Page 12 of Claws for Celebration
"Maybe they were both," Lucien suggested. "Fairy tales that happened to be true."
"Is that what this is? Am I living in some kind of fairy tale?"
"The best fairy tales are grounded in reality," he said, fighting the urge to reach across the small space separating them and take her hand in his. "They help us process truths that are too large or strange to understand any other way."
"And what's my truth, Lucien?" The way she said his name made something warm unfurl in his chest. "What am I becoming?"
Before he could answer, a low rumble of thunder rolled across the mountains, and the lights in the bookstore flickered briefly. Both of them looked toward the windows, where storm clouds were gathering with unnatural speed.
"Weather moves fast in the mountains," Lucien said, though his shifter senses detected something more than natural meteorology in the approaching storm. "Why don't I walk you back to the inn? Miriam doesn't like her guests getting caught in the rain."
"That's very kind of you," Moira said, already beginning to pack up her equipment. "Though I should warn you, I'm getting used to Hollow Oak's unpredictable weather patterns."
As they prepared to leave the bookstore, Lucien found himself reluctant to end their evening conversation. These quiet hours together had become the highlight of his days, a respite from Council duties and supernatural responsibilities. With Moira, he could simply be a man who loved books and appreciated intelligent conversation, rather than the lone panther enforcer who kept Hollow Oak's shadows safe.
But watching her careful movements as she secured her camera equipment, noting the unconscious grace with which she navigated the bookstore's narrow aisles, he realized his feelings for her had evolved far beyond simple attraction or his panther's territorial claiming.
And that realization was both thrilling and terrifying with the vulnerability of opening his carefully guarded heart.
"Ready?" he asked, offering her his arm as thunder rumbled closer.
"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied, slipping her hand through the crook of his elbow with trust that made his chest swell with protective warmth.
Together, they stepped into the gathering storm, neither quite prepared for how completely their lives were about to change.
8
MOIRA
The Shadowheart Codex had become both Moira's obsession and her torment. For the past two days, the ancient grimoire had responded to her touch in ways that defied every rational explanation she could construct. Pages turned themselves to specific passages when she approached, revealing sections about blood magic rituals and ancestral binding spells that seemed written specifically for her education.
This morning was no different. As soon as her fingers brushed the leather binding, the book fell open to a chapter titled "The Calling of Dormant Blood," complete with detailed illustrations of magical symbols that looked hauntingly familiar. She'd been unconsciously tracing those same patterns in the air while thinking, a realization that made her stomach churn with anxiety.
"Focus on the facts," she muttered, adjusting her camera to photograph the latest impossible revelation. "Document everything. Find logical explanations later."
But her logical mind was losing the war against mounting evidence that magic was not only real but intimately connected to her family's bloodline. The grimoire's responseswere too specific, too targeted to dismiss as coincidence or environmental factors. When she needed information about the Shadowheart family's disappearance from Hollow Oak, the book revealed pages about magical exile and protective concealment. When she wondered about her grandmother's extended lifespan, passages about longevity enchantments and bloodline preservation appeared before her eyes.
It was as if the ancient tome was teaching her, preparing her for something she couldn't yet comprehend.
"Still wrestling with the old family records?" Lucien's voice made her jump, and she looked up to find him approaching with his usual silent grace. Even startled, she felt her pulse settle at his presence, as if his proximity alone could calm the chaos in her mind.
"Wrestling is putting it mildly," she admitted, gesturing to the open grimoire. "Sometimes I think these books know more about my family than I do."
"Old texts can be surprisingly informative," Lucien agreed, settling into his customary chair across from her. "Especially when they've been well-maintained by people who understood their significance."
"Speaking of which," Moira said, closing the grimoire carefully and reaching for her jacket, "I promised myself a coffee break before I disappear completely down the research rabbit hole. Care to join me? I could use some normal human interaction."
Something flickered across Lucien's expression too quickly to interpret, but his smile was warm as he stood. "The Griddle & Grind makes excellent coffee. And Twyla's always good for interesting conversation."
The walk to the café took them through Hollow Oak's heart, past shop windows displaying everything from hand-forged jewelry to mysterious bottles filled with colorful liquids. Themorning mist still clung to the cobblestones, giving the entire scene a dreamlike quality that Moira was beginning to recognize as simply part of the town's atmospheric charm.
"Good morning, you two," Twyla called out as they entered the café, her wheat-colored hair catching the light from the large windows that overlooked the main street. "Perfect timing. I just finished a fresh batch of my grandmother's cinnamon rolls, and the coffee's at its peak."
The Griddle & Grind was everything a small-town café should be: mismatched vintage furniture, local artwork covering the walls, and the kind of warm, welcoming atmosphere that made customers want to linger over their drinks and share their daily stories. The scent of baking bread and roasted coffee beans filled the air, creating an olfactory embrace that felt like coming home.
"Your usual table?" Twyla asked, already moving toward a corner spot near the window where morning sunlight created a natural spotlight.
"Perfect," Moira said, grateful for the familiar routine. Over the past week, this had become her preferred spot for processing the overwhelming discoveries that filled her days. Something about watching Hollow Oak's residents go about their morning business helped ground her when the supernatural elements of her research became too intense.
