss him. The thought surprised her with its urgency.
A voice cut through from deep in the stacks. “If you’re here to flirt, there’s a perfectly good alley outside. If you’re here for actual research, state your business and try not to drip anything on the floor.”
