Page 25 of On Tap for the Bear
"Hi," she says.
"Hi yourself." My voice comes out rougher than I intend, scraped raw by exhaustion and want.
"Coffee?"
"Please. And whatever you recommend for lunch. I'm starving."
She's looking at me differently today. Searching my face like she's trying to solve a puzzle and I'm the missing piece. Her fingers drum against the bar top—once, twice—before she stills them.
I pour her coffee, and our fingers brush when I hand her the mug. The contact sends electricity through me, sharp and undeniable. From the way her breath catches, the slight widening of her eyes, she feels it too.
Quinn sets the mug down slowly, deliberately. Her hands tremble slightly. "Eli, can I ask you something?"
Every instinct I have is screaming at me. This is it. This is the moment Calder warned me about. The moment where I either tell her the truth or lose her forever.
"Anything," I say, even though the word tastes like a promise I'm not sure I can keep.
She takes a sip of coffee, gathering her courage. I watch her throat work as she swallows. "Last night, I went for a walk in the forest. And I saw...”
A vibration runs through the tavern.
It's subtle—most of the humans don't notice. A glass shivers against the bar top. The lights dim for half a heartbeat before returning to normal. But I feel it deep in my bones, in the place where my bear lives. The ley lines, thrumming beneath us like a second heartbeat.
Quinn's eyes widen. Her hand goes to her chest, fingers splaying over her sternum, pressing hard. Like she's trying to feel what's suddenly woken up inside her.
"Did you feel that?" Her voice is barely a whisper.
"Feel what?" Old Tom calls from his corner booth, oblivious.
But Quinn isn't looking at him. She's looking at me, and then past me, her gaze drifting toward the back of the tavern. Toward the cellar door. She can sense what's beneath, pulsing in the dark.
"Quinn?" I reach for her hand across the bar.
She blinks, her focus snapping back to me. Her eyes hold a new awareness. Confusion, yes, but also a flicker of recognition. Like she's felt this before and doesn't understand why.
"I need to go." She stands abruptly, nearly knocking over her coffee mug. "I have to—I need to think."
"Quinn, wait...”
But she's already backing toward the door, her notebook clutched against her chest like armor. "Tomorrow. I'll come back tomorrow, and you're going to tell me what's really going on here."
It's not a question. It's a demand.
Then she's gone, the door swinging shut behind her, and I'm left standing behind my bar with the ley lines still humming beneath my feet and no idea how to give her the truth she's demanding.
CHAPTER 8
QUINN
Ispent the remainder of yesterday up in my room. I needed time alone to think, to wonder, to decide what to do next. Part of me wants to just pack up and get out, but there’s something that’s holding me here… Eli.
I barely slept last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it again—that vibration running through the tavern, through me. My hand pressed to my sternum like my body knew something my mind didn't. The way my gaze pulled toward that cellar door, drawn by something I couldn't name.
By the time dawn breaks, I've given up on rest. I've spent the night replaying the moment, writing notes that don't make sense, circling the same question: what did I feel?
There's only one person who might have answers.
I'm back at the Bear Claw before I can talk myself out of it.
