Page 2 of Mate Night Snack (Hollow Oak Mates #2)
EMMETT
E mmett Hollowell didn’t like being watched.
He sure as hell didn’t like doing the watching, either, but here he was, standing at the moss-ringed edge of the Council Glade, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes locked on the woman striding down Hollow Oak’s main street like she already owned a piece of it.
She was all legs and attitude, that one.
Backpack slung casual over her shoulder, black waves of hair bouncing with every step, a worn leather satchel bumping against her hip.
She moved like someone who didn’t care she was being observed.
Like someone used to poking sleeping things just to see what they'd do.
He’d seen that type before. City kind. Fast-talking, fast-thinking, always with too many questions and not enough instinct to leave well enough alone.
She wasn’t dressed for the mountains either.
Ripped jeans, old boots, a jacket full of buttons and snark.
The kind of clothes that said I’ve seen things, but her eyes?
Hazel and sharp as broken glass. Those said I’m still looking.
Maeve's voice hummed low beside him. “She’s already been to the café and the inn. Talked to Twyla. Smelled like oranges and curiosity.”
Emmett didn’t answer right away. His focus stayed on the woman—Katniss, Miriam had said. Even her name grated. Pointed. Like something you might bleed from.
“She’s not just visiting,” he muttered.
“Nope,” Maeve replied, popping the p. “Miriam confirmed it. Said she’s got gear. Recording stuff. Spoke into a mic when she thought no one was watching.”
Emmett’s brow twitched. “Podcast.”
Maeve tilted her head. “You know what that is?”
“I don’t live under a rock.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He cut her a look. She grinned.
The Glade rustled behind them, a low whisper of leaves and old magic. Varric and the others had already gone back to council business. Sent Emmett and Maeve with one clear task: Keep the newcomer out of trouble. Keep her out of the woods. And, for the gods’ sake, don’t let her stir up old ghosts.
What made it harder was that this was a simple human. One who may believe in ghosts, but unaware of what type of town she had actually walked into.
Emmett didn’t care much for orders. But he cared even less for strangers sniffing around things better left buried.
“I’ll handle it,” he said.
Maeve lifted a brow. “Thought you might say that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means you’ve got a look,” she said, nodding toward the woman across the square. “Like a wolf who just caught scent of something he doesn’t know what to do with.”
Emmett rolled his shoulders. “She’s nosy.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Don’t start.”
Maeve held up her hands, amused. “Hey, if you want to pretend she doesn’t make your hackles rise, be my guest. Just don’t let her walk into the damn woods.”
Emmett didn’t reply.
She was already halfway to the edge of the trail.
He intercepted her just past the Silver Fang. The trees loomed tall here, thick with shadow and the hum of distant power. Most folks didn’t notice. Most folks didn’t make it this far.
But she wasn’t most folks.
“You lost?” he asked, stepping into her path.
Katniss didn’t flinch. She just stopped and looked him up and down like she was appraising a brick wall she was half-considering punching through.
“Nope. Just walking.”
“This isn’t a good place to wander.”
“Says the guy lurking in the trees like a serial killer.”
He huffed. “You don’t belong out here.”
“Funny. That’s the second time you’ve said that.”
“And you’re still not listening.”
She crossed her arms. “Is this town always this friendly, or am I just special?”
“You’re stirring things.”
“Like what? Tea?”
“Don’t be cute.”
“I’m not. I’m difficult.”
That earned her a sliver of his mouth twitching. Not quite a smile. More like his face forgot it didn’t do those anymore.
Katniss leaned a little closer, like she was trying to read between the lines he hadn't spoken yet. He didn’t like the way his pulse answered her nearness, didn’t like the way her scent curled under his skin—bright citrus and something older, quieter.
Something threaded with the woods already. That wasn’t normal.
“You always this charming?” she asked.
“Only for special guests.”
“Well, congrats. You’re killing it.”
Emmett stepped back before he did something stupid. Like smile again.
“You shouldn’t be poking around here. This place runs different. The folks here don’t take kindly to strangers digging up what’s meant to stay put.”
Her expression flickered, just for a second, then snapped right back to cocky.
“Good thing I’m not here for anyone’s kindness,” she said.
He should’ve walked away. Should’ve let Maeve take this one. But he stood there instead, watching her disappear into the café again, watching the way the door swung shut like it didn’t want to close behind her.
That night, he sat on the porch of his cabin with a beer sweating in his hand and the weight of the council’s words still heavy on his shoulders.
Keep her close. Keep her quiet.
The beer did nothing to quiet his thoughts.
The woods whispered. They always did this time of year. Veil ran thinner when the moon turned waning. Trees leaned in, trails shifted underfoot. It wasn’t dangerous unless something called it forward.
Problem was, people like her? They called things. Without even knowing.
His wolf paced inside him. Restless. Hadn’t stirred this much in months.
“She’s not for you,” he said out loud, as if that might settle it.
The wolf didn’t agree.
It didn’t make sense. She was human. Mortal. Fragile in the way humans always were. Her skin too soft, bones too breakable. Except she hadn’t looked fragile, not really. She looked like trouble with a flashlight and a notebook. She looked like a question with no easy answer.
And her scent… it still clung to his memory, just beneath the sharpness of pine and firewood.
Emmett stared into the trees. If she kept pushing, she'd find things no one wanted to talk about. Things that hadn’t healed right. Not for the town. Not for him. Things that were better to stay buried, not for convenience, but for safety.
The wind shifted. Cold. Carrying the faintest echo of something old.
He set the beer down and stood.
The trail toward the inn cut through a thicket that only locals used. The Veil usually didn’t let outsiders find it. But if she had seer blood…
He shook the thought loose. No point in chasing shadows. Not yet.
Still, he’d be at the Glade in the morning. He’d tell Varric about the interaction. He’d make sure someone stayed ahead of whatever storm she was about to bring with her.
Because if Katniss Greaves kept nosing around Hollow Oak’s secrets, it wasn’t just her that’d end up broken.
It might be all of them.