Page 1 of Collar Me Crazy (Hollow Oak Mates #8)
SONYA
T he mist parted like curtains around Sonya's car as she navigated the winding mountain road, and she knew she'd found the right place.
Magic hummed in the air here, thick as honey and twice as sweet.
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as another vision flashed behind her eyes—auburn hair catching firelight, green eyes full of secrets, and a pull so strong it made her bones ache.
"Well, that's new," she muttered, blinking the image away. Her visions had been guiding her for weeks, leading her from her apartment in Asheville to this hidden pocket of the Blue Ridge Mountains. But they'd never been quite so... personal.
The first buildings of Hollow Oak materialized through the enchanted fog, and Sonya's breath caught.
Cobblestone streets wound between charming shops with hand-painted signs, their windows glowing with warm light despite the late afternoon hour.
Ivy climbed stone walls that looked centuries old, and she could swear the autumn leaves were swirling in patterns that had absolutely nothing to do with the wind.
She parked in front of a cozy café with a sign that read "The Griddle & Grind" in cheerful yellow letters.
Through the windows, she glimpsed mismatched furniture, hanging plants, and enough supernatural energy to power a small city.
Seven mated pairs destined by fate. Here, in one small community.
The number hit her like a revelation, explaining the magical saturation that made her skin tingle.
The bell above the door chimed a welcome as she stepped inside, immediately enveloped by the scents of cinnamon, coffee, and something that might have been enchanted vanilla.
A few patrons looked up from their tables, an elderly couple sharing what appeared to be glowing pastries and a group of women whose laughter carried undertones of power.
"Well, well," a voice said from behind the counter. "Look what the visions dragged in."
Sonya turned to find a woman who couldn't have been older than thirty, though something ancient flickered in her light brown eyes. Wheat-colored hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and her smile held secrets that probably predated the town itself.
"Twyla Honeytree, I presume?" Sonya approached the counter, noting how conversations quieted around them. Small-town curiosity, supernatural edition.
"Guilty as charged, sugar." Twyla's gaze swept over her with practiced assessment. "And you're the seer who's been giving the local magic a case of the jitters. Sonya Sibyl, if I'm not mistaken."
"Word travels fast around here."
"Word travels fast in a small town like this, but so far I’m the only one who’s been expecting you" Twyla winked. "What can I get you? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger? You look like you've been driving for days."
"Tea sounds perfect." Sonya settled onto a barstool, grateful for the chance to rest. The pull she'd been feeling grew stronger here, like a compass needle swinging toward magnetic north. "I'm looking for my cousin, Moira Marsh. I heard she lives here now."
"Moira! Sweet girl, married to our resident panther just last year." Twyla bustled around behind the counter, pulling down jars and tins with practiced efficiency. "She'll be at the bookstore with Lucien most afternoons. You two favor each other around the eyes, you know."
The tea service that appeared seemed to materialize from thin air with delicate china cups, a pot that steamed with more than heat, and cookies that definitely hadn't been there moments before. Sonya wrapped her hands around the warm cup, letting the herbal blend calm her travel-frayed nerves.
"So," Twyla leaned against the counter, chin propped on her hand. "What brings a witch-seer all the way to our little corner of nowhere? And don't tell me it's just a family visit. I can smell destiny on you from here, argo how the cards told me you’d be arriving."
"That obvious, huh?" Sonya took a sip of tea and nearly sighed as warmth spread through her body. Whatever Twyla had brewed was working better than any healing potion she'd ever tried. "My visions have been... insistent lately. All roads leading here."
"Visions about what, exactly?"
Sonya hesitated. The auburn-haired man felt too personal to share, too raw and immediate. "Change coming to Hollow Oak. Big change. The kind that reshapes everything."
Twyla's expression sharpened. "Change can be good or bad, depending on how you look at it."
"That's what I'm here to figure out." Sonya drained her cup and immediately felt steadier, more centered. "This place, it's incredible. I can feel the magic in the very foundations."
"Seven mated pairs will do that to a town's energy grid we’ve noticed," Twyla said casually, refilling the cup without being asked. "Each bond seems to strengthen the Veil, keeping us tucked away safely from threats. Though lately..."
"Lately?"
"Oh, nothing concrete. Just a feeling, you know? Like the air before a thunderstorm." Twyla's fae blood showed in the way shadows seemed to dance around her fingers as she spoke. "But then, maybe that's just because we've all been waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"For you, sugar." Twyla's smile turned knowing. "Or rather, for what you're going to set in motion. Destiny has a way of announcing itself around here, and you, my dear, are practically humming with it."
Before Sonya could respond, the door chimed again, and a woman with auburn waves rushed in, her apron dusted with what looked like soil and crushed herbs.
"Twyla, I need three chamomile blends and whatever you've got for anxiety," the newcomer said breathlessly. "Kieran's being impossible about the sanctuary donations again, and I swear if he doesn't stop—" She stopped mid-sentence, noticing Sonya. "Oh. Sorry."
"Freya Bloom, meet Sonya Sibyl," Twyla said smoothly. "Moira's cousin, just arrived from parts unknown."
"Moira's cousin!" Freya's face lit up. "She's mentioned you. The seer, right? I'm Freya, I run the herbal apothecary down the street."
"Nice to meet you." Sonya studied Freya's face, noting the stress lines around her green eyes. "Sanctuary donations?"
"Oh, it's nothing really. Just Kieran being his usual stubborn self about accepting help." Freya waved a hand dismissively. "There's this animal sanctuary outside town, and the owner could use some financial support, but he's too proud to take it directly. So we have to get creative."
"The owner?"
"Ryker Dusk," Freya said. "Sweet guy, keeps to himself mostly. Takes in injured supernatural creatures, gives them a safe place to heal. He's done amazing work out there, but?—"
The vision hit without warning. Auburn hair wild with wind, strong hands gentle on a wounded bird's wing, green eyes that held depths of loneliness she recognized in her own mirror. Sonya's cup rattled against its saucer as the image faded.
"You okay there?" Twyla's voice seemed to come from very far away.
"Fine," Sonya managed, though her hands were shaking slightly. "Just tired from the drive."
But Twyla's knowing look suggested she wasn't buying it for a second. Neither was Freya, who was studying Sonya with the sharp attention of someone who understood magic's unexpected moments.
"Tell you what," Twyla said, reaching under the counter to produce a small paper bag. "Why don't you take some of these cookies to Moira? Consider it a welcome-to-town gift. She'll be at the Book Nook until closing, and Lucien makes excellent coffee if you need another caffeine fix."
"Thank you." Sonya stood, leaving money on the counter despite Twyla's protests. "Both of you. This place feels like home already."
"That's the point, honey," Twyla called as Sonya headed toward the door. "Hollow Oak has a way of calling its own."
Outside, the early evening air carried scents of woodsmoke and approaching winter.
Sonya paused on the sidewalk, letting her senses adjust to the magical currents flowing through the town like underground rivers.
Seven mated pairs, their bonds weaving protection and power into the very stones beneath her feet.
But there was something else, too. A restless energy, a sense of incompleteness that made her skin prickle with awareness. As if the magical equation wasn't quite balanced yet.
As if it was waiting for one more piece to fall into place or to tip the scales entirely.
She pulled her jacket tighter and headed toward the bookstore, following both Twyla's directions and the increasingly insistent pull in her chest. Whatever had drawn her to Hollow Oak, whatever change her visions had been attempting to show her, it was close now.
Very close indeed.