Page 5 of Furever Bound (Hollow Oak Mates #7)
SERA
S era's carefully planned approach to charming the local historian crashed and burned spectacularly the moment she stepped inside Dr. Maddox Thorn's home.
The "lovely, scholarly hermit" Miriam had described turned out to be a devastatingly attractive man who couldn't be much older than thirty-five, with dark hair that looked like he ran his fingers through it when thinking and piercing blue eyes that currently regarded her with fascinating intensity.
"Folklore," she repeated carefully, trying to ignore the way her hand still tingled from where they'd touched. "Not folk-lore."
"Better." His tone suggested she'd passed the first test in a series she hadn't known she was taking.
Dr. Maddox Thorn radiated the kind of quiet intellectual authority that made her want to simultaneously prove herself and step closer to that carefully controlled energy.
Everything about him screamed academic sophistication, from his wire-rimmed glasses to the way he moved through his space with confident precision.
"Your home is incredible," she said, following him into what could only be described as a scholar's paradise.
Floor-to- ceiling bookshelves lined every wall, organized with the kind of meticulous precision that made her slightly chaotic apartment back in Nashville look like a hurricane had hit it.
Filing cabinets bore labels written in actual calligraphy, and reading nooks were placed to catch all the natural light streaming through diamond-paned windows.
The atmosphere whispered of serious scholarship and deep knowledge, the kind of intellectual sanctuary she'd never had reason to enter before.
"It serves its purpose," he said dismissively, though she caught a note of pride underneath the modesty.
But what really stole her breath was the phoenix.
She'd heard about them in passing—rare supernatural creatures that occasionally appeared in documentaries about magical wildlife.
But seeing one in person, perched casually on a custom stand like the world's most exotic pet, drove home just how little she understood about the world she'd stumbled into.
"She really is magnificent," Sera said, watching Ember preen copper feathers that seemed to catch light in impossible ways. "I've never seen a phoenix in person before. They're incredibly rare, aren't they?"
"Ember's been with me for seven years." His tone suggested this was perfectly normal, like having a mythical bird as a companion was just another Tuesday. "She has particular opinions about visitors."
The phoenix in question fixed Sera with another evaluating stare, those ancient amber eyes seeming to catalogue her worth.
In her old life, being assessed by exotic pets would have meant photo opportunities and brand partnerships.
Here, it felt like being judged by something far older and wiser than herself.
"I'm honored she's letting me stay," Sera said sincerely, and meant it.
"Don't take it personally. She's curious about why you're here." Maddox moved toward a section of shelves devoted entirely to what looked like folklore collections. "Now, what specifically are you hoping to learn about Hollow Oak's traditions?"
Sera followed him, trying not to gawk at the sheer volume of knowledge surrounding her. She'd graduated with a communications degree and built a successful career, but this level of scholarship made her feel like she was playing dress-up in the adult world.
"Miriam mentioned local legends, families with special gifts, that sort of thing." She kept her voice carefully professional, though her pulse quickened at being in his orbit. "I'm interested in how these stories shaped the community's identity."
"And you plan to share these stories with eight hundred and fifty thousand strangers." It wasn't a question, and his tone made it clear he was testing her motivations.
"I believe in the power of storytelling to connect people," she said, lifting her chin. "These traditions deserve to be preserved and shared, not locked away where only academics can access them."
"Preserved and shared are two very different things." He pulled a thick volume from the shelf, its leather binding worn smooth by countless hands. "Context matters. Understanding matters. Respect matters."
"I understand that," she said, frustration bleeding into her voice despite her best efforts to remain professional. "I'm not some vapid influencer looking to exploit your culture for likes."
Except part of her was exactly that, and they both seemed to know it. The partial lie sat uncomfortably on her tongue.
"Aren't you?" He turned to face her fully, and the quiet intensity in his gaze made her stomach flutter in ways that had nothing to do with intimidation. "What's your background in folklore studies? Anthropology? Cultural preservation?"
"I have a communications degree," she admitted, hating how inadequate it sounded in this temple of serious scholarship. "But I've built a career on understanding what connects with people, on finding the human stories that matter."
"Communications." He repeated the word like he was tasting it. "Social media marketing, I assume."
"Among other things." Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and growing irritation. "But I'm here to learn, not just to take. I want to understand these stories properly."
"Do you." Again, not a question.
"Yes, I do." She stepped closer, drawn by some combination of anger and attraction that made no logical sense. "I know you've already decided I'm some shallow social media butterfly, but maybe you could give me the benefit of the doubt for five minutes."
"I haven't decided anything," he said, but his tone suggested he was reassessing her in real time.
They were standing closer now, close enough that she could catch the scent of cedar and old books that seemed to cling to him. Close enough to notice the way his jaw tightened when he was thinking, and the silver threading through his dark hair that caught the afternoon light.
He reached for another book from a higher shelf, the same volume she'd been stretching toward. Their hands collided in the narrow space, skin brushing skin, and an electric shock passed between them that left her breathless and aching.
The sensation was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Recognition, maybe, or rightness. Like her body had been waiting her entire life for exactly this touch, this moment, this impossibly frustrating man who looked at her like she was a puzzle he wanted to solve.
She jerked her hand back, heart hammering against her ribs. "Sorry, I didn't see you reaching?—"
But when she looked at his face, he appeared equally stunned. Those piercing blue eyes had gone wide behind his glasses, and his carefully controlled expression had cracked to reveal something raw and vulnerable.
Then he blinked, and the walls came back up. But not completely—she could still see the awareness simmering underneath his professional demeanor.
"Perhaps we should establish some ground rules," he said, his voice rougher than before. "If you're serious about learning rather than simply collecting content."
"Of course." She managed to keep her own voice steady, though her hand still tingled where they'd touched. "Whatever you think is appropriate."
But even as she spoke, her mind raced with questions.
What was a man with a phoenix doing in a small mountain town? How many other impossible things existed in Hollow Oak that she'd dismissed as quaint local character? And why did touching him feel like being struck by lightning in the best possible way?
"We'll start with basic respect for the material," he continued, pulling the book down with careful precision. "No recording without permission. No photographs of texts. No sharing of specific details without context."
"Understood." She nodded, though part of her attention remained fixed on his hands as he handled the ancient volume. Strong hands, with long fingers and calluses that suggested he did more than just turn pages.
"And if you're going to mispronounce terminology, do it quietly."
The comment stung, but she caught something underneath the barb—not just academic snobbery, but genuine protectiveness. He cared about these stories in ways that went beyond professional interest.
"Deal," she said, and found herself meaning it.
Whatever had just happened between them, whatever that electric shock meant, she was going to figure it out. Along with everything else about this mysterious town and its infuriatingly attractive historian.