He got out of the truck. Told himself to keep his distance. Failed immediately.
Two steps and he was in her space, one hand at her hip, the other tilting her chin up. “Morning.”
“Morning yourself.” Her voice was husky from sleep. Or maybe from the way he was looking at her. “You’re early.”
“Couldn’t wait.”
He kissed her before either of them could think better of it. A brief press of lips—a greeting, a promise, a reminder of everything they’d started last night. She melted into him, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt, and it took every ounce of control he had to pull back.
“Piprick first.” The words were a groan.
“Right.” She didn’t let go of his shirt. “The crisis. Very important.”
“Extremely.”
Neither of them moved.
“Theo.” Her eyes were bright with amusement. “We should probably go.”
“Probably.” He stole one more kiss—a quick one, at the corner of her mouth—before stepping back. “Get in the truck. Before I forget why we’re leaving.”
Her laugh followed him all the way to the driver’s side.
The Old WardsDistrict was quiet this early in the morning.
Cobblestone streets wound between buildings that predated the town’s official founding. The whole district was slightly larger on the inside than the outside.
Piprick’s Peculiar Provisions occupied a corner shop that defied architectural logic. The building leaned at an angle that should have been structurally impossible, its windows glowing with the soft pulse of contained magical energy. Smoke curled from three separate chimneys, each a different color.
“Charming,” Avine murmured.
“Chaotic.” Theo parked the truck. “Piprick’s inventions have a sixty percent success rate on a good day. The smoke is usually fine. Usually.”
“And on a bad day?”
“The purple chimney exploded in 2019. Took out three wardstones and turned the baker’s cat invisible for a month.”
“The cat recovered?”
“Eventually. It still flickers sometimes.” He reached over and took her hand, lacing their fingers. The simple contact steadied him. “We go in careful. Piprick’s not dangerous on purpose, but his magic is unpredictable. If things escalate?—”
“We handle it.” Avine squeezed his hand. “I’ve got power I didn’t know I had. You’ve got—” She gestured vaguely at all of him. “—everything else. We’ll be fine.”
His wolf eased at the certainty in her voice. At thewe.
“Stay close to me.”
“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere else.”
The insideof Piprick’s workshop was exactly as chaotic as Theo remembered.
Shelves lined every available wall, crammed with half-finished inventions, glowing vials, clockwork contraptions that ticked and whirred, and a small mechanical bird that kept trying to escape its cage. Tables overflowed with blueprints, tools, and components that defied identification. The air smelled of copper and ozone and burnt sugar—or maybe crystallized enchantment.
A self-sorting filing cabinet shuffled papers in the corner. A brass contraption with too many tentacles waved from a high shelf. The ceiling was covered in charts and diagrams pinned at odd angles, connected by strings of different colors that formed a web only Piprick could possibly understand.
Avine’s hand squeezed his. “This is… a lot.”
“Welcome to gnome engineering.”
