“Ground rules,” she said.
“Name them.”
“No pack politics,” she said. “No shouting. No saying ‘witch’ like it’s a dirty word.”
He winced. “I’ll…work on that last one.”
“And no disappearing afterward,” she added, lower. “You don’t get to be sweet for an hour and then vanish.”
His chest pulled tight. “I won’t,” he said. “No running. From either of us.”
She held his gaze a moment longer, then nodded once.
“All right,” she said. “Dinner. Stars. Try not to make it weird.”
“No promises,” he muttered.
Her laugh was quiet but real.
He watched her a moment, the inn’s yellow light catching on her hair, the edge of his mark visible above her collar, her eyes tracking their daughter across the room.
His mate. His witch. The girl he’d lost, the woman he’d found again.
He felt…off-balance. Exposed. Like the ground under him was shifting.
But for the first time in a very long time, looking ahead didn’t feel like bracing for a blow.
It felt like a possibility.
Chapter 11 - Dani
Dani almost turned back twice before she made it down the stairs.
First, at the wardrobe. Apparently, she owned two looks: a witch acting at professionalism and an exhausted single mother. Neither saiddate with the alpha who broke your heart and then mated you ten years later.
Second, at the mirror. Same eyes, same mouth, same stupid hopeful angle to her chin. His bite on her neck, dark against her skin. She looked like someone about to do something reckless.
Again.
She ended up in jeans, boots, a dark green sweater, and her thickest coat. Hair down, because tying it up made her look like she was going to a council meeting, not…this.
Aurelia was curled on the window seat with a book, feet fogging the glass.
“You look nice,” she said.
“You have to say that,” Dani replied, adjusting her scarf.
“I could say your hair looks all wild and fluffy,” Aurelia said calmly. “But you look nice.”
Dani huffed, warmth catching in her chest. “You okay staying here? Chase is…”
“Fun,” Aurelia said. “He promised terrible old movies.”
“If anything feels off—”
“I know,” Aurelia said. “Call you, call Edith, call Layla.”
“Last one is a last resort.”
