Page 25 of Hex and Scales (Mystic Hollow #3)
TWENTY-FIVE
H oney-blonde waves tumbled around Sabine’s shoulders as she leaned closer to her bathroom mirror, attempting to wrangle her hair into something presentable. A familiar warmth bloomed in her chest as her phone chimed with another message from Ren.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for it. Even after their wine-soaked texts last night, she still couldn’t quite believe how things had shifted between them. The screen lit up with his message:
Hope you slept well. Be careful at the archives today. I’ll bring coffee later if you’d like company while you research.
Sabine pressed the phone to her chest, unable to contain her smile. Her tigress stretched languidly beneath her skin, purring at the prospect of seeing him again. The gesture was so thoughtfully domestic—so unlike the cold, distant dragon who’d first walked into her shop.
“You’re grinning like a lovesick teenager,” she told her reflection, but couldn’t summon even an ounce of regret. She typed back: Coffee sounds perfect. Though fair warning—Romi’s been dying to interrogate you about your pastry preferences.
His response came quickly: Should I be concerned?
Only if you don’t like chocolate croissants. She’s been testing recipes.
Suddenly I’m very concerned.
Sabine laughed out loud, the sound echoing off her bathroom tiles. Who knew the mighty Ren Athran had such a playful side? But then, she’d seen so many new sides of him lately—the protective flash in his eyes when she was threatened, the gentle way his fingers lingered whenever they touched, how his stern expression softened into something tender when he looked at her...
The early morning air carried hints of frost as she stepped outside. Her boots clicked against the cobblestones, marking a steady rhythm until movement caught her eye. She stopped short.
Daisies pushed through cracks in the sidewalk, unfurling their petals in rapid succession. Not just one or two—dozens sprouted in her wake, creating an impossible trail of blooms. As she passed the town’s central garden, roses burst into flower, their heavy heads tracking her movement like miniature suns following their source of light.
“Well, that’s different.” She pulled out her phone to document the strange occurrence, but nearly dropped it when nearby tree branches swayed toward her, leaves rustling despite the still air. The hair on her arms stood up, responding to invisible currents of power.
A familiar voice called out behind her. “Fascinating reaction pattern.”
Sabine spun to find Madame Zephyrine studying the wake of blooms with keen interest. The elder witch’s silver hair caught the morning light, and her violet eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement.
“I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Sabine admitted. “The plants seem almost...”
“Drawn to you?” Madame Zephyrine’s knowing smile made Sabine’s cheeks warm. “Magic responds to emotional resonance, dear. When the heart opens to new possibilities, sometimes the world itself celebrates.”
Before Sabine could ask what she meant, the elder witch’s twin materialized beside them. Neve’s expression mirrored her sister’s enigmatic smile.
“The archives await,” Neve reminded them. “Though I suspect today’s research may prove more illuminating than expected.”
The sisters shared one of their silent looks—the kind that made Sabine certain they knew far more than they were saying. But when she opened her mouth to question them, they’d already glided away, leaving only the scent of sage in their wake.
The archives’ heavy oak doors creaked open at her touch, releasing the familiar perfume of old books and ancient magic. Towering shelves stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, their contents humming with power that raised goose bumps along her arms. Somewhere in these depths lay answers about dragon mates—if she could only find them.
“Good morning, Miss Katz.” Otis materialized between the stacks. Today he wore a vest embroidered with tiny magical symbols that shifted and rearranged themselves when she wasn’t looking directly at them. “I’ve gathered the texts you requested about dragon mate bonds. Fascinating subject, really. Did you know that true mates often experience synchronized magical resonance even before they consciously recognize each other?”
“I didn’t,” Sabine said carefully, wondering if everyone in town had somehow coordinated their cryptic hints about her connection to Ren. “Though, lately, it seems like everyone knows more about it than I do.”
Otis adjusted his glasses with a small smile. “Knowledge comes to those who seek it. The dragon mate texts are on the back table, along with some supplementary volumes about recognition patterns. Purely for context, of course.”
She navigated the maze of shelves to find a cozy reading nook tucked away in the archives’ depths. Leather-bound volumes waited in neat stacks, their spines embossed with symbols that seemed to ripple when she looked too long at them. The chair’s worn velvet cushions welcomed her as she settled in with the first book.
The pages crackled as she opened them, releasing a scent like woodsmoke and pine. Words about dragon magic swam before her eyes, and suddenly?—
Blood on stone. Dragon fire illuminating the night. A sword’s edge gleaming with poison. The taste of copper in her mouth as she tried to warn ? —
Sabine gasped as the vision released her so abruptly, she nearly fell from her chair. Several artifacts on nearby shelves began to glow, responding to her turbulent magic. A crystal paperweight spun like a top. Books rattled on their shelves.
“Miss Katz?” Otis’s voice carried a note of concern.
“I’m fine, just...” Another wave hit. The room spun as ancient voices echoed in her mind, speaking words she almost recognized. Her magic surged outward, and artifacts throughout the archives burst to life. Books flew from shelves, pages fluttering like startled birds. Crystals pulsed with rainbow light. A mechanical phoenix spread metal wings and screeched, its ruby eyes tracking her movements.