Page 8 of Furever Bound
"Maybe she recognizes a fellow outsider," Sera said with self-deprecating humor that unexpected protectiveness.
"You're not an outsider," he said, the words escaping before he could consider their implications. "Not here."
Her sharp intake of breath suggested the comment had hit deeper than he'd intended, revealing vulnerabilities she normally kept hidden behind polished confidence.
"How can you know that?" she asked quietly. "You barely know me."
Because my wolf recognizes you as mate,he thought but couldn't say.Because Ember has already accepted you as family. Because everything about your presence here feels like coming home.
"Because Hollow Oak has a way of calling to people who belong here," he said instead. "And you wouldn't have found us if you weren't meant to."
The conversation was veering into territory that felt both dangerous and inevitable, touching on supernatural concepts he wasn't ready to explain while acknowledging connections he couldn't deny. His academic training demanded caution andgradual revelation, but his wolf wanted to claim and protect before logic could interfere.
"So where should we start?" Sera asked, settling back in her chair with visible effort to return to safer topics. "What stories would be appropriate for someone at my level of understanding?"
The question was perfectly reasonable, professionally appropriate, exactly what he should have expected. But as Maddox looked at her, taking in the genuine curiosity in her expression and the way afternoon light caught the copper highlights in her hair—he found himself torn between competing impulses.
His scholarly instincts demanded he protect the stories that had been entrusted to his care, keeping them safe from commercialization and misrepresentation. But something deeper, something connected to the way his wolf had responded to her touch, urged him to share the knowledge that would help her understand why these legends mattered.
"We'll start with the basics," he said finally. "Local geography, settlement patterns, how the stories developed organically from the landscape itself."
"That sounds perfect."
As he rose to select appropriate texts, Maddox caught Ember's telepathic amusement rippling through their bond. His phoenix had recognized what his rational mind was still struggling to accept: that Sera Quinn hadn't arrived in Hollow Oak by accident, and that whatever supernatural forces had been building around their community, she was both catalyst and solution.
His wolf, unfortunately, was in complete agreement with Ember's assessment. The only question was whether he could guide Sera toward understanding their connection before thesupernatural world she'd stumbled into became too dangerous for an unprepared human to navigate.
Even one who was destined to be his mate.
7
SERA
Three days of intensive folklore sessions with Maddox had produced a strange kind of productive tension that left Sera feeling simultaneously intellectually stimulated and emotionally frustrated. Their working relationship had settled into a rhythm of passionate academic debates punctuated by moments of electric awareness that neither seemed ready to acknowledge directly.
"You're oversimplifying the cultural significance," Maddox said, adjusting his glasses as he pulled another ancient text from his meticulously organized shelves. She'd learned to anticipate when he was about to make a particularly academic point—his voice took on that professorial tone that made her want to both argue with him and step closer.
"I'm making it accessible," Sera shot back, her notebook balanced on her lap as she sat cross-legged in the leather chair that had somehow become "hers" during their sessions. "There's a difference between simplification and translation."
"Is there?" He settled into his chair with that controlled grace she'd grown to recognize, the way he moved that suggested leashed energy beneath the scholarly exterior. "Whenyou translate folklore into social media format, what essential elements get lost?"
"What essential elements get preserved when only academics can access them?" she countered, meeting his piercing blue gaze with the kind of direct challenge that had become their standard dynamic.
These arguments had become less about actual disagreement and more about the intellectual equivalent of verbal sparring, each testing the other's knowledge and convictions while dancing around the attraction that seemed to intensify with every interaction.
"Context," he said, opening the leather-bound volume with reverent care. "Nuance. The understanding that some stories carry power beyond entertainment value."
"And isolation," she replied, leaning forward slightly. "Elitism. The assumption that ordinary people can't handle complex cultural concepts."
His pause suggested she'd scored a point, and the way his eyes lingered on her face made her heartbeat pick up.
"Tell me about your audience," he said, changing tactics with the smooth precision of someone accustomed to intellectual maneuvering. "Who are these eight hundred and fifty thousand people who follow your content?"
The question caught her off guard with its directness. Most people assumed her follower count represented vanity metrics rather than genuine human connection.
"People looking for something real. Most of them are women between twenty-five and forty-five, college-educated, living in urban areas where they feel disconnected from cultural roots or natural beauty."
"So they consume your content as a substitute for authentic experience?"
