Page 39 of Chasing Stripes (Enchanted Falls #3)

THIRTY-NINE

A s Artemis sipped, warmth blossomed in her chest—honey, cinnamon, and something wild and spicy that reminded her distinctly of Bartek. “What is this?”

“Mood-reactive cocktail,” Bryn explained. “Adapts to your emotions and... uh, preoccupations.”

As if on cue, golden sparks intensified in Artemis’s glass, swirling into recognizable tiger-stripe patterns.

“Well, that’s certainly revealing,” Thora laughed.

“It’s not funny,” Artemis protested, though she couldn’t help smiling. “I can’t control it. My magic has a mind of its own lately.”

“Common with new mate bonds,” Kalyna said, sipping her own drink—a deep red that occasionally shimmered with lion-like patterns. “Rust and I couldn’t be in the same room for weeks without setting things on fire.”

“Literally or figuratively?” Bryn teased.

“Yes,” Kalyna replied with a mischievous smile.

“The point is,” Thora interjected, “mate magic can be unpredictable until you stabilize the connection.”

“How do you stabilize it?” Artemis asked, curious despite herself.

The three women exchanged glances again.

“Physical connection helps,” Bryn offered delicately.

“A lot of physical connection,” Thora added with a smirk. “But it’s more than that. Time together, learning each other’s rhythms, accepting the bond rather than fighting it.”

“What happens if you fight it?” Artemis asked, absently tracing the rim of her glass.

Kalyna’s expression sobered. “It becomes volatile. Unpredictable. Magic follows emotion—especially strong emotions like anger, fear... or desire.”

“So when we touch and things start floating...” Artemis began.

“Your magic is seeking equilibrium,” Kalyna explained. “It’s like two powerful rivers converging—there’s turbulence until they find their shared course.”

Artemis considered this, thinking about the handprints that pulsed with golden light, the way her spells amplified when Bartek was near, the electric current that seemed to flow between them. “It doesn’t feel like a choice,” she admitted. “More like...”

“Inevitability,” Bryn supplied. “That’s how mate bonds work. They’re not forced, but once initiated, they’re inexorable.”

“Unless you break it,” Thora added.

“Break it?” Artemis frowned.

“Mate bonds can be severed, but it’s painful. Magically and emotionally traumatic,” Kalyna explained. “Most couples who try find themselves circling back to each other eventually. The bond recognizes something the conscious mind might deny.”

Thora leaned forward. “The real question is do you want this? Not the magic or the handprints, but Bartek himself. The grumpy, overprotective, duty-bound alpha with his pride responsibilities and his stubborn determination.”

Artemis thought about the way Bartek’s eyes softened when he watched his nieces, how his hands were always gentle despite his strength, the fierce protectiveness that radiated from him like heat. She remembered his patience as they worked on festival recipes, his unexpected flashes of humor, the vulnerability she glimpsed beneath his alpha exterior.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I do.”

Their appetizers arrived—a platter laden with supernaturally enhanced dishes. Mushroom caps that glowed faintly blue, cheese sticks that stretched impossibly long without breaking, and nachos with salsa that changed flavor with each bite.

“Enough serious talk,” Bryn declared, selecting a mushroom. “Tell us about the bakery. How’s Tilly doing with semi-retirement?”

Grateful for the change of subject, Artemis launched into stories about her aunt’s mixed feelings about stepping back from daily operations, the special orders they’d received for the upcoming festival, and her plans to incorporate more fae magic into their signature desserts.

The conversation flowed easily after that, covering everything from Thora’s latest bounty hunt (a rogue werewolf who’d been stealing magical artifacts) to Bryn’s charity planning for the upcoming spring festival.

Artemis found herself relaxing into their company, struck by how quickly she’d found a place among these women. In the city, friendships had been more transactional, colleagues rather than confidantes. Here, surrounded by supernatural beings who understood her magic and accepted her quirks, she felt a sense of belonging that had eluded her for years.

“—and then Rust tried to explain to the council why half the town square was covered in snow in July,” Kalyna finished her story, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

“Your husband has the patience of a saint,” Thora commented, shaking her head.

“He needs it, married to a fox,” Bryn quipped.

Kalyna’s retort died on her lips as her gaze fixed on something over Artemis’s shoulder. Her eyes widened slightly.

“Don’t be obvious,” she murmured, “but we have company.”

Before Artemis could ask what she meant, the door to the Moonlit Cauldron swung open. A ripple of awareness passed through the room—the subtle shift in atmospheric pressure that happened when powerful shifters entered a space.