Page 5 of Furever Bound
"The stories that matter aren't entertainment," he said, his voice carrying the kind of quiet authority that made students sit straighter in virtual classrooms. "They're living culture. Theyhave power precisely because they've been preserved carefully, shared only with those who understand their significance."
"I understand that," she said, and there was something in her voice that made him look at her more carefully. Beneath the practiced cheerfulness, he caught a glimpse of genuine passion. "I'm not here to exploit anything. I want to learn. I want to understand why these stories matter."
Ember approached the door, studying their visitor with ancient amber eyes. Her telepathic commentary shifted from irritation to fascination, and Maddox felt his own assessment changing.
"You have a phoenix," Sera breathed, her voice losing its practiced polish and becoming something softer, more genuine. "She's absolutely magnificent."
"Ember doesn't usually like strangers," Maddox said, watching as his normally antisocial phoenix tilted her head with what looked suspiciously like approval.
"She's beautiful." Sera's hand moved as if to reach toward the bird, then stopped. "May I?"
The fact that she asked permission rather than simply assuming access caught his attention. His wolf's territorial pacing slowed as he recognized basic respect for boundaries.
"She'll let you know if she approves," he said.
Ember approached the threshold, fixing Sera with an evaluating stare that seemed to weigh possibilities invisible to human perception. After a long moment, the phoenix extended her neck slightly—not quite friendly, but definitely interested.
"Hello, gorgeous," Sera murmured, keeping her hands carefully still. "Aren't you just perfect?"
The genuine wonder in her voice when she looked at Ember suggested depths beneath the polished surface, possibilities his wolf found increasingly compelling. More importantly, Ember'sresponse carried warm approval mixed with something that felt like recognition.
"Ms. Quinn," he said finally, "if you're serious about understanding folklore rather than simply documenting it, there are protocols to follow. Standards of respect that are non-negotiable."
"Absolutely," she said quickly. "Whatever you think is appropriate. I want to do this right."
Ember's telepathic response carried warm amusement mixed with satisfaction. His phoenix, it seemed, had already reached conclusions about their unexpected visitor.
"We'll start with proper pronunciation," Maddox said, stepping back from the doorway. "Folklore. Not folk-lore."
"Folklore," Sera repeated carefully, and her smile when he nodded was the first genuinely unstudied expression he'd seen from her.
As she crossed his threshold, Maddox felt something fundamental shift in the supernatural energy surrounding Hollow Oak. Not crisis or manifestation, but potential crystallizing into purpose. Whatever had been building over the past few days, whatever forces had been preparing the town for supernatural awakening, Sera Quinn wasn't just the catalyst.
She was the answer.
5
SERA
Sera's carefully planned approach to charming the local historian crashed and burned spectacularly the moment she stepped inside Dr. Maddox Thorn's home. The "lovely, scholarly hermit" Miriam had described turned out to be a devastatingly attractive man who couldn't be much older than thirty-five, with dark hair that looked like he ran his fingers through it when thinking and piercing blue eyes that currently regarded her with fascinating intensity.
"Folklore," she repeated carefully, trying to ignore the way her hand still tingled from where they'd touched. "Not folk-lore."
"Better." His tone suggested she'd passed the first test in a series she hadn't known she was taking.
Dr. Maddox Thorn radiated the kind of quiet intellectual authority that made her want to simultaneously prove herself and step closer to that carefully controlled energy. Everything about him screamed academic sophistication, from his wire-rimmed glasses to the way he moved through his space with confident precision.
"Your home is incredible," she said, following him into what could only be described as a scholar's paradise. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined every wall, organized with the kind of meticulous precision that made her slightly chaotic apartment back in Nashville look like a hurricane had hit it. Filing cabinets bore labels written in actual calligraphy, and reading nooks were placed to catch all the natural light streaming through diamond-paned windows.
The atmosphere whispered of serious scholarship and deep knowledge, the kind of intellectual sanctuary she'd never had reason to enter before.
"It serves its purpose," he said dismissively, though she caught a note of pride underneath the modesty.
But what really stole her breath was the phoenix. She'd heard about them in passing—rare supernatural creatures that occasionally appeared in documentaries about magical wildlife. But seeing one in person, perched casually on a custom stand like the world's most exotic pet, drove home just how little she understood about the world she'd stumbled into.
"She really is magnificent," Sera said, watching Ember preen copper feathers that seemed to catch light in impossible ways. "I've never seen a phoenix in person before. They're incredibly rare, aren't they?"
"Ember's been with me for seven years." His tone suggested this was perfectly normal, like having a mythical bird as a companion was just another Tuesday. "She has particular opinions about visitors."
