Moonbound Mates

Chapter Twenty-Five

The bakery was only a few streets from the center of town.

By the time they stepped back outside, Rowan was carrying a small box of pastries Mae had insisted they take.

Apparently refusing had not been an option.

"She always does that?" Rowan asked.

"Every time."

"And you've never managed to stop her?"

Kael looked genuinely offended.

"Why would I want to?"

Rowan huffed a laugh.

For a while, they simply walked.

The streets of Fernhaven wound gently around them.

Flower boxes.

Open shop doors.

The scent of coffee drifting through the air.

Eventually, Kael pointed toward a building near the end of the street.

"We're staying there."

Rowan followed his gaze.

A cozy little coffee shop sat nestled between two neighboring stores.

Large windows lined the front.

Potted plants crowded the entrance.

A weathered wooden sign swung gently overhead.

The Homelike Inn.

Rowan smiled immediately.

"It looks nice."

Kael's expression softened.

"It is."

Together, they crossed the street.

The bell above the door chimed softly as they stepped inside.

The scent of coffee greeted them instantly.

Warm.

Rich.

Comforting.

A handful of customers occupied tables near the windows.

Behind the counter stood a young woman arranging cups.

She looked up.

And immediately froze.

Her eyes landed on Kael.

Then stayed there.

"Oh."

The word escaped before she could stop it.

Rowan blinked.

The woman recovered quickly.

Far more quickly than Rowan would have.

"Welcome back."

A bright smile appeared.

One aimed entirely at Kael.

"It's been a while."

"It has."

The smile widened.

"Longer than usual."

Rowan watched the exchange.

For some reason, she didn't particularly enjoy it.

Interesting.

The realization caught her off guard.

The woman leaned against the counter slightly.

"You should visit more often."

Kael smiled politely.

"I've been busy."

"I'm sure."

The answer came with just enough flirtation to be noticeable.

Not inappropriate.

Not obvious.

Just enough.

Something unpleasant flickered in Rowan's chest.

Tiny.

Brief.

But there.

Nyra noticed immediately.

"Oh."

"Be quiet."

The wolf sounded delighted.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"Yes."

Traitor.

A few moments later, the woman handed Kael a key.

Her smile lingered a second too long.

"Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you."

The moment they stepped away from the counter, Rowan felt ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

The woman had done nothing wrong.

Kael had done nothing wrong.

And yet.

She still didn't like it.

Very strange.

The stairs creaked beneath their feet as they climbed to the second floor.

At the end of the hallway, Kael unlocked a door.

Then stepped aside.

Rowan entered first.

And immediately stopped.

Gods.

The room was beautiful.

Warm sunlight poured through large windows.

Plants filled nearly every available surface.

Sun catchers hung from the glass, scattering tiny rainbows across the walls.

Soft blankets draped over furniture.

Books rested on shelves.

The entire suite felt warm.

Lived in.

Comfortable.

Like somewhere meant to be enjoyed.

Rowan slowly turned in a circle.

"I love it."

The words escaped before she could stop them.

A faint smile appeared on Kael's face.

"I thought you might."

Rowan wandered farther inside.

Past the sitting area.

Past the small kitchenette.

Then into the bedroom.

And froze.

One bed.

Her entire body went still.

Nyra immediately lost her mind.

"Oh this is excellent."

"No."

"One bed."

"No."

"One bed."

Rowan considered murdering her wolf.

Behind her, Kael sighed.

The sound carried an impressive amount of resignation.

Slowly, Rowan turned around.

Kael was leaning against the doorway.

Looking entirely unsurprised.

Then he pointed.

Toward the living room.

Rowan followed his gaze.

A large green couch sat against the wall.

Wide enough for a full-grown wolf.

Or an Alpha.

"There weren't any rooms with two beds available."

Rowan blinked.

"Oh."

"This was the only suite with a separate living area."

His expression remained perfectly calm.

"I'll take the couch."

The tension immediately eased from her shoulders.

Nyra groaned.

Coward.

Rowan ignored her.

"Thank you."

Kael nodded once.

As though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Because to him, it probably was.

For a few moments, Rowan continued looking around the room.

Still admiring the plants.

The sunlight.

The warmth.

Eventually she glanced back toward him.

"So what's the plan for the rest of the evening?"

Kael looked thoughtful.

Then—

"I'm going to cook for you."

Rowan stared.

"What?"

A faint smile appeared.

Small.

Almost amused.

"Dinner."

Her stomach performed an alarming little flip.

"Oh."

The smile grew slightly.

"Dinner."

For some reason, that felt significantly more dangerous than it should have.

The small kitchenette was not large enough for two people.

Rowan discovered this approximately thirty seconds after Kael started cooking.

Not because she was helping.

Because she was standing there.

Watching.

"You're hovering."

"I am not."

Kael glanced over his shoulder.

Rowan was leaning against the counter less than three feet away.

"You absolutely are."

She considered arguing.

Then decided he had a point.

"Fine."

Kael returned his attention to the potatoes.

"Thank you."

Rowan narrowed her eyes.

"You sound pleased."

"I am."

The answer came far too quickly.

Rowan considered throwing a carrot at him.

Instead, she grabbed one and took a bite.

Kael looked horrified.

"Those aren't washed yet."

Rowan slowly lowered the carrot.

"Oh."

Kael sighed.

The sound reminded her suspiciously of dealing with Lyra.

"I'm beginning to understand why your father worries."

"My father does not worry."

"He absolutely worries."

Rowan opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Then frowned.

"Fine."

Kael looked entirely too satisfied with that victory.

For several moments, only the sounds of cooking filled the room.

The sizzle of butter.

The chopping of vegetables.

The quiet hum of conversation drifting up from the coffee shop below.

It was...

Nice.

Comfortable.

Strange.

Rowan found herself watching Kael work.

He moved with confidence.

Not rushed.

Not uncertain.

Like he'd done this hundreds of times before.

Eventually, curiosity won.

"Where did you learn to cook?"

Kael didn't look up from the pan.

"My father."

The answer surprised her.

Something about that must have shown on her face because he smiled slightly.

"My mother could cook."

A pause.

"My father could burn water."

Rowan laughed.

"That's impressive."

"It really was."

The smile lingered.

"After she died, he decided that relying on the kitchen staff for every meal wasn't practical."

Kael turned the potatoes.

"He wasn't very good at it."

"I gathered that."

A faint huff of laughter escaped him.

"The first soup he made was so bad Lyra cried."

Rowan stared.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

Kael nodded.

"Actual tears."

The image immediately entered Rowan's mind.

A tiny Lyra sitting at a table.

Crying over soup.

She laughed so hard she nearly dropped the carrot.

Kael was smiling now too.

"He got better."

The words were simple.

But Rowan heard the meaning underneath them.

He got better.

Because he had two children who needed him.

Because life kept moving.

Because sometimes people did the best they could.

The realization made her chest ache unexpectedly.

"He sounds like he was a good man."

Kael's expression softened.

"He was."

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Kael pointed at the sink.

"Wash the carrot."

Rowan sighed dramatically.

"Yes, Alpha."

His eyes narrowed immediately.

"You are impossible."

"That's not what my father says."

"What does your father say?"

Rowan grinned.

"Usually it's, 'Rowan, stop climbing things.'"

Kael looked alarmed.

"Why are you climbing things?"

"Because they're there."

The answer came automatically.

Kael stared at her.

"That's not reassuring."

Rowan laughed.

A little while later, dinner was finally ready.

They carried their plates to the small table near the window.

The room glowed golden beneath the fading sunlight.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Rowan cut into the steak.

Took a bite.

And immediately stopped.

Kael looked up.

"What?"

Rowan stared at him.

"This is ridiculous."

His brow furrowed.

"What is?"

"The steak."

A pause.

"I've never had steak taste this good."

Kael blinked.

Once.

"Really?"

"Really."

She took another bite.

Then another.

Gods.

It practically melted.

Rowan pointed her fork at him.

"I'm actually offended."

"Why?"

"Because now every steak I eat for the rest of my life is going to disappoint me."

To her surprise, Kael laughed.

A real laugh.

Warm.

Genuine.

The sound made something strange flutter in her chest.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

For several moments they simply ate.

Comfortable.

Easy.

Then Kael set down his fork.

"How old were you when you became head warrior?"

Rowan groaned immediately.

"There it is."

A faint smile appeared.

"There what is?"

"The question."

Kael looked entirely unapologetic.

"You knew it was coming?"

"Everyone asks eventually."

She leaned back in her chair.

"I was twenty-two."

One eyebrow rose.

"That's young."

"It was."

Rowan shrugged.

"The previous head warrior retired unexpectedly."

She took another bite.

"A few people thought they should just appoint someone older."

Kael looked unsurprised.

"And?"

"And I disagreed."

The answer came immediately.

His smile widened.

"Of course you did."

Rowan pointed her fork at him.

"Don't start."

"I'm not starting anything."

"You absolutely are."

The amusement in his eyes only deepened.

Traitor.

"I challenged the warrior who was expected to get the position."

Kael nodded.

"And won."

It wasn't a question.

Rowan sighed.

"Yes."

The smile on his face became impossible to ignore.

"Of course you did."

"There it is again."

"What?"

"That."

Kael looked entirely innocent.

Rowan didn't believe him for a second.

For several moments, they continued eating.

The conversation flowed easily now.

Without effort.

Without awkward pauses.

Without either of them thinking too hard about it.

The sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon.

The golden light faded.

The room grew darker.

Still neither moved.

Their empty plates sat forgotten.

The dishes remained untouched.

The conversation simply continued.

One story becoming another.

Then another.

And for the first time in a very long time, neither of them seemed particularly eager for the day to end.

By the time dinner ended, the room had grown dark.

Only a few streaks of fading orange remained beyond the windows.

The town below had quieted considerably.

The distant hum of conversation from the coffee shop had disappeared.

Lanterns glowed softly along the street outside.

Fernhaven seemed to settle for the night.

Neither Rowan nor Kael seemed particularly eager to acknowledge it.

The conversation had slowed naturally.

Neither awkward.

Nor forced.

Simply comfortable.

The sort of silence that didn't need filling.

Eventually, Rowan gathered the empty plates.

Kael reached for them first.

"I can wash those."

"You cooked."

"And?"

"And you made dinner."

"I don't mind."

Rowan narrowed her eyes.

"You're stealing my opportunity to be helpful."

A faint smile appeared.

"You'll survive."

"Debatable."

"You'll survive."

The warmth in her chest deepened.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

A short while later, the kitchen was clean.

The leftovers were put away.

The dishes were drying.

And suddenly there was nothing left to do.

The realization settled quietly between them.

Night had arrived.

Kael glanced toward the bedroom.

Then toward the couch.

And without a word, crossed the room.

Rowan watched as he picked up one of the folded blankets resting on a nearby chair.

Then another.

He shook them out.

Arranged them neatly across the green couch.

No hesitation.

No discussion.

As though the decision had already been made.

As though it had never been a question.

Something unexpectedly warm settled in Rowan's chest.

"You know," she said, "most people would at least pretend to argue about who gets the bed."

Kael glanced up.

"Why?"

The answer caught her off guard.

"Because..."

She paused.

"People do that."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You found the room first."

Rowan blinked.

"What?"

"You walked into the bedroom before I did."

His attention returned to arranging the blanket.

"So it's yours."

The logic was ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

And yet.

For some reason, it made her smile.

Nyra made a suspiciously pleased sound.

Rowan ignored her.

Mostly.

When the couch was finished, Kael stepped back to inspect it.

Then nodded once.

Apparently satisfied.

"It's not terrible."

Rowan laughed.

"That's a glowing review."

"I try."

Eventually, there were no more excuses.

No more conversations waiting to happen.

Just the quiet room.

The dark windows.

And bedtime.

Rowan stood.

"So."

"So."

Neither moved.

Then Kael shook his head slightly.

Amused.

"Goodnight, Rowan."

Her stomach did something deeply unhelpful.

"Goodnight, Kael."

For a moment, neither looked away.

Then Rowan turned and headed toward the bedroom.

She closed the door behind her.

The room was quiet.

Comfortable.

Moonlight spilled through the windows.

The sun catchers that had scattered rainbows across the walls earlier now reflected silver instead.

Rowan changed into sleep clothes.

Climbed into bed.

And immediately discovered a problem.

Kael was right there.

Not in the room.

But close enough.

Close enough that she could hear the faint creak of the couch.

The rustle of blankets.

The quiet sounds of someone settling in for the night.

Rowan stared at the ceiling.

Nyra was silent for approximately three seconds.

Then—

"He's right there."

"No."

"He is."

"I am aware."

The wolf sounded delighted.

"We like him."

Rowan pulled the blanket higher.

"No, we don't."

Nyra snorted.

"We do."

"Go away."

"You smiled at him."

"Go away."

"Twice."

The traitor.

For a while, silence settled.

Soft.

Comfortable.

The kind of silence that only existed when nothing was wrong.

No Council.

No reports.

No arguments.

No expectations.

Just a warm bed.

A quiet town.

And the steady reassurance of knowing someone she trusted was only a few feet away.

The realization hit unexpectedly.

Trust.

Somewhere along the way, she'd started trusting him.

Not because the Moon Goddess said she should.

Not because of the bond.

Because he had earned it.

One conversation.

One choice.

One day at a time.

The thought lingered.

Warm.

Gentle.

And before Rowan could decide what to do with it, sleep finally claimed her.

The last thing she remembered was the faint creak of the couch in the next room.