Page 13 of Claws for Celebration (Hollow Oak Mates #3)

LUCIEN

L ucien noticed the changes in his bookstore before Moira did.

Subtle at first: the way dust seemed reluctant to settle on surfaces near her workspace, how the afternoon light lingered longer in the rare books section, the fact that his most temperamental ancient volumes had stopped their restless shifting and settled into peaceful quiet.

Now, three days after their intimate morning at Twyla's café, he could no longer pretend the magical disturbances were coincidental.

"Damn," Moira muttered from her usual table, frowning at a particularly faded page in the Shadowheart Codex. "I can barely make out this genealogy entry. The ink's too degraded."

As she spoke, her right hand moved unconsciously through the air, fingers tracing elegant patterns that left shimmering trails of golden light. The sigils she drew without realizing it were protection runes, ward-work that would have impressed Council members with decades of magical training.

The faded ink on the ancient page darkened in response to her gesture, becoming legible once again.

Lucien's panther went absolutely still, recognizing both the power she was unconsciously wielding and the danger that such uncontrolled ability represented.

His rational mind insisted he should contact Varric immediately, report that Moira's magical development had accelerated beyond their most optimistic projections.

His heart demanded he protect her from the Council's potential interference.

"That's better," Moira said with satisfaction, apparently oblivious to the fact that she'd just performed advanced blood magic without conscious intent. "Sometimes these old documents just need the right lighting conditions."

"Indeed they do," Lucien agreed carefully, though what she'd needed wasn't better lighting but rather the awakened magical heritage that was reshaping reality around her one unconscious spell at a time.

He moved through his afternoon routine of helping customers and managing inventory while keeping careful watch on her magical emanations.

The protective spells she wove around herself had begun extending outward, encompassing the entire rare books section in a web of golden energy that made his shifter senses tingle with awareness.

Mrs. Henderson, browsing the romance section, paused mid-reach and blinked in confusion. "Is it just me, or does the air in here feel different today? Lighter somehow?"

"Mountain weather," Lucien said smoothly. "Barometric pressure changes can affect the atmosphere."

But he knew it wasn't weather making the elderly woman feel more energetic. Moira's unconscious magic was creating an environment of enhanced wellbeing, the kind of protective ward-work that took master practitioners years to perfect.

"Lucien," Moira called softly, "could you help me with something?"

He made his way to her table, noting how the golden traces of her magic seemed to recognize his presence and intensify in response. His panther purred with satisfaction at being welcomed into her unconscious magical space, territorial instincts satisfied by her trust.

"What do you need?"

"I'm trying to cross-reference this family tree with the land ownership records, but I can't reach the genealogy section from here." She gestured toward the shelf of heavy volumes across the room. "Could you grab the Thornwell family history? The one with the green binding?"

"Of course."

But as Lucien started toward the indicated shelf, Moira's attention returned to her work, and he watched in fascination as her left hand gestured absently in the direction of the genealogy section.

Her concentration remained fixed on the Shadowheart Codex, but her unconscious magic reached across the bookstore with confident precision.

The green-bound Thornwell genealogy lifted itself from the shelf, floating through the air with serene grace to settle gently on the table beside her laptop.

Moira looked up in time to see the book completing its magical journey. Her face went white with shock.

"What the hell?" she breathed, staring at the volume that had just defied several laws of physics to answer her casual request.

Lucien's protective instincts went into overdrive. The careful revelation timeline the Council had planned, the gradual introduction to supernatural concepts, all of it became irrelevant in the face of Moira's obvious distress.

"Hey," he said softly, moving to her side with the fluid grace his panther demanded when their mate was frightened. "It's all right."

"All right?" Her voice rose to just below panic levels. "Lucien, that book just flew across the room! Books don't fly! They don't just levitate themselves when I need them!"

"Sometimes they do," he said carefully, settling into the chair beside her. "In places where old magic runs deep."

"Old magic." She laughed sounded with hysteria rather than humor. "Right. Magic. Because that's a perfectly reasonable explanation for why inanimate objects are responding to my subconscious desires."

Lucien studied her face, noting the way her pupils had dilated with shock and her hands trembled as she reached for her water bottle.

His panther wanted to gather her into his arms, to provide comfort through physical contact and protective presence.

But his human mind recognized that she needed honesty more than comfort right now.

"Moira," he said gently, "what's the most logical explanation for what just happened?"

"Logical?" She stared at him as if he'd asked her to solve quantum physics with finger paints. "There is no logical explanation. Books don't levitate, air doesn't shimmer with golden light, and genealogy pages don't suddenly become readable just because I want them to."

"They do if you have the power to make it happen."

The words hung between them, weighted with implications that would change everything about their relationship. Lucien watched her process the statement, saw the moment when her analytical mind began accepting possibilities she'd been fighting for weeks.

"You're saying I did that." It wasn't a question.

"I'm saying you've been doing things like that since you arrived in Hollow Oak. The difference is now they're becoming too obvious to rationalize away."

Moira was quiet for a long moment, her gaze moving between the mysteriously transported book and her own hands as if seeing them for the first time. "The protection spells. The ward-work. You know what I've been doing unconsciously."

Her matter-of-fact tone surprised him. "You're taking this more calmly than I expected."

"Panic is a luxury I can't afford right now," she said with the controlled precision of someone holding herself together through sheer willpower.

"If I start screaming about impossible things, I'll never stop.

So let's stick to facts. I have some kind of magical ability.

You've been aware of it. What else haven't you told me? "

The directness of her question cut straight through his protective instincts to the core of his dilemma. Moira deserved honesty, but revealing too much too quickly could overwhelm her still-fragile acceptance of the supernatural.

"Your family's heritage runs deeper than the genealogies suggest," he said carefully. "The Shadowheart bloodline wasn't just influential in Hollow Oak's early days. They were essential to its survival."

"Essential how?"

"They created the magical protections that keep this community safe.

The ward-work you're unconsciously performing?

It's restoring defenses that have been weakening for decades.

" Lucien watched her face as she processed this information.

"Your great-great-grandmother and her sisters and your own grandmother didn't just disappear from the historical record.

They sacrificed themselves to create a sanctuary that would endure long after they were gone. "

"And now I'm supposed to take their place?" Her voice carried a tremor that carried the weight of inherited responsibility.

"Not supposed to. Called to. There's a difference." He leaned forward, wanting to bridge the distance between them without overwhelming her with too much contact. "No one can force you to accept your heritage, Moira. But ignoring it won't make it disappear."

"The residents here," she said slowly, "they all have gifts like mine?"

"Different gifts, but yes. Hollow Oak has always been a haven for those who don't fit into the ordinary world.

" He chose his words with deliberate care, offering truth without revealing the full extent of the supernatural community surrounding her.

"Healers, seers, those with unusual connections to nature or ancient knowledge. "

"And you?"

The question he'd been dreading and anticipating in equal measure. Lucien met her gaze steadily, knowing that his next words would determine whether she trusted him enough to continue down this path.

"I have my own gifts," he said simply. "But understanding yours is more important right now."

Moira studied his face with the intensity she usually reserved for historical documents, searching for meanings hidden between the lines. "You're still protecting me from something."

"I'm protecting you from information overload," he corrected. "One revelation at a time, or you'll never be able to process any of it properly."

"And if I decide I can't handle any of it? If I choose to leave Hollow Oak and pretend none of this ever happened?"

The possibility sent sharp pain through his chest, but Lucien kept his expression neutral. "Then that's your choice to make. Though I suspect you'll find that running from your nature is more difficult than embracing it."

"Because the magic will follow me?"

"Because you'll always know that you left a part of yourself behind." He gestured toward the golden traces of protection magic that still shimmered faintly around her workspace. "This is who you are, Moira. The question isn't whether you have these abilities, but what you choose to do with them."

She looked down at her hands again, flexing her fingers as if testing whether they felt different now that she understood what they were capable of. "The Shadowheart Codex. It's been teaching me, hasn't it? Preparing me for this conversation."

"Ancient magic recognizes its own bloodline. The grimoire has been waiting for someone with your heritage to claim it for over a century."

"Claim it," she repeated. "As in permanent ownership? Staying in Hollow Oak to fulfill some kind of hereditary obligation?"

"As in making an informed choice about your future based on complete understanding of your options.

" Lucien kept his voice carefully neutral despite his panther's desperate desire to convince her to stay.

"No one will force you to remain here, but you deserve to know what you'd be walking away from. "

As afternoon light shifted through the bookstore windows, casting new shadows across Moira's face, Lucien found himself studying the subtle changes in her demeanor.

The scholar's curiosity was winning over the frightened human's desire to flee, but he could see the internal struggle playing out in her expressive brown eyes.

Whatever she decided, he realized with crystal clarity, she needed to make that choice with full knowledge of what was at stake.

The magical incidents would only continue to escalate, and without proper guidance, her awakening power could become dangerous to both herself and the community she was unconsciously protecting.

Soon, very soon, he would have to trust her with the complete truth about Hollow Oak's supernatural nature. His own shifter identity would have to be revealed, along with the Council's expectations and the growing threats that her magical awakening was attracting.

For now, though, watching her process the reality of her witch heritage with the same methodical intelligence she brought to historical research, Lucien found himself hoping that when the time came for full revelation, Moira's courage would prove as strong as her curiosity.