🩵 Chapter 7: Cottage & Packhouse
741 Words
Dani
The birds in Blue Moon territory didn’t wake you up—they announced your existence.
Sunlight poured in through the high windows of my new cottage, catching dust motes in the air like gold flecks. I blinked up at the ceiling fan and exhaled slowly.
Still here.
Still real.
Still smelling faintly of the cinnamon roll I’d eaten in bed last night.
I rolled to the edge of the mattress, stretching my limbs out like a starfish. The bed was way too comfortable. I could’ve sunk in and slept another eight hours, easy. But a faint knock on the door followed by Dylan’s singsong voice yanked me out of bliss.
“Get up, bear girl! We’re going to breakfast!”
I opened the door mid-yawn and squinted. “Is it mandatory?”
“Xander said ‘breakfast served daily, you’ll eat at the House.’ I’m taking that as law.”
“You just want free food.”
“I need free food. They had truffle omelets and pineapple mimosas yesterday.”
I arched a brow. “Mimosas? For breakfast?”
He grinned. “Alpha-owned land, remember? We’re technically not even in a state. Come on, brunch babe. Put on something cute.”
---
Ten minutes later, I was walking beside Dylan toward the Pack House.
It was massive—like an old-money mansion and a luxury lodge had a baby. Three stories of stone and warm wood with arched windows and a front door big enough to fit a truck through. Ivy curled along the front porch. The flag of Blue Moon flapped gently in the morning breeze.
Inside, it smelled like heaven.
Coffee. Toast. Smoked bacon. Cinnamon. Lavender.
And something else.
That scent I’d been catching for the last week—rich and wild and dark like cedar smoke and late-night sin—hit me the second we walked inside.
I paused.
Dylan slowed, eyeing me. “You okay?”
“I…” My nose flared. “Do you smell that?”
He blinked. “Define that.”
“Something musky. Deep. It’s like—”
Before I could finish, the scent disappeared.
Not faded. Vanished.
Like whoever it belonged to had just left.
My heart pounded.
“Okay,” Dylan said, nudging my arm. “Let’s get you a plate before I start gnawing on a chair.”
---
The dining room was more like a grand hall. Long polished tables. Big windows. Pack members of all ages and ranks eating, laughing, trading stories.
I spotted Taylor, Morgan, and Alia–the packs Luna–at a nearby table, already waving us over.
Taylor lit up when she saw me. “Dani! Dylan! You’re here!”
Morgan jumped up and pulled me into a hug. “Girl, I’ve been dying to see you. I heard about the fire. I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“Same,” Alia said, rising with grace. “We were so worried. Xander told us everything. You’re both welcome here as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” I said softly. “It means a lot.”
Alia smiled. “This Pack looks out for its own. You’ll see.”
---
Breakfast was surreal.
Dylan made fast friends with a group of young warriors at the next table. Taylor filled me in on how Matt had been extra clingy ever since the fire, “like I’m going to combust if he leaves me for ten minutes.”
Morgan joked about girl-time being long overdue. Alia suggested a spa day.
I laughed more in one hour than I had in weeks.
But beneath it all, that scent still lingered. Like a shadow beneath the perfume of fresh bread and wildflowers.
I caught it again halfway through a strawberry scone.
This time stronger.
Closer.
My skin prickled.
I turned toward the hallway.
Empty.
But something told me…
He had just been here.
Whoever he was.
---
After breakfast, I wandered through the Pack House. Just exploring, I told myself.
But really?
I was chasing that feeling.
The scent.
The pull.
It didn’t lead me anywhere specific—just fluttered like a trail of breadcrumbs at the edge of my senses.
Who was he?
Why did the very scent of him curl heat low in my belly and tighten something in my chest?
I didn’t have the answer.
But my bear… she was starting to stir.
And her instincts?
They whispered one thing.
Soon.
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