Page 8 of Hexy Bear
The air in the kitchen suddenly felt charged with more than just the magical energy that always surrounded Mara. The attraction that had been simmering between them since their first meeting at the market crystallized into something that made it hard to breathe, hard to think about anything except the way her lips were slightly parted and the way her pulse was visible at the base of her throat.
"Mara," he called out like a prayer or a warning.
"I know," she said softly. "I know you're not ready. Heck, we’ve only know each other for roughly around three days. But Griff, I need you to understand something. I'm not Sarah. I'm not going to disappear or leave you broken. And I'm not some fragile flower that needs protecting from the complicated realities of your life."
Before he could respond, the sound of small feet on the stairs announced Tilly's arrival. His daughter appeared in the kitchen doorway, her dark curls mussed from her nap and her amber eyes oozing with energy that meant her magic was running close to the surface.
"Something smells really good," she said, then stopped and tilted her head with that bird-like curiosity that marked her fae heritage. "Why does the air taste like sparkles?"
Griff felt heat rise in his cheeks as he realized that his emotional response to Mara had been strong enough to affect the magical atmosphere of the room. His bear was practicallypurring with contentment at having both females in his territory, while his human consciousness was struggling with the implications of how right this domestic scene felt.
"Miss Mara is making dinner," he said, his voice more controlled than he felt. "How was your nap?"
"Good. The shadow friends stayed quiet the whole time, and I didn't have any scary dreams." Tilly moved to Mara's side, automatically reaching for the apron strings to help with dinner preparations. "Can I help? I promise I won't make anything explode."
"You can set the table," Mara said, handing her the silverware with a smile that transformed her entire face. "And you've never made anything explode, sweetheart. Your magic is much more careful than that."
As Tilly busied herself with the table settings, chattering about her afternoon practice session and the new ways she'd learned to make her power feel "smooth instead of bumpy," Griff found himself watching the easy interaction between the two females with something that felt suspiciously like longing.
This was what he'd thought he'd lost forever when Sarah died. Not just romantic love, but the sense of completeness that came from having a partner who understood both him and his daughter, who could step seamlessly into their lives and make everything feel more stable and secure.
"Daddy, you're making the flowers grow," Tilly said, interrupting his thoughts.
Griff looked around the kitchen and realized that the small potted herbs Mara had placed on the windowsill were indeed responding to his emotional state, their leaves reaching toward him with obvious magical interest. More embarrassingly, several of them had started blooming out of season, their flowers opening in response to what was apparently a very obvious romantic attraction.
"Sorry," he muttered, trying to rein in his feelings before they affected anything else in the house.
"Don't apologize," Mara said, her voice holding a note of wonder. "I've never seen plants respond to bear magic before. It's beautiful."
"It's inconvenient," Griff said, but his protest lacked conviction. The truth was that he'd never experienced his magic responding to someone else's presence in ways that felt harmonious rather than territorial. Usually, his bear was protective to the point of aggression around anyone who got too close to his family. With Mara, it was the opposite. His animal instincts were encouraging him to claim her, to make her a permanent part of his territory and his life.
"Dinner's ready," Mara announced, serving generous portions of what turned out to be some kind of magical stew that tasted like comfort food and healing herbs combined. "Tilly, why don't you tell us about what you learned in your practice session?"
As his daughter launched into an enthusiastic description of her progress with emotional grounding techniques, Griff found himself studying Mara's face in the warm light of the kitchen. She listened to Tilly with the kind of focused attention that made the child feel heard and valued, asking intelligent questions and offering gentle corrections when needed.
"And the best part," Tilly was saying, "is that I can feel when other people's magic is getting upset, and I can help make it calm down. Like right now, Daddy's magic is all fluttery because he's thinking about grown-up things, but I can make it feel better."
Before Griff could ask what she meant, he felt a gentle pulse of energy from his daughter's direction. His bear, which had been pacing restlessly with attraction and uncertainty, suddenly settled into a state of peaceful contentment that felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket.
"Tilly," Mara said gently, "that's a very advanced technique. You shouldn't use your magic on other people without their permission, even when you're trying to help."
"But Daddy likes it," Tilly protested. "I can tell. His magic feels all happy and relaxed now instead of scared and confused."
"That's not the point, sweetheart. Using magic to influence someone else's emotions, even with good intentions, isn't something we do without asking first. It's a matter of respect and consent."
Griff felt his heart do something complicated as he watched Mara handle the delicate balance of encouraging Tilly's abilities while teaching her ethical boundaries. Sarah had died before their daughter's magic had manifested, leaving him to navigate the complexities of supernatural parenting on his own. Having someone who understood both the practical and moral aspects of magical education was a gift he hadn't realized he'd needed.
"Miss Mara is right," he said, reaching over to squeeze Tilly's hand. "But I appreciate that you wanted to help. Next time, just ask first, okay?"
"Okay, Daddy. Can I be excused? I want to draw a picture of the shadow friends while I can still remember what they looked like."
After Tilly disappeared upstairs with her art supplies, the kitchen fell into a comfortable silence that was charged with unspoken awareness. Mara began clearing the dishes, her movements efficient and graceful, while Griff found himself unable to look away from the way the overhead light caught the gold in her hair.
"She's amazing," Mara said softly. "Tilly, I mean. The way she instinctively understands emotional magic, the way she can sense other people's feelings and respond appropriately. That's not something you can teach. It's a gift."
"She gets that from her mother," Griff said, then immediately wondered why he'd brought up Sarah. The last thing he wanted was to make this conversation about his dead mate and the complicated guilt he felt about being attracted to someone else.
"Tell me about her," Mara said, surprising him. "About Sarah."
