Page 5

FOUR

GRIFF

T he Cooper house felt different with Mara's belongings scattered through it, as if her presence had somehow expanded the walls and filled the rooms with warmth that had been missing since Sarah's death.

Griff tried not to think about how right it felt to come home from another emergency meeting at the preserve and find her humming in his kitchen, her honey-blonde hair escaping from its messy bun as she prepared what smelled like the first home-cooked meal his house had seen in months.

"How did the meeting go?" Mara asked without turning around, her hands busy chopping vegetables with the kind of efficient grace that spoke of years spent preparing healing remedies.

She'd moved in that morning after Nico's revelation about the bloodlines, bringing two duffel bags of clothes and enough magical herbs to transform his spare bedroom into an apothecary that made the air smell like summer gardens and ancient wisdom.

"About as well as expected when you're trying to explain to a room full of supernatural community leaders that their town is sitting on top of a cosmic horror story," Griff said, hanging his jacket on the back of a kitchen chair and trying not to notice how Mara's presence made even that simple domestic action feel significant.

"Dr. Thorne thinks we have maybe forty-eight hours before whatever's been terrorizing the town finds another way to manifest."

"And Sheriff Maddox?"

"Leo thinks we should evacuate the entire town and let the Regional Supernatural Authority handle it with their specialized containment teams." Griff rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that was becoming habitual as the stress of the situation mounted.

"Problem is, according to Nico's research, running away isn't going to solve anything.

This entity has been specifically hunting the bloodlines it needs, and it'll just follow us wherever we go. "

Mara finally turned to face him, her green eyes soft with understanding and something deeper that made his chest tighten with emotions he wasn't ready to name. "And you're caught in the middle, trying to protect Tilly while knowing that protecting her might mean putting her in more danger."

"Story of my life as a single parent," Griff said, attempting humor to deflect from the way she seemed to see straight through his carefully constructed defenses.

"Just usually the dangers are things like playground bullies and homework deadlines, not ancient cosmic entities with a grudge against my ancestors. "

"Where is Tilly now?"

"Upstairs, practicing the grounding exercises you taught her this morning.

" Griff's expression softened as he thought about his daughter's progress.

"It's working, Mara. Since her magic started manifesting, she's not afraid of it.

She actually fell asleep for her nap without any of her usual anxiety about nightmares. "

"She's a remarkable child," Mara said, returning to her cooking with movements that were unconsciously graceful.

"Her power is incredibly complex, but she has the kind of instinctive control that usually takes years to develop.

It's like she was born knowing how to harmonize different types of magic instead of fighting them. "

"Is that normal for someone with multiple bloodline influences?"

"Nothing about Tilly's magical signature is normal," Mara said honestly. "But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes the most powerful gifts come from combinations that shouldn't work but do anyway."

She was wearing one of her vintage floral dresses, this one in shades of green that complemented her eyes and made her look like she'd stepped out of a painting of idealized domesticity.

The sight of her moving around his kitchen, making it feel like a home instead of just a place where he and Tilly ate meals and avoided difficult conversations, did things to his heart that he'd thought were safely buried with his mate.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he said, the words emerging rougher than he'd intended. "Cook for us, I mean. You're here to help with Tilly's training, not to play house."

Mara's hands stilled on the wooden spoon she'd been using to stir something that smelled like heaven and probably had magical properties he didn't want to think about too closely.

When she looked at him, her expression held a mix of hurt and determination that made him immediately regret his choice of words.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" she asked quietly. "Playing house?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Griff said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew he was making things worse.

The truth was that having her in his space, seeing her care for his daughter with the kind of natural maternal instinct that made Tilly bloom like a flower in sunlight, was breaking down walls he'd built to protect himself from exactly this kind of vulnerability.

They had known each other for a short time, but he already viewed her differently.

It was like something was pushing them together, and his bear liked her.

"Yes, you did," Mara said, but her tone held understanding rather than anger. "You meant it exactly like that, because acknowledging that I'm here because I want to be here, because taking care of you and Tilly feels right in ways I can't explain, is dangerous."

The air in the kitchen suddenly felt charged with more than just the magical energy that always surrounded Mara.

The attraction that had been simmering between them since their first meeting at the market crystallized into something that made it hard to breathe, hard to think about anything except the way her lips were slightly parted and the way her pulse was visible at the base of her throat.

"Mara," he called out like a prayer or a warning.

"I know," she said softly. "I know you're not ready. Heck, we’ve only know each other for roughly around three days.

But Griff, I need you to understand something.

I'm not Sarah. I'm not going to disappear or leave you broken.

And I'm not some fragile flower that needs protecting from the complicated realities of your life. "

Before he could respond, the sound of small feet on the stairs announced Tilly's arrival. His daughter appeared in the kitchen doorway, her dark curls mussed from her nap and her amber eyes oozing with energy that meant her magic was running close to the surface.

"Something smells really good," she said, then stopped and tilted her head with that bird-like curiosity that marked her fae heritage. "Why does the air taste like sparkles?"

Griff felt heat rise in his cheeks as he realized that his emotional response to Mara had been strong enough to affect the magical atmosphere of the room.

His bear was practically purring with contentment at having both females in his territory, while his human consciousness was struggling with the implications of how right this domestic scene felt.

"Miss Mara is making dinner," he said, his voice more controlled than he felt. "How was your nap?"

"Good. The shadow friends stayed quiet the whole time, and I didn't have any scary dreams." Tilly moved to Mara's side, automatically reaching for the apron strings to help with dinner preparations. "Can I help? I promise I won't make anything explode."

"You can set the table," Mara said, handing her the silverware with a smile that transformed her entire face. "And you've never made anything explode, sweetheart. Your magic is much more careful than that."

As Tilly busied herself with the table settings, chattering about her afternoon practice session and the new ways she'd learned to make her power feel "smooth instead of bumpy," Griff found himself watching the easy interaction between the two females with something that felt suspiciously like longing.

This was what he'd thought he'd lost forever when Sarah died. Not just romantic love, but the sense of completeness that came from having a partner who understood both him and his daughter, who could step seamlessly into their lives and make everything feel more stable and secure.

"Daddy, you're making the flowers grow," Tilly said, interrupting his thoughts.

Griff looked around the kitchen and realized that the small potted herbs Mara had placed on the windowsill were indeed responding to his emotional state, their leaves reaching toward him with obvious magical interest. More embarrassingly, several of them had started blooming out of season, their flowers opening in response to what was apparently a very obvious romantic attraction.

"Sorry," he muttered, trying to rein in his feelings before they affected anything else in the house.

"Don't apologize," Mara said, her voice holding a note of wonder. "I've never seen plants respond to bear magic before. It's beautiful."

"It's inconvenient," Griff said, but his protest lacked conviction.

The truth was that he'd never experienced his magic responding to someone else's presence in ways that felt harmonious rather than territorial.

Usually, his bear was protective to the point of aggression around anyone who got too close to his family.

With Mara, it was the opposite. His animal instincts were encouraging him to claim her, to make her a permanent part of his territory and his life.

"Dinner's ready," Mara announced, serving generous portions of what turned out to be some kind of magical stew that tasted like comfort food and healing herbs combined. "Tilly, why don't you tell us about what you learned in your practice session?"