Page 12 of The Right to Bear Claws (Hollow Oak Mates #6)

KAIA

" H and me that string of lights, would you?" Twyla called from her perch on a stepladder outside the Griddle & Grind. "And don't give me that look, Kaia. I've been climbing ladders since before you were born."

Kaia passed up the amber lights, marveling at how the simple task of decorating for Halloween could feel so normal and wonderful. "I wasn't giving you a look. I was admiring your color coordination skills."

"Flatterer." Twyla's laugh tinkled like wind chimes. "Though you're not wrong. Takes a fae eye to get the autumn balance just right."

"Speaking of balance," Maeve's voice came from across the street where she was wrestling with an oversized scarecrow, "could one of you explain why this thing weighs forty pounds? What did Edgar stuff it with, lead shot?"

"Protective herbs," Edgar Tansley called back from the Hollow Mercantile's doorway. "Blessed salt, iron filings, and a few other things that'll keep unwanted spirits from getting too comfortable during the festival."

"Of course it is," Kaia muttered, but she was smiling. A couple days of helping with Halloween preparations had taught her that nothing in Hollow Oak was ever just what it seemed. Every decoration served a dual purpose, every seemingly innocent festival element carried protective magic woven into its very fabric. She thought it had been decorated before when her and Elias walked through, but apparently, that was everyone’s personal touch, not the town’s.

"Don't sound so surprised," Twyla said, securing the last of her lights. "You've been here long enough to know we take our supernatural security seriously."

"I'm learning." Kaia stepped back to admire their handiwork. "It's just... different from anywhere else I've lived."

"Good different or bad different?"

"Good," she said softly. "Definitely good."

The admission was true, which made everything else so much harder.

Every day in Hollow Oak revealed new layers of belonging she'd never experienced.

Helping with the festival preparations, having people ask for her opinions like they mattered, working alongside neighbors who'd become friends without her even noticing the transition.

And then there was Elias.

"Speak of the devil," Twyla said with obvious satisfaction. "Here comes your shadow now."

Kaia turned to see Elias approaching with a steaming to-go cup from the café, his timing so perfect it couldn't be coincidental.

He'd been doing this for days now—appearing with her favorite coffee exactly when she needed a break, materializing with helpful tools whenever she was struggling with a task, somehow always nearby without making her feel watched or suffocated.

"Thought you might need fuel," he said, offering her the cup with that small smile that made her stomach flutter. "Extra shot, light cream, just a touch of cinnamon."

"You remember how I like my coffee."

"I remember everything about you."

The simple statement, delivered in his quiet, matter-of-fact tone, made heat creep up her neck. "Thank you. For this, and for... everything else."

"My pleasure."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Twyla muttered from her ladder. "You two are going to give me cavities with all that sweetness. Elias, make yourself useful and help me down from here."

He moved to steady the ladder while Twyla descended, but his eyes never left Kaia's face. "How's the decorating going?"

"Good. Really good, actually." She gestured toward Main Street, where the Halloween transformation was taking shape. "It's amazing how much the whole town's gotten involved. I've never been part of anything like this before."

"Community events are kind of our specialty," he said. "Wait until you see the Winter Solstice celebration. Twyla goes completely overboard with the lighting effects."

Wait until you see. The casual assumption that she'd still be here in December made her chest tight with longing and guilt.

She wanted to be here for the solstice celebration, wanted to help plan it and see Twyla's lighting magic and spend the holidays surrounded by these wonderful people that she had gotten to know.

But wanting things didn't make them safe.

"Kaia?" Elias's voice held concern. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Just thinking about everything that needs to be done before Halloween," she said quickly. "Speaking of which, I should probably head over to the Book Nook. Lucien said he had some references that might help with the historical accuracy of our decorations."

It wasn't entirely a lie. She did need to visit the bookstore, just not for the reasons she'd implied.

"I'll walk you," Elias offered.

Before she could find a reason for him to not go, Maeve called for his help with her scarecrow situation.

She touched his arm briefly, a contact that sent warmth racing through her system. "Thank you. For the coffee, for always thinking of me."

His silver eyes searched her face like he was trying to read some hidden message. "Anytime."

The Book Nook's familiar scent of old paper and ink wrapped around Kaia like a comforting blanket when she stepped inside. Lucien looked up from behind the counter, his green eyes taking in her expression with feline perception.

"Let me guess," he said. "You're not here for decoration research."

"Is it that obvious?"

"You have the look of someone carrying heavy secrets." He gestured toward the back of the store. "What are you really looking for?"

Kaia glanced around to make sure they were alone, then moved closer to the counter. "Information about dreamwalking. Specifically, about entities that can use dreamwalkers as anchors to the physical world."

Lucien's expression grew serious. "That's some dangerous territory you're exploring."

"I know. But I need to understand what I'm dealing with. The dreams are getting worse, and I think... I think I might be putting everyone in danger just by being here."

"Ah." Understanding flickered across his features. "You think running away will solve the problem."

"Won't it? If I'm not here, if there's no anchor for this thing to use..."

"Then it finds another anchor. Or follows you wherever you go.

" Lucien moved from behind the counter, heading toward a section of books that seemed older and more worn than the rest. "Dreamwalkers aren't easily replaceable, Kaia.

If this entity has invested time and energy in claiming you, it's not going to give up just because you change geographic locations. "

"So what are you saying? I'm stuck with this thing forever?"

"I'm saying running away rarely solves supernatural problems. It just relocates them." He pulled down a leather-bound volume that looked like it belonged in a museum. "But there might be other solutions. What exactly has this entity told you about your connection?"

Kaia hesitated, then decided honesty was her only option. "It says I made a bargain when I was young. Promised to serve as its anchor in exchange for understanding my abilities. But I don't remember making any such deal."

"Memory suppression is common in childhood supernatural encounters," Lucien said, opening the book carefully. "Especially when the deal involves future consequences the child couldn't possibly understand. Here, look at this."

He showed her a page covered in dense text and intricate diagrams. "Historical accounts of anchor bonds. Most of them involved children who were desperate, isolated, or in immediate danger. The entities promised power, knowledge, or safety in exchange for future service."

"That sounds about right," Kaia said grimly. "I was all three of those things when I was little."

"The good news is that childhood bargains aren't legally binding by most supernatural law. The bad news is that the entities don't usually care about legal technicalities."

"So how do I break it?"

"Several methods are documented here. Ritual cleansing, spiritual intervention, power transference..." Lucien paused, studying one particular passage. "Or anchor replacement."

"What does that mean?"

"Instead of breaking the bond entirely, you replace the entity's anchor with something else. A stronger connection to the physical world that overrides the original bargain."

Kaia felt a flutter of hope. "Like what?"

"Like a mate bond with a supernatural being. The emotional and spiritual connection provides an alternative anchor that's much harder for dream entities to corrupt or control."

The hope immediately curdled into dread. "You're talking about Elias."

"I'm talking about options. If you chose to pursue a mate bond with him, it would create a protective barrier around your consciousness that dream entities couldn't easily penetrate."

"And if I chose wrong? If the bond didn't work, or if I made things worse?" She closed the book with more force than necessary. "I won't risk his life because of my problems."

"What makes you think you have that choice?"

The quiet question made her look up sharply. Lucien's green eyes held sympathy but also uncompromising honesty.

"Elias is already involved, whether you like it or not," he continued. "He's claimed you as his mate in every way that matters except the formal bonding–”

“He’s what?” Kaia asked not really understanding or believing what she was hearing.

Lucien looked regretful for a moment as if he said too much. “All I mean is he… He doesn’t want you to go anywhere. He’s very… attached. And if this entity decides to use him against you, it won't matter whether you've officially accepted the connection between you both or not."

"Then I definitely need to leave."

"Or you could stay and fight. Accept what’s already formed and use it to protect both of you."

"I don't know how to fight something like this."

"You don't have to fight it alone." Lucien's voice gentled. "That's the whole point of pack bonds, community connections, mate relationships. They make you stronger than you could ever be on your own."

Kaia stared at the closed book, mind churning with possibilities and fears. She thought about Elias's patient courtship, the way he remembered her coffee preferences and carved wind chimes to help her sleep. The way he made her feel by simply being near.

"I need to think about this," she said finally.

"Don't think too long," Lucien warned. "Halloween's in seven days, and if your dreams are accurate, that's when this entity plans to make its move. Whatever you decide, decide soon."

The walk to the inn felt longer than usual, weighed down by the knowledge she'd gained and the choices she faced. Stay and risk everyone she cared about, or run and face the entity's wrath alone.

Either way, someone was going to get hurt.

"You're brooding again," Miriam observed when Kaia entered the inn's common room. "Did Lucien's books give you bad news?"

"Complicated news," Kaia corrected, settling into her favorite chair by the window. "I'm not sure there are any good options left."

"There are always options, dear. Sometimes they're just harder to see when you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"What if the weight belongs there? What if I really am dangerous to everyone around me?"

Miriam set down her knitting and fixed Kaia with a stern look. "I've been running this inn for thirty years. I've housed runaway werewolves, reformed vampires, and at least three witches who were actively being pursued by supernatural bounty hunters. You know what I learned from all of them?"

"What?"

"The people who worry about being dangerous to others are usually the least dangerous ones. It's the people who don't care about the consequences who cause real harm."

"But what if caring isn't enough?"

"Then you find people who care about you and let them help carry the burden." Miriam picked up her knitting again, needles clicking with quiet efficiency. "That's what family does, sweet girl. And like it or not, you've got one now."

Through the window, Kaia could see Elias across the street, helping Finn and Thorin install decorative lighting around the town square. His movements were efficient and careful, and every few minutes his gaze would drift toward the inn like he was checking on her even while focused on other tasks.

Seven days to figure out if she was brave enough to stop running and start fighting for the life she'd found in Hollow Oak.