Page 6 of Furever Bound
The phoenix in question fixed Sera with another evaluating stare, those ancient amber eyes seeming to catalogue her worth. In her old life, being assessed by exotic pets would have meant photo opportunities and brand partnerships. Here, it felt like being judged by something far older and wiser than herself.
"I'm honored she's letting me stay," Sera said sincerely, and meant it.
"Don't take it personally. She's curious about why you're here." Maddox moved toward a section of shelves devoted entirely to what looked like folklore collections. "Now, what specifically are you hoping to learn about Hollow Oak's traditions?"
Sera followed him, trying not to gawk at the sheer volume of knowledge surrounding her. She'd graduated with a communications degree and built a successful career, but this level of scholarship made her feel like she was playing dress-up in the adult world.
"Miriam mentioned local legends, families with special gifts, that sort of thing." She kept her voice carefully professional, though her pulse quickened at being in his orbit. "I'm interested in how these stories shaped the community's identity."
"And you plan to share these stories with eight hundred and fifty thousand strangers." It wasn't a question, and his tone made it clear he was testing her motivations.
"I believe in the power of storytelling to connect people," she said, lifting her chin. "These traditions deserve to be preserved and shared, not locked away where only academics can access them."
"Preserved and shared are two very different things." He pulled a thick volume from the shelf, its leather binding worn smooth by countless hands. "Context matters. Understanding matters. Respect matters."
"I understand that," she said, frustration bleeding into her voice despite her best efforts to remain professional. "I'm not some vapid influencer looking to exploit your culture for likes."
Except part of her was exactly that, and they both seemed to know it. The partial lie sat uncomfortably on her tongue.
"Aren't you?" He turned to face her fully, and the quiet intensity in his gaze made her stomach flutter in ways that hadnothing to do with intimidation. "What's your background in folklore studies? Anthropology? Cultural preservation?"
"I have a communications degree," she admitted, hating how inadequate it sounded in this temple of serious scholarship. "But I've built a career on understanding what connects with people, on finding the human stories that matter."
"Communications." He repeated the word like he was tasting it. "Social media marketing, I assume."
"Among other things." Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and growing irritation. "But I'm here to learn, not just to take. I want to understand these stories properly."
"Do you." Again, not a question.
"Yes, I do." She stepped closer, drawn by some combination of anger and attraction that made no logical sense. "I know you've already decided I'm some shallow social media butterfly, but maybe you could give me the benefit of the doubt for five minutes."
"I haven't decided anything," he said, but his tone suggested he was reassessing her in real time.
They were standing closer now, close enough that she could catch the scent of cedar and old books that seemed to cling to him. Close enough to notice the way his jaw tightened when he was thinking, and the silver threading through his dark hair that caught the afternoon light.
He reached for another book from a higher shelf, the same volume she'd been stretching toward. Their hands collided in the narrow space, skin brushing skin, and an electric shock passed between them that left her breathless and aching.
The sensation was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Recognition, maybe, or rightness. Like her body had been waiting her entire life for exactly this touch, this moment, this impossibly frustrating man who looked at her like she was a puzzle he wanted to solve.
She jerked her hand back, heart hammering against her ribs. "Sorry, I didn't see you reaching?—"
But when she looked at his face, he appeared equally stunned. Those piercing blue eyes had gone wide behind his glasses, and his carefully controlled expression had cracked to reveal something raw and vulnerable.
Then he blinked, and the walls came back up. But not completely—she could still see the awareness simmering underneath his professional demeanor.
"Perhaps we should establish some ground rules," he said, his voice rougher than before. "If you're serious about learning rather than simply collecting content."
"Of course." She managed to keep her own voice steady, though her hand still tingled where they'd touched. "Whatever you think is appropriate."
But even as she spoke, her mind raced with questions.
What was a man with a phoenix doing in a small mountain town? How many other impossible things existed in Hollow Oak that she'd dismissed as quaint local character? And why did touching him feel like being struck by lightning in the best possible way?
"We'll start with basic respect for the material," he continued, pulling the book down with careful precision. "No recording without permission. No photographs of texts. No sharing of specific details without context."
"Understood." She nodded, though part of her attention remained fixed on his hands as he handled the ancient volume. Strong hands, with long fingers and calluses that suggested he did more than just turn pages.
"And if you're going to mispronounce terminology, do it quietly."
