Page 21 of Howling for Cupcakes

“Agreed,” Celeste said firmly. “But we’ll need to be smart about this. Victor’s a canny opponent with a lot of resources and dubious connections. Brute force and bluster alone won’t cut it.”

Arden deflated slightly, seeing the wisdom in the witch’s words. “I know. It just kills me, seeing him terrorizing her from afar like this. Making her doubt her own perceptions and feel unsafe in her home. She’s been through enough.”

“She has,” Luna agreed gently. “And that’s why she has us now. All of us. We won’t let him shatter the peace she’s building here, Arden. That’s a promise.”

He managed a taut nod, breathing deeply to settle his agitated wolf. “Speaking of - I want to try to suss out if Victor’s got any local eyes and ears keeping tabs on Mari. I might need your help magically vetting folks for ill intent or extra-strength nosiness.”

“Done,” Celeste declared. “I’ll cook up some truth serums and compulsion detectifiers, and start making the rounds. Anyone in Vic’s pocket won’t be able to hide from me.”

“Good. I’m gonna go brief Mari, let her know we’re on it. Last thing I want is her thinking she’s going crazy if she senses something off.” Arden scrubbed a hand over his face, hating that he had to have this conversation with her. “Thanks again, ladies. I’m glad she has you at her back. At our back.”

“Oh, pish. Begone with you and your thanks.” Luna gave him a gentle shove toward Mari’s house. “You just focus on our girl. We’ll handle the rest.”

One last shared look of determination and solidarity, and the witches shimmered out of sight once more. Arden straightened his shoulders and strode up the cobblestone walk to Mari’s robin’s egg blue door, a cheerful brass knocker in the shape of a crescent moon gleaming in the center.

He raised his hand to knock, but the door swung open before he could make contact. Mari stood in the entryway, still sleep-rumpled and soft in a blue robe that perfectly matched her door. Arden’s heart clenched at the sight of her, tousled curls and pillow creases and confused morning pout. She was everything.

“Arden? What’s going on? I thought I heard voices...” Mari stepped back to let him pass, a tiny furrow between her brows. He wanted to smooth it with his thumb, kiss away the gathering concern.

“Hey. Yeah, sorry, I know it’s early. I just...I need to talk to you.” He followed her into the sunny kitchen, the warm scent of baking bread and Mari’s soft floral perfume soothing his raw edges.

She put the kettle on and turned to face him, arms wrapped around her middle. “Is it Victor? Did something else happen?”

He hated the thread of resignation in her voice. The weary expectation that her ex would forever be a specter haunting her. He ached to erase that burden from her and make it so she never had to fear that snake again.

“I think so, yeah,” he said quietly, taking her hand. She tangled her fingers readily with his, accepting his support, his strength. It humbled him. “I noticed some weird mojo around your place this morning - symbols meant to mess with your head, make you anxious and isolated. Luna and Celeste came and cleared them out, but...I think Victor’s looking for ways to get to you without violating the restraining order. Magically, I mean.”

Mari paled, a tremor rolling through her. “That...that absolute bastard. As if he hasn’t done enough...” She squeezed her eyes shut, visibly wrestling her emotions back under control. When she opened them again, they blazed with defiant fire. Arden felt a fierce rush of pride. There she was. His beautiful, brave female.

“Well, he’ll have to do better than that,” she declared, lifting her chin. “I’m done letting him make me feel small and weak. I have too much to fight for now. Too much to live for.”

Her eyes met his, something intense and heated in their amber depths. Arden swallowed hard, hoping she meant what he thought... what he wanted her to mean.

“That’s my girl,” he managed roughly. “But I want you to know, you don’t have to fight him alone anymore. I’m here - we’re all here. Me, Luna, Reed...hell, the whole town. We’re not gonna let that bastard within a hundred miles of you, okay?”

Mari bit her lip, eyes going bright. “Thank you. This is so precious, knowing I have people in my corner, people who care...”

“More than care,” he admitted softly. “Mari, I...”

The shrill whistle of the kettle made them both jump, the moment broken. Mari hurried to take it off the burner, fussing with mugs and tea leaves to hide the heightened color in her cheeks. Arden leaned against the counter and watched her, marveling at the delicate strength in her hands and the fluid grace of her movements. She was a survivor, his Mari. A fighter. And he’d go to the ends of the earth to make sure she never had to battle alone again.

The rest of the morning passed in quiet companionship, sipping tea and going over their respective plans for the day between comfortable silences. When it came time for him to leave for his shift, Arden hesitated at the door, seized by a sudden, intense need to hold her. She was his mate and he wanted to mark and bite her already. He wanted to imprint the feel and scent of her on his senses, a talisman against the demons lurking in the shadows.

“Mari, I...” He trailed off as she stepped up to him, slender arms wrapping around his waist. She pressed her face to his chest, right over the hammering beat of his heart, and he folded himself around her like he could shield her from the world, from every darkness and danger that dared threaten her light.

“I know,” she whispered, tightening her hold. “It will be okay, wolfman. Now go. Take a bite out of crime and all that.”

He chuffed a surprised laugh, amazed as ever by her ability to unmoor him with a word or a touch. “Okay, beautiful.” He risked a quick, fervent kiss to her lips before forcing himself to let go and step back. “Call me, though, if anything feels weird or off or just...wrong. Please. Don’t tough it out alone because you think you have to.”

She smiled up at him, autumn eyes soft. “I will. I promise. Now seriously, go. I’ll see you later.”

One last long look, doing his best to memorize every cherished inch of her face, and he made himself walk out the door. But he could still feel her warmth like a brand on his skin, could still smell her sweet scent clinging to his clothes. A piece of her, of them, to carry with him as he faced the day ahead.

The rest of the morning was a blur of activity - briefing his fellow officers on the potential threat, coordinating with neighboring towns and precincts for any hint of Victor’s movements, poring over the scant information they had on the warlock’s financial holdings and known associates.

It was frustrating work, the lack of any concrete leads or evidence. Victor Sinclair was a ghost, flitting in and out of record only to leave turmoil in his wake.

By lunchtime, Arden was tense and irritable, a headache pounding behind his eyes from squinting at tiny print and endless screens. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to release some of the gathered pressure, breathing deep to center himself. Flying off the handle wouldn’t help Mari. He needed to keep it together.

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