Page 6

As his daughter launched into an enthusiastic description of her progress with emotional grounding techniques, Griff found himself studying Mara's face in the warm light of the kitchen.

She listened to Tilly with the kind of focused attention that made the child feel heard and valued, asking intelligent questions and offering gentle corrections when needed.

"And the best part," Tilly was saying, "is that I can feel when other people's magic is getting upset, and I can help make it calm down. Like right now, Daddy's magic is all fluttery because he's thinking about grown-up things, but I can make it feel better."

Before Griff could ask what she meant, he felt a gentle pulse of energy from his daughter's direction. His bear, which had been pacing restlessly with attraction and uncertainty, suddenly settled into a state of peaceful contentment that felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket.

"Tilly," Mara said gently, "that's a very advanced technique. You shouldn't use your magic on other people without their permission, even when you're trying to help."

"But Daddy likes it," Tilly protested. "I can tell. His magic feels all happy and relaxed now instead of scared and confused."

"That's not the point, sweetheart. Using magic to influence someone else's emotions, even with good intentions, isn't something we do without asking first. It's a matter of respect and consent."

Griff felt his heart do something complicated as he watched Mara handle the delicate balance of encouraging Tilly's abilities while teaching her ethical boundaries.

Sarah had died before their daughter's magic had manifested, leaving him to navigate the complexities of supernatural parenting on his own.

Having someone who understood both the practical and moral aspects of magical education was a gift he hadn't realized he'd needed.

"Miss Mara is right," he said, reaching over to squeeze Tilly's hand. "But I appreciate that you wanted to help. Next time, just ask first, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy. Can I be excused? I want to draw a picture of the shadow friends while I can still remember what they looked like."

After Tilly disappeared upstairs with her art supplies, the kitchen fell into a comfortable silence that was charged with unspoken awareness.

Mara began clearing the dishes, her movements efficient and graceful, while Griff found himself unable to look away from the way the overhead light caught the gold in her hair.

"She's amazing," Mara said softly. "Tilly, I mean. The way she instinctively understands emotional magic, the way she can sense other people's feelings and respond appropriately. That's not something you can teach. It's a gift."

"She gets that from her mother," Griff said, then immediately wondered why he'd brought up Sarah. The last thing he wanted was to make this conversation about his dead mate and the complicated guilt he felt about being attracted to someone else.

"Tell me about her," Mara said, surprising him. "About Sarah."

"Why would you want to know about that?"

"Because she's part of who you are, part of who Tilly is.

And because I can see that you're carrying guilt about moving on, about feeling something for someone else.

" Mara's green eyes were steady and compassionate.

"I'm not threatened by your past, Griff.

I'm not trying to replace anyone or erase any memories. I just want to understand."

The simple honesty of her statement broke something loose in his chest. "She was a healer," he said quietly.

"Not magically, just... naturally gifted at making people feel better.

Tilly gets her empathic abilities from Sarah's side of the family.

She died when Tilly was six months old, magical accident at the clinic where she worked.

Some kind of experimental treatment that went wrong. "

"I'm sorry," Mara said, and the words carried genuine sympathy without the awkward pity that usually accompanied condolences. "It must have been terrifying, suddenly being responsible for a baby on your own."

"Terrifying doesn't begin to cover it," Griff said with a weak laugh. "I knew nothing about babies, less about magic, and absolutely nothing about being a single parent. Most days I still feel like I'm making it up as I go along."

"You're doing better than you think," Mara said firmly. "Tilly is confident, secure, and incredibly well-adjusted for a child dealing with extraordinary circumstances. That doesn't happen by accident."

The approval in her voice made something warm unfurl in his chest. He'd been functioning on parental instinct and desperate improvisation for so long that he'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone acknowledge that he might actually be doing something right.

"The guilt is the worst part," he found himself admitting. "Wondering if I'm making the right choices, if I'm protecting her enough, if I'm somehow failing her by not being able to give her the kind of stable, normal childhood that other kids have."

"Griff," Mara said, moving closer until she was standing directly in front of him.

"There's nothing normal about Tilly's situation, and there's nothing normal about the magical world she's growing up in.

What she needs isn't normal. She needs parents who understand her gifts, who can help her navigate the complexities of supernatural life, and who love her enough to make the hard choices when necessary. "

"Parent," he corrected automatically. "She just has me."

"Does she?" Mara asked softly, and the question hung in the air between them like a bridge waiting to be crossed.

Griff found himself studying her face, noting the way her pupils had dilated slightly and the way her breathing had changed.

She was close enough that he could smell her perfume, something light and floral that made him think of summer gardens and promises of things he'd thought he'd never want again.

"Mara," he said, coming out rough with want and uncertainty.

"I know this is complicated," she said, reaching up to touch his face with fingers that trembled slightly.

"Griff, I need you to know that I'm here. Whatever happens with the supernatural crisis, whatever we're facing with the entity and the bloodlines and all the rest of it, I'm not running away again. We both can’t explain what’s going on between us, but I’m willing to see where this goes. Nico is right, there might be a reason why I’m here. "

The sincerity in her voice, with how she was looking at him like he was something precious and worth fighting for, made it impossible to maintain the emotional distance he'd been trying to preserve.

His bear was rumbling with contentment, his human heart was racing with possibility, and every rational thought he'd had about keeping things professional was dissolving under the weight of how right this felt.

He was leaning toward her, drawn by an attraction that went deeper than physical desire, when the lights in the house suddenly flickered and went out. The temperature in the kitchen dropped ten degrees in as many seconds, and from upstairs came the sound of Tilly's voice raised in fear.

"Daddy! Miss Mara! The shadow friends are back, come, I’ll show them to you!"

The moment shattered like glass, leaving them both breathing hard and staring at each other in the dim light that filtered through the kitchen windows.

Whatever had been building between them would have to wait.

Once again, the supernatural world was demanding their attention, and Tilly needed Grim to be a parent first and everything else second.

But as they rushed upstairs to deal with whatever new crisis was unfolding, Griff couldn't shake the feeling that they'd been interrupted for a reason. Something didn't want them to get closer, didn't want them to form the kind of bond that might make them stronger.

Which meant that whatever was coming for his family was already closer than any of them had realized.