"By being yourself. By opening your inn and welcoming the community. By proving that you're not going anywhere, regardless of what certain stubborn alpha wolves might prefer."
The idea took root in Lyra's mind like a seed finding fertile ground. She'd inherited the Mist & Mirth Inn for a reason, and it hadn't been so she could hide away feeling sorry for herself while Cade avoided her like she carried a contagious disease.
"The inn isn't ready for guests," she said, though she was already mentally cataloging what would need to be done.
"It doesn't need to be perfect. It just needs to be welcoming." Nico leaned back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. "Besides, nothing says 'I belong here' quite like throwing a party that brings the entire supernatural community together."
"A party?"
"A gathering. An open house. A chance for people to see that the inn is alive again and that its new owner is someone worth knowing." Nico's eyes glittered with the kind of anticipation that suggested he was already planning guest lists. "Say, this weekend? Casual, friendly, the sort of thing that would draw a crowd."
Lyra found herself nodding before she'd fully processed the implications. "This weekend. Right. I can do this weekend."
"Excellent. I'll spread the word through the usual channels."
"Usual channels?"
"Supernatural gossip network. More efficient than social media and twice as reliable." Nico stood, extending a hand to help her up. "One word of advice, though."
"What's that?"
"Don't invite Cade directly. Let him hear about it from someone else and make his own choice about whether to attend."
"You think he'll come?"
"I think he's miserable without you and looking for an excuse to stop being noble about the whole situation," Nico said with the confidence of someone who'd been observing supernatural relationship drama for centuries. "Sometimes pride just needs a convenient excuse to surrender."
As Lyra walked back toward the inn, her mind buzzing with plans and possibilities, she felt something shift in her chest. Herconnection to Cade was still there, still singing with potential, but it no longer felt like a source of rejection and confusion.
Instead, it felt like a promise. A connection that existed whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not.
If Cade thought he could avoid her indefinitely, he was about to learn just how persistent a chaos witch could be when she set her mind to something. And if the town needed proof that she belonged in Mistwhisper Falls, she'd give them a gathering they'd never forget.
The Mist & Mirth Inn was about to come alive again, with or without the approval of one stubborn alpha wolf.
Though privately, Lyra was hoping for "with."
10
LYRA
The Mist & Mirth Inn had never looked better, which wasn't saying much considering it had been empty for two years, but Lyra was proud of what she'd accomplished in seventy-two hours of manic preparation.
She'd spent the first day frantically cleaning, her magic cooperating for once to help with tasks that should have taken a full crew. Dust swirled itself into convenient piles, windows sparkled without cleaner, and cobwebs dissolved at her touch like they'd been waiting for permission to disappear. The inn seemed eager to be welcoming again, its old bones settling into configurations that felt more alive than they had since Vera's death.
The second day had been devoted to decorating and food preparation, with assists from half the supernatural business community. Junie had arrived with enough baked goods to feed a small army, muttering about "that girl working herself to exhaustion" while producing casseroles that smelled like comfort and belonging. The florist—a dryad who grew her own inventory in the shop's backyard—had provided arrangements that literally glowed with health and vitality. Even the localbrewery had donated several kegs of their supernatural-friendly ale, which apparently didn't have the same effects on non-human metabolisms as regular alcohol.
Now, as the sun set on Saturday evening and the first guests began arriving, Lyra stood in the inn's main parlor wearing her best dress—a flowing emerald number that made her copper hair look like fire—and tried to calm her nerves.
"You look beautiful," Junie said, appearing at her elbow with a glass of something that sparkled faintly in the lamplight. "And the inn looks like home again."
Lyra accepted the drink gratefully, noting the way it tasted like confidence and moonlight. "I just hope people actually show up."
"Oh, honey," Junie laughed. "You've got supernatural beings arriving from three counties over. Word spread that the founder inn was hosting again, and everyone wants to see what Vera's granddaughter is made of."
As if summoned by her words, the front door chimed and a group of people entered that made Lyra grateful for Nico's crash course in supernatural species identification. The leader was clearly a vampire—pale skin, perfectly styled hair, and the kind of charisma that made everyone in the room automatically turn to look at him. Behind him came a family of shifters, their easy confidence and protective group dynamic marking them as pack members even in human form.
"Miss Whitaker?" The vampire approached with a smile that managed to be charming without showing fangs. "Marcus Blackwood from the Asheville coven. We've heard wonderful things about the inn's reopening."
