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When I come home from fighting another wildfire on the west side of the town, I think that I’ve stepped into the wrong house.

I actually turn around and look at the front door, through the little window on it, to make sure I’m staring out at the same view I saw as a little boy.

To confirm that this is, in fact, the same childhood home that raised me and my brothers.

There are a lot of reasons to think I’m trespassing. Or that I’ve stepped through a wormhole into an alternate dimension—if one were to believe in that sort of thing.

For one, it smells good . Not like cobwebs or dust bunnies, but faintly of cleaner, and strongly of lilacs. I see why that is when I turn around and spot a fresh vase of them in the entryway. The flowers are sitting in clear water, their blooms letting off the gentle scent of June in Colorado.

The further I walk, the more I discover about the things that have changed.

A hole in the hallway—which I distantly remember being put there by Dallas just before our dad died—has been completely repaired.

It looks like it never existed in the first place, the hole plastered over and matching perfectly with the paint around it.

What used to be a loose railing on the stairs leading to the second story has been screwed more securely into the drywall and… re-stained , from the looks of it.

The floors are shining, mopped and polished. The walls no longer contain a draping, layered swath of cobwebs. Even the tallest corners are free from dust and spiders. When I flip on the various lights, I find that the light bulbs have been swapped out, so they all turn on.

“What…?” I whisper to myself, thinking back to my dad’s stories about Colorado cryptids. Did he ever mention one that would come and repair your home for you? Like a Home Depot tooth fairy?

Even the drapes are clean and pulled open, the windows no longer smeared with the gray soot of a dozen daemonic wildfires. Instead, they’re crystal-clear, the setting sun over the mountains breathtaking in the distance.

As I move toward the back of the house, I smell more than cleaner and lilacs. I smell tomato, mozzarella, oregano, and it makes my mouth water.

And in the kitchen, laughing together, are Seraphina and Nora standing by the stove. On the kitchen table is one of the books I lent Nora, a little piece of paper sticking out in the middle, presumably a bookmark.

The sight of them laughing in this kitchen that for so many years didn’t get any use aside from teenage boys throwing open the fridge to take a swig of milk directly from the jug—it does something strange to me. Like taking me back in time and pushing me forward, all at once.

“Xeran,” Seraphina says, and when she turns around, I catch the glint of a challenge in her eyes.

It’s at this moment that I realize she did all this.

“You…” I clear my throat and stand up taller in the doorway, my eyes darting between her and Nora, who is looking at her mother intently. “You did all this?”

“Nora helped,” Seraphina says dismissively, as though Nora being involved could explain the sheer amount of tasks they completed today. “As a thank you for the books.”

I swallow, thinking about whatever had come over me last night as I gathered them up, depositing them at her door. For some reason, there was something about Nora that reminded me of myself at that age. Always wanting to know more, seeking information. Even pressing at the adults in my life.

My father always used to say that was one of the ways he knew I would be the one to take over the pack.

Because as a child, I’d asked him things, pressured him to give me answers to questions he’d never considered before.

I never let him get away with a “because I said so,” which seemed to me like an idiot’s excuse for not thinking things through, or not having a decent justification.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Seraphina says, glancing at me quickly and wrinkling her nose. “Go wash up. You smell foul.”

Nora laughs loudly, then claps her hand over her mouth. I look between the two of them, mind racing. What in the world is going on here?

I thought Seraphina hated me. Last night, she made it very clear that she didn’t want me anywhere near her daughter. And now, here she is, making me dinner?

“Hello? Xeran?” She raises an eyebrow in my direction. “Do you remember how to take a shower?”

“Yes,” I say, voice rough, and when I meet her eyes, I know she’s thinking the same thing as I am.

About the time we’d gone to the hot springs together and slipped into one of the curtained showers, when she’d wrapped her body around mine and I’d held her in my arms under the water. “I remember how to shower,” I add.

“Then go do it,” Seraphina says, brushing a lock of blond hair from her face, the blush on her cheeks giving her away. “So we can eat.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m soot-free and sitting down at the table with them, still not sure what’s going on, and why she’s being so nice to me. How can she go from accusing me of keeping her here against her will to being a contractor, cleaner, and cook all in one?

Nora asks me more questions about the fires, and Seraphina watches the conversation with a close eye, like I might poison her daughter’s thinking quickly without her knowing.

The longer we sit at the table, and as the lasagna disappears from our plates, I start to think that I should apologize to Seraphina. For the things that were my fault—being a dick to her. Taking advantage of her.

When Seraphina sends Nora up to clean up from supper and get ready for bed, I join her at the sink, insisting that I help her with the dishes. She looks exhausted, and I can only imagine how the work from the day would have worn her out.

Rather than jump right into the apology, I clear my throat and decide to ease into it with something else, something I’ve been thinking about, “You know,” I say, clearing my throat again, “when my father passed, he left me some money.”

Seraphina laughs, glancing up at me. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

Are my cheeks getting hot? Am I embarrassed? What the fuck is happening to me right now?

“That’s not the point,” I say through my teeth, trying to steer the conversation back, make it go the way I want.

I’ve never been great at talking like this, and Seraphina knows it.

“The point is that—with the fire stuff—I just don’t have time to deal with the house.

So, if you want to keep doing this stuff, I could pay you. ”

“Pay me?” she asks, and when I glance at her, I realize she’s set her dish down in the sink, staring up at me as the water and suds glisten on her wrists.

“Yeah.” Why do I keep clearing my throat? “I mean, when the house is done, and when I head back to Chicago, you’re going to need some money, right?”

Seraphina looks away quickly, shaking her head as she picks up the dish again. “I thought you were going to be mad.”

“Be… mad? That you cleaned? And fixed things in the house?”

When she looks at me again, I understand, and that familiar flavor of dread and anger rolls through me. Something primal, ancient, passed down to me from my grandfather and father before me.

A fear of magic.

“ Dammit , Seraphina,” I snap, dropping a bowl into the water a little too hard, making the water rises up and sloshes over the sides. “What the fuck ? To my house? With your daughter here?”

“ Don’t you dare comment on how I choose to raise my daughter,” she hisses, pointing her finger at me.

For a second, I want to focus on that comment, unravel it and look inside. Because there’s something there. But I’m too focused on the fact that this woman was in my house all day, casting . Using magic. If my father knew about it, he’d be rolling over in his grave.

“You cannot use magic in this house.”

“Then we’re leaving.”

“You are not,” I growl, stepping closer to her, and there’s that familiar tug in my chest, the acknowledgment from my wolf that in every way that matters—every natural, important way—this woman belongs to me.

No matter how many times I deny it to her, or to myself, it’s true. And that means the wolf inside me is going to protect her. Even if that means telling her not to use magic. Even if that means keeping her here in this house. Even if it means suffering under the weight of her angry stare.

“So, you admit that you’re keeping us here against our will.”

“I’ll admit that I’m protecting you. Seraphina, what’s your plan? And what do you think is going to happen the second you try to leave here? Declan is still pissed at you, and my brothers are clearly under his command to get you, and Nora.”

“Well, you could help us get away, then.”

“Believe it or not, I’m busy with other stuff.”

It has nothing to do with the fact that I don’t want her to leave. That when I think about leaving Silverville again and not seeing her—or Nora—after that, something tightens in my chest.

“Your grandfather outlawed magic because he was scared of it,” Seraphina says, taking a step closer to me, tipping her chin up at me in a way that’s far too familiar. “And you’re blindly following in your footsteps for the exact same reason.”

“I am not afraid of magic.”

“Oh, really?” She raises her hand in demonstration, and I flinch back without thinking, glowering at her when she smirks at me. Stepping closer to her, I scowl right back at her.

“You’d flinch, too, if I raised my hand to you.”

“Then do it,” she dares.

“I would never raise my hand to a woman.”

“Which is why I’d never flinch!” she hurls back at me like it’s an insult, rising up on her tiptoes so her face is closer to mine, and my hands itch to find the small of her back, to haul her body up against mine, to explore all the ways she’s changed since we were in high school together.

“You need to get out of my face, Seraphina,” I warn, looking back and forth between her eyes, then letting my gaze drop to her lips. When I find her eyes again, they’re focused on my mouth, and it takes everything in me not to lift her in my arms, slam her against the wall, and take her right here.

There’s something about her—that rough, solid countenance—that makes me want to see how far she can bend for me while making sure she never breaks.

“Make me,” she whispers back.

With each passing second, my resolve continues to waver. Standing right here, with her scent starting to wrap around me, the flighty thing gaining more weight with every second we stand together, I realize I can see a future in which I give Seraphina Winward everything she wants.

I see a future in which I’d give in.

And I can’t let that future happen.

Fortunately, I don’t have to break the moment because Nora’s voice comes floating down the stairs, forcing us apart. “Mom?”

Seraphina blinks at me, like she can’t fathom how she got into this situation. I clear my throat and cross my arms, looking away from her and forcing my body to behave.

“Coming,” she says, her voice only slightly shaky as she turns and leaves the kitchen, abandoning me to finish the dishes on my own.