Page 7 of Furever Bound
The comment stung, but she caught something underneath the barb—not just academic snobbery, but genuineprotectiveness. He cared about these stories in ways that went beyond professional interest.
"Deal," she said, and found herself meaning it.
Whatever had just happened between them, whatever that electric shock meant, she was going to figure it out. Along with everything else about this mysterious town and its infuriatingly attractive historian.
6
MADDOX
The moment Sera Quinn's skin touched his, Maddox's wolf recognized something that his logical mind immediately rejected as impossible. The electric shock that passed between them sent awareness racing through his system like wildfire, something primal and essential that made his carefully controlled animal instincts sit up and howl with sudden, urgent recognition.
Mate.
The word echoed through his consciousness with the force of revelation, making his breath catch and his pulse hammer beneath his skin. His wolf had found what it had been unconsciously seeking for years, and the recognition was so powerful it threatened to shatter his carefully maintained human facade.
"Perhaps we should establish some ground rules," he managed, fighting to keep his voice level despite the way his entire worldview had just realigned itself around the strawberry blonde woman standing close enough to touch.
Ember squawked knowingly from her perch, her ancient wisdom immediately recognizing what his human mind was stillstruggling to process. Her telepathic commentary carried warm golden satisfaction mixed with barely contained amusement at how long it had taken him to understand what she'd known from the moment Sera had crossed their threshold.
Not helping,he projected toward his phoenix, who responded with images that roughly translated tothis is going to be fun to watchandabout time.
"Of course," Sera said, though her voice carried a breathless quality that suggested the contact had affected her as well. "I want to do this right."
Do what right?he wondered, watching the way she unconsciously touched the spot where their skin had met. The folklore research, or whatever was building between them?
As he explained his protocols for cultural preservation—no recording without permission, no photographs of sensitive texts, no sharing details without proper context—Maddox found himself studying every nuance of her reactions. The way she listened with genuine attention rather than merely waiting for her turn to speak. The respectful distance she maintained from his most precious manuscripts. The careful notes she took in actual handwriting rather than typing into her phone.
"What made you choose folklore?" he asked, settling into his reading chair and gesturing for her to take the seat across from him. "Specifically mountain traditions?"
"Honestly?" She perched on the edge of the chair like she expected to be dismissed at any moment. "I've been looking for stories that matter. Real stories, not just content that performs well."
"And you think mountain folklore will give you that."
"I think there's something special about places like Hollow Oak." Her hazel eyes brightened with enthusiasm that seemed completely genuine. "Communities that have preserved theircultural heritage despite modernization. Stories that still mean something to the people who tell them."
As she spoke, Maddox found himself studying the way expressions played across her face—the slight furrow between her brows when she concentrated, the way her hands moved to emphasize points, the flash of green in her eyes when passion crept into her voice. His wolf tracked every detail with the focused intensity of recognition, cataloguing information about their mate with possessive thoroughness.
"Cultural heritage isn't a commodity," he said, testing her response while trying to understand what had brought her to their sanctuary.
"No, it's not." Her answer came without hesitation. "But it's also not a museum piece. Stories need to be shared to stay alive, don't they? They need new voices, new listeners."
The comment caught him off guard. Most outsiders who approached his research wanted to collect folklore like souvenirs, interesting artifacts to display without understanding. But Sera seemed to grasp something fundamental about the nature of oral tradition that even some academics missed.
"Sharing and exploiting are different things," he said carefully, watching her reaction.
"I know." She leaned forward slightly, and he caught another hint of that vanilla scent mixed with something that made his wolf's interest sharpen. "That's why I'm here talking to you instead of just filming random locals and calling it authentic."
Ember carefully went to Sera's chair, fixing the woman with an evaluating stare. The phoenix's telepathic commentary carried notes of curiosity and what felt distinctly like matchmaking intentions, her ancient wisdom recognizing the potential for bonds that transcended normal human connection.
"She's gorgeous," Sera murmured, keeping perfectly still as Ember inspected her with regal authority.
"She has strong opinions about most people," he admitted, watching as Ember's inspection became increasingly approving.
"What's her opinion of me?"
Ember's telepathic response came as warm golden images: acceptance, potential, and underneath it all, a sense of rightness that made his wolf pace with renewed interest. His phoenix had not only approved of their unexpected visitor—she was actively encouraging whatever was developing between them.
"She likes you," he said honestly, because there was no point in lying when Ember's body language made her approval obvious. "That's... unusual."
