The woman—Avine, that was her name, Sue Tidewell’s great-niece, the witch who’d turned his carefully ordered world upside down—turned to look at Beck. Tension bled from her shoulders.
“I wasn’t yelling.”
“Aggressively not-yelling, then.” Beck climbed the steps with none of Theo’s intensity, stopping at a respectful distance and offering a hand. “Beck Driscoll. I’m his beta, which basically means I apologize for his personality on a semi-regular basis. He’s usually less growly.” A pause, head tilting in consideration. “Well, no. He’s always this growly. But usually people are scared.”
Avine shook his hand. Her posture eased another fraction, and possessiveness curled through Theo’s gut at the sight of her fingers in Beck’s grip.
Stop it.
Avine released Beck’s hand and turned back to Theo. Her gaze was steady. Challenging. “I’m not scared of growly.”
Beck’s grin widened. “Ireallylike her.”
“Beck.” Theo’s voice carried a warning. “The wards.”
“Right. The wards. The very important wards that definitely require your personal attention and aren’t at all an excuse to stand near the pretty witch.” Beck’s expression was innocent. His tone was anything but. “I’ll check the perimeter.”
He vanished around the side of the inn before Theo could respond, leaving him alone with Avine and the weight of everything unsaid.
The ward anchor was set into the foundation of the porch, hidden beneath decades of overgrown roses. Theo crouched toexamine it, grateful for the excuse to break eye contact. To breathe air that wasn’t saturated with her scent.
The stone hummed beneath his fingers—alive, thrumming with more power than it had held since before he was born. The activation had been clean. No corruption. No instability. Old magic recognizing a new keeper and deciding, for the first time in decades, to wake up.
Theo straightened, brushing dirt from his hands. “This cliff has rejected people violently. Repeatedly. The wards you activated haven’t fired in thirty years for a reason.”
“And yet here I am.” She spread her arms, indicating the intact building around them. “No drowning. No attempted vehicular manslaughter. The house seems to like me.”
It did. He could sense that much. The inn’s magic was content. Whatever test the building applied to potential owners, Avine had passed.
That didn’t mean she was safe.
“The ward activation will have attracted attention.” He chose his words with care. “The whole town registered it. That includes parties who might not have your best interests at heart.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a fact.” He met her gaze directly. Let her see the seriousness there. “Haven Shores is a sanctuary, but it’s not without its dangers. The surge has been making magic unpredictable. Old alliances are being tested. And you announced your arrival to every supernatural being on the Pacific coast.”
Concern flickered across her face—quickly suppressed. “I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not suggesting otherwise.” Though his wolf wasn’t agreeing, loudly and insistently. “The pack protects Haven Shores. That includes you now, whether you want it or not.”
Avine’s expression hardened. “I spent fifteen years having someone else decide what I needed. I won’t sign up for another tour.”
“That’s not?—”
“I won’t be locked up.”
The words hit Theo like a punch to the sternum. He saw it then—not armor alone, but scars. Scars that came from being controlled, diminished, boxed in. He recognized them because he’d spent a decade running from his own version of the same trap.
I thought running was strength. It was cowardice.
His father’s voice echoed in his memory:A real alpha needs no one.He’d spent years proving that wrong, building a pack that relied on each other, that supported instead of controlled.
But he understood the instinct to refuse help. Understood it better than she could know.
“Protection isn’t a cage.” The words were sad. Soft. “But I hear what you’re saying.”
Avine blinked. Whatever she’d expected him to say, that wasn’t it.
