Cade's truck ate up the miles between the preserve and Founder's Row, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The magical disturbance was tapering off, but he could still feel it like a low-grade fever in his bones. Whatever had happened, it was big enough to wake things that should have stayed sleeping.
The inn's front door was standing open, which was either a good sign or a very bad one. Cade could smell magic in the air—wild and chaotic and tinged with something ancient that made his wolf pace restlessly. But underneath it was something else, something that made every protective instinct he possessed roar to life.
Honey and copper and summer storms. Female. Powerful. His.
"Hello?" he called, stepping through the front door. "Is anyone here?"
No answer, but the scent trail led toward the kitchen. Cade followed it, his senses on high alert. The inn felt different than it had two years ago—more alive, more aware. Magic clung to the walls like residue, and he could see the ghostly impressions of recent spellwork in the way the dust had been disturbed.
The cellar door was open, and from the basement came a faint glow that definitely wasn't electric lighting.
Cade took the stairs three at a time, following the scent and the pull of something his wolf recognized even if his human brain was still catching up. The cellar had been transformed—what had once been a storage space was now revealed as something far more significant. Ancient stones formed a pattern on the floor.
In the center, a woman lay unconscious with her palm pressed against a cracked obsidian stone that pulsed with dying light.
She was beautiful in the way of summer storms—all wild copper curls and golden skin dusted with freckles. Even unconscious, she radiated power that made his wolf want to roll over and show his throat. But it was her scent that nearly brought him to his knees.
Mate. His wolf's voice was certain and smug. Finally.
"Oh, hell," Cade muttered, kneeling beside her and checking for a pulse. Strong and steady, though her skin was burning up. Whatever she'd touched, it had channeled enough power through her to light up half the county. "What did you do?"
He tried to pull her fingers free of the rune, though her palm seemed fused to its surface. The moment he touched her, though, her magic recognized his. The chaotic energy that had been crackling around her like static electricity calmed, drawn to the steady anchor of his wolf.
Her eyes snapped open, amber shot with gold, and focused on his face with surprising clarity.
"You have really nice eyes," she said conversationally, then passed out again.
Cade sat back on his heels, staring down at the unconscious woman who'd just turned his carefully ordered world upside down. The stone under her palm was definitely a founder's rune—he'd heard enough stories from the elders to recognize one. But founder's runes were supposed to be dormant, their power bound safely away from anyone who might accidentally trigger them.
Clearly, no one had informed Vera's granddaughter about that particular safety feature.
The rune's glow was fading, but the crack in its surface seemed to glowed with an independent heartbeat. Whatever she'd awakened, it wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. And if his instincts were right, this was just the beginning.
Cade gathered the unconscious witch into his arms, her magic humming contentedly against his skin, and headed for the stairs. He needed to get her somewhere safe, call the council, and figure out what the hell they were dealing with.
But first, he had to resist the urge to carry her straight to his den and keep her there until he was certain she was safe. His wolf was making increasingly persuasive arguments about the benefits of that particular plan.
"Easy there," he murmured to himself as much as to her. "Let's figure out what she's awakened before we start planning the claiming ceremony."
Though from the way his wolf was already mentally measuring her for a permanent place in their lives, Cade suspected that particular conversation was going to be more negotiation than decision.
Behind them, the cracked rune stone pulsed once more with fading light, and somewhere deep beneath the foundation of the inn, something ancient stirred in its sleep.
3
LYRA
Cade's first mistake was thinking he could carry an unconscious chaos witch upstairs without consequences.
His second was underestimating how quickly she'd wake up.
Lyra's magic hummed against his skin like a living thing as he navigated the narrow cellar stairs, her weight surprisingly solid in his arms. She smelled like honey and copper pennies and something wild that made his wolf pace restlessly just beneath his skin. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to find somewhere safe and defensible, preferably with only one entrance he could guard.
The inn's kitchen seemed like neutral territory—close enough to the cellar if something went wrong, but far enough from the founder's rune that her magic might settle. Cade settled her onto one of the mismatched chairs around the old farmhouse table, noting the way her copper curls caught the afternoon light streaming through dust-moted windows.
She was beautiful in a way that hit him like a physical blow. Not the polished, careful beauty he was used to seeing atpack gatherings, but something wilder and more honest. Even unconscious, she radiated power that made his teeth ache.
His wolf was absolutely beside itself with smug satisfaction. Mate, it kept insisting. Finally. Claim her. Keep her.
