Page 38 of Claws for Celebration (Hollow Oak Mates #3)

MOIRA

M oira woke to the sensation of Lucien's fingers tracing lazy patterns across her bare shoulder, his touch gentle enough not to fully rouse her but persistent enough to pull her from the depths of sleep.

"Good morning, beautiful," he murmured against her temple, his voice still rough with sleep.

She stretched languidly, every muscle in her body pleasantly sore from their night together. "Mmm. What time is it?"

"Early enough that we have time for one more practice session before the cavalry arrives." His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. "How are you feeling?"

The question carried weight that went far beyond physical comfort. Today was the day and the reality of that began to sink into her bones.

"Nervous," she admitted, turning in his arms to face him. The morning light caught the concern in his dark green eyes, making her heart clench with love and determination in equal measure. "But ready."

"Let's test that readiness," he said, kissing her before sitting up and reaching for his discarded shirt.

They moved through their morning routine with the easy intimacy of a couple who'd been together for years rather than weeks.

Coffee prepared in comfortable silence, shared glances over steaming mugs, the simple pleasure of existing in the same space.

When they finally made their way to the ritual practice area in the bookstore's back room, Moira felt centered, not by magical preparation, but with love.

"Start with basic energy manipulation," Lucien suggested, settling cross-legged on the floor across from her. "Let me feel how the bond affects your control."

She closed her eyes and reached for her magic, feeling the familiar golden warmth rise in her chest. But this time, instead of the wild surge she'd grown accustomed to, the power flowed with silk-smooth precision.

Through their mate bond, she could sense Lucien's steady presence, his panther's natural resistance to magical influence acting like a stabilizing anchor.

"That's incredible," she breathed, opening her eyes to find threads of golden light dancing between her fingers in perfect geometric patterns. "It's like having a filter that removes all the chaos."

"Can you handle more power?" he asked, leaning forward with professional interest despite the way his gaze lingered on her lips.

She drew deeper from her magical well, pulling enough energy to make the air around them shimmer with heat. What should have been overwhelming felt manageable, controlled, purposeful. "This is what we needed. This connection, this stability. I can actually feel confident about the ritual now."

"Good," he said, but his expression remained serious. "Because we're going to need every advantage we can get."

Twyla swept into the bookstore carrying a wicker basket that smelled like cinnamon and courage, her wheat-colored hair braided with what looked suspiciously like protective charms.

"Morning, you two," she called cheerfully, though Moira caught the underlying tension in her voice. "I brought supplies for the big day."

"Supplies?" Moira asked, accepting the steaming mug Twyla pressed into her hands.

"Courage tea, blessed by every magical resident in Hollow Oak," Twyla explained, settling into the third chair with the kind of maternal authority that brooked no argument.

"Elena contributed strength herbs, Cordelia added clarity blossoms, and Mrs. Thornwell insisted on adding a pinch of her grandmother's protection powder. "

The tea tasted like liquid determination. "They all contributed?"

"Honey, the entire town knows what you're doing today.

What you're risking for all of us." Twyla's brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

"Marcus Ashford sent a hand-carved focusing crystal.

The Greyward twins blessed a protection charm with their combined earth magic.

Even old Mr. Henderson, who barely speaks to anyone, left a bundle of sage from his personal garden on my doorstep. "

Moira felt her throat tighten with emotion. "I had no idea."

"You've become part of us," Twyla said simply. "Family protects family, and family celebrates family's victories. Which is exactly what we're planning to do tonight after you banish this ancient nastiness once and for all."

The confidence in Twyla's voice, the absolute certainty that Moira would succeed and return safely, made something warm and fierce bloom in her chest. This was what she was fighting for. Not just the abstract concept of saving the world, but these specific people who'd welcomed her home.

"There's more," Twyla continued, pulling a small leather pouch from her basket. "Blessings from the Cherokee shamans Elder Varric contacted. They sent protective tokens made from sacred mountain stone. And the Appalachian Fae Collective contributed this."

She held up what looked like a simple silver pendant, but Moira could feel the power humming from it even across the table. "What does it do?"

"Dimensional anchor," Twyla explained. "If the ritual magic tries to pull you too far into the between-spaces, this will help you find your way back to the physical world."

Lucien leaned forward, his protective instincts clearly engaged. "How do we know it's safe? Fae magic can be tricky."

"Because I tested it myself," Twyla said with a slight smile. "Fae-blooded, remember? I can sense if there are any nasty surprises woven into the enchantment. This is clean, honest protection magic."

As Moira fastened the pendant around her neck, feeling its subtle weight settle against her collarbone, she marveled at how much her life had changed.

Six weeks ago, she'd been Dr. Moira Marsh, solitary academic with a quiet life and modest ambitions.

Now she was the Guardian Witch of Hollow Oak, mate to a shape-shifting panther, and apparently beloved enough by her adopted community that they'd moved mountains to ensure her safety.

"Thank you," she said, the words completely inadequate for what she was feeling. "All of you. I don't know how to repay this kind of generosity."

"You repay it by coming home safe," Twyla said firmly. "Now, I'll leave you two to your final preparations. But Moira? Remember that courage isn't the absence of fear. It's doing what needs to be done despite the fear."

After Twyla left, Moira found herself drawn back to the Shadowheart Codex, which had been unusually quiet since their conversation the previous evening. The ancient tome sat on her usual table like a sleeping predator, its leather binding dark and still.

"One more consultation," she told Lucien, settling into her chair with the kind of grim determination that had carried her through graduate school and would hopefully carry her through magical apocalypse prevention.

The grimoire's pages fell open at her touch, revealing text that shimmered with seductive golden script. The words seemed to caress the parchment as they appeared, carrying an undertone of honeyed persuasion that made her skin prickle with awareness.

The liberation ritual requires precise channeling of dimensional energies through the willing vessel. Success demands absolute commitment to the working, without hesitation or doubt clouding the practitioner's resolve.

"Liberation," Moira read aloud, her voice catching on the word. "It's still trying to make freeing him sound like the right choice."

Lucien moved to stand behind her chair, his hands settling on her shoulders. "What else is it saying?"

The Shadowheart bloodline has always been destined for greatness beyond mortal comprehension. Why settle for protecting one small community when you could reshape the very foundations of magical society? The power offered through partnership with Malphas transcends any earthly bond.

"It's trying to tempt me," she said, her analytical mind recognizing the manipulation even as part of her responded to the promise of unlimited power. "Making it sound like I'm choosing between small-minded duty and cosmic destiny."

Consider carefully, daughter of shadows. The mate bond that anchors you now will become a chain that limits your true potential. Mortal attachments fade, but the power to command reality itself is eternal. Choose wisely.

"Now it's attacking our bond," Lucien growled, his fingers tightening protectively on her shoulders. "Trying to make you see me as an obstacle instead of support."

The ritual requires only the opening of dimensional barriers. A simple matter for one with your evolved abilities. No sacrifice necessary, no dangerous channeling of life force. Merely the wisdom to embrace what you were born to be.

"That's a lie," Moira said firmly, though she felt a treacherous whisper of relief at the suggestion that the ritual wouldn't cost her everything. "Nothing about dimensional magic is simple, and Malphas wouldn't need my help if freeing him was easy."

Trust in the knowledge passed down through generations of Shadowheart witches. Trust in the power that flows through your veins like liquid starlight. Trust in the destiny that calls you to greatness beyond these provincial concerns.

"The grimoire's final play," Lucien said, his voice dangerously calm. "Appealing to your pride, your intelligence, your desire to matter in the world."

"And it almost sounds reasonable," Moira admitted, closing the book with more force than necessary. "That's what makes it so insidious. The promises wrapped in just enough truth to make them believable."

Moira closed the grimoire and stood, feeling the weight of the fae pendant against her chest and the warmth of Lucien's touch on her shoulders.

Around them, the bookstore hummed with protective energy from dozens of magical contributors, each blessing a reminder that she wasn't facing this challenge alone.

"I'm ready," she said, and she actually meant it. "Whatever Malphas throws at me, whatever temptations or threats he uses, I have something he'll never understand."

"What's that?"

"I have a home worth fighting for," she said, turning to face him with a smile that felt like sunlight. "And a mate who'll anchor me to everything that matters."

The kiss he gave her tasted like promises and courage tea, sweet and strong and absolutely certain. When they broke apart, his forehead resting against hers, Moira knew that whatever the day brought, they would face it together.

After all, some bonds were strong enough to hold against corrupted fae lords, dimensional magic, and even the end of the world.

She was about to find out if theirs was one of them.