Chapter Six

The moment our feet touched earth, the forest changed.

No longer tame, no longer curious—this part of the woods watched. The air grew heavier, pulsing with that raw, territorial magic that lived in the marrow of every pack-bonded creature.

Before we even stepped past the stone markers, they arrived.

Three wolves materialized from the underbrush like they’d been waiting all morning. Enormous, fur bristling, they moved with slow, calculated menace. One—a sandy-furred brute with scars around his snout—let out a low warning growl that curled around my spine.

I raised my hands. “He’s invited. Don’t get bitey.”

Another wolf—a sleek, dark gray one with clouded eyes—stepped closer to Dylan, sniffing him from a polite distance that still screamed you don’t belong here.

I was about to speak again when a calm, unshakable voice cut through the forest like a blade through silk.

“Stand down.”

The wolves froze, instantly stepping back with heads lowered.

From between two massive pines stepped a man who moved like still water right before the storm. Alpha Dakota. Every inch the legend he was said to be. Tall, strong, and powerfully quiet, his dark blond hair was cropped short, his broad shoulders squared beneath a worn leather jacket, and his deep brown eyes took in everything like a ledger he was constantly balancing.

He gave me a nod. “Witch.”

“Alpha.” I offered a smirk. “Still dramatic.”

“You brought trouble, I see.”

“I invited trouble. Difference.”

His attention shifted to Dylan, and the playful tension vanished. The air between them grew sharp. Electric.

“Name.”

Dylan didn’t flinch. “Dylan. Bitten a month ago. No guidance. No idea what I was doing.” He paused. “Found her cottage. She didn’t kill me.” He said everything I had pre-instructed.

“Yet,” I muttered.

Dakota’s mouth twitched. “You’re brave.”

“I’ve had worse house guests,” I offered. “He’s not bad for a stray.” I never could shut my trap in tense situations.

Dakota stepped forward, stopping just in front of Dylan. The two stood eye to eye, still as statues. Dylan tilted his head slightly. Just enough.

“Are you here to learn our ways?” Dakota asked, voice low and measured.

Dylan took a breath, then shook his head.

“No. I’m here to stay with her. ”

The clearing stilled. My breathing paused. 

Even the wolves behind us went eerily quiet.

Dakota raised an eyebrow. “With her?”

“Yes,” Dylan said, unflinching. “I’ll learn what I have to. I’ll respect your laws. But I’m not here to be claimed or relocated like a lost pup. She’s the one who helped me. She gets my loyalty, and she wants me to do this. So here I am.”

He turned slightly toward me, eyes unwavering. “I’m staying with Thea. Whether or not that fits into your rules.”

A beat of silence. Wait a minute, did he just invite himself to permanent residence at MY cottage?

Then Dakota barked out a laugh—sharp and genuine, echoing through the trees like thunder breaking tension.

“Well,” he said, grinning now. “You’ve got balls.”

“I’d rather keep them,” Dylan replied coolly.

“You’ve got backbone. That matters more.” Dakota gave him a firm nod. “You can learn from us. Our ways, our law. But if you want the title of ‘pack,’ it’s not just mine to give.”

Dylan frowned. “What do you mean?”

Dakota turned, already walking deeper into the woods. “You’ve got to earn the pack’s trust. Their acceptance. Until then, you’re a guest. A student. Not one of us.”

Dylan nodded once. “Then I’ll earn it.”

“You better,” Dakota called over his shoulder. “They bite harder than I do. You can stay with the witch.”

Dylan and I shared a glance. His was steady. Mine... was a little more smug than it should’ve been.

As Dakota and the wolves faded into the trees, I lingered near the boundary stones, debating whether to teleport or walk home the scenic way.

But before I could decide, a gust of wind shifted behind us.

Another presence. Magic, unfamiliar. Not werewolf.

A new arrival.

I turned slowly—but Dylan was already stepping in front of me, body tense, stance wide. Protective. Instinctive.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Whoever—or whatever—was coming had just earned his full attention.

And by extension, mine.

I stepped up beside Dylan, lightly brushing his arm with the back of my hand.

“You can ease up,” I murmured. “If they meant harm, they’d already be ashes. Probably.”

He didn’t move, but I felt him shift his weight slightly—ready, but listening.

Out of the trees stepped two figures cloaked in dark navy. No visible weapons, but the air around them shimmered faintly with low-level enchantments. I knew the signs. Shield spells. Message wards. Minor illusion charms.

Messengers. Fancy ones.

One of them pulled back their hood—an older man with sharp eyes and sun-kissed skin. The other stayed silent and hooded, a note of intimidation by design.

“We’re here on behalf of the High Council of the Crescent Fold,” he said, voice smooth but distant. “To verify a rumor.”

“Which one?” I asked with a thin smile. “The one where I turned a werewolf into a frog or the one where I got stuck in a broom closet with a vampire lord and a stolen bottle of truth serum?”

Dylan jerked his head back to look at me. I ignored him.

The hooded one blinked. The speaker looked distinctly unamused.

“I meant the rumors about a rogue werewolf being harbored on sacred coven land.”

“Ah,” I said, dragging out the syllable. “That one’s mostly true. He wasn’t technically a rogue when I met him—more like a confused stray puppy. Hardly feral. And he’s not harbored. He’s a guest. A temporary one. Probably.”

Dylan gave me another sideways look. I ignored that one, too.

“I assume this is about the upcoming rituals?” I asked, folding my arms. “You could’ve sent a bird, you know. Or a politely worded dream.”

The speaker didn’t flinch. “The high council was concerned. The alliance is... delicate.”

“Yes, yes, we all know how one snarl from the wrong werewolf or an over-dramatic sigh from a vampire could shatter a century of barely-functioning politics,” I said. “But if you came for an invitation—”

I pulled a small parchment slip from the pocket of my cardigan and handed it to him with an exaggerated flourish. “Here. Formal invite. Stamped and everything.”

He looked it over, brow twitching. The magic seal at the bottom shimmered silver—clearly legitimate. My handiwork, of course. Darcy would’ve used dried beetroot wax and forgotten to charm it properly.

“If you want details,” I continued, “reach out to the coven leader, Darcy Thorn. She’s overseeing the logistics—catering, security, anti-theft wards, the whole nightmare. She’ll talk your ears off if you let her.”

“And you?” the speaker asked.

I tilted my head. “I’m the Peacemaker. Babysitter. Chaos deterrent. I’ll be everywhere and nowhere at once.”

“You say that like it’s something to be proud of.”

“It’s the only reason this whole ceremony won’t explode halfway through the opening speech.”

Beside me, Dylan hadn’t moved—still standing just in front of me, broad and quiet and ready to throw himself between me and two full-grown mages if necessary. It was downright adorable.

I reached out and gently nudged his elbow. “You can relax. We’re playing politics now.”

He gave the messengers a final, slow once-over before taking a small step back. Still near. Still ready. But no longer bristling.

The speaker tucked the invitation away. “We’ll be in touch. The high council will expect peace.”

“Then tell them to show up sober,” I said brightly.

He scowled.

They vanished in a shimmer of magic a heartbeat later.

As the breeze returned and the tension thinned, I sighed.”

Dylan glanced down at me. “That was you being diplomatic?”

“That was me being adorably restrained.”

He looked toward the trees where the messengers had stood. “So... what are these rituals like?”

I snorted. “Long. Boring. Full of passive-aggressive spellcasting, and probably a few vampires trying to flirt through veiled death threats. The works.”

“Sounds like hell.”

“Which is why you’ll love it.”

 ****************

I plopped down onto a nearby rock and crossed my legs at the ankle. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to start fires. Just delivering an invitation.”

He paused his sharpening but didn’t respond.

I pulled a folded piece of parchment from my pocket and held it between two fingers like it was a neutral offering. “Formal invitation to the upcoming ritual. The high ceremony is being opened to both the vampires and your pack. Symbolic unity, you know.”

Dakota glanced at it but didn’t reach for it. “You’re opening your sacred ritual to outsiders?”

“Not outsiders,” I said with a grimace. “Frenemies. And it wasn’t my idea. Coven council wants to parade around our ‘magical transparency.’” I made dramatic air quotes.

He finally took the parchment, scanned the seal. “Darcy Thorn still leading your council?”

“Unfortunately for all involved. Any questions, reach out to her directly. I suggest bringing a snack and emotional resilience.”

Dakota tucked the invitation into his coat and leaned back slightly, still watching me. “The timing’s... inconvenient.”

I raised a brow. “Oh?”

“One of the ritual ceremonies falls during our yearly mating moon,” he said simply.

My eyebrows inched up. “Ah.”

He nodded once. “This particular moon cycle sharpens instincts—territory, loyalty, attraction. It’s a sacred time for us. Formal pairings. Bonds. Tempers run higher. Discipline’s harder.”

“And you’re saying a bunch of emotionally charged witches, vampires, and horny werewolves might not mix well?” I said, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face.

Dakota didn’t smile, but his eyes twitched in amusement. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Well,” I sighed. “I suppose we’ll double the calming incense. Maybe put the vampires in a splash zone.”

He gave a short, dry laugh. “It’s not impossible. But you need to know it will affect my wolves. Even the younger ones. They’ll be... distracted.”

“Wouldn’t be a proper coven ritual without the risk of emotional combustion,” I muttered. “We’ll set up neutral zones. Circles that dampen instinctive surges. Potions on standby. I’ll make sure it’s safe. Or... safe-adjacent.”

He studied me a moment. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because if we don’t show some effort toward unity, the alliance falls apart. And then the vampires start declaring blood feuds, the wolves start claiming forest lines again, and my coven starts lighting things on fire on purpose.”

Dakota tilted his head. “And you’re involved this time?”

“Reluctantly,” I said, placing a hand over my heart. "I'm flattered I'm so well known."

He grunted and stood, towering over me as he adjusted the leather knife strap across his chest. “Fine. We’ll come. I’ll bring my pack. If things go sideways...”

“Blame Darcy. She signed the invite.”

“I’ll blame you,” he said, voice low but not unkind. “You’re the one who brought the rogue to my doorstep, and chaos follows you like a mother and her duckling.”

I stood too, brushing dust off my skirt. “Yeah, well. He’s turning out all right. Stares down at geese and stands between me and suspicious messengers.” 

“You trust him?” Dakota asked, gaze sharp now.

I shrugged. “He trusts me. Sometimes that’s enough.”

Dakota nodded. “I’ll send confirmation through our emissary tomorrow. You’ll get your wolves.”

I turned to go, but paused. “Oh, and Alpha?”

“Hm?”

“Try to keep them from scent-marking the sacred grove,” I said sweetly. “It’s bad for the mushrooms.”

He actually smiled. Just a little.