Chapter 12

Sera eased herself onto the couch, wincing as the movement jostled her still-tender ribs. She'd only been home from the hospital for a day, but already the enforced inactivity was driving her stir-crazy.

Ferro slept on the cushion at her feet. He'd come home, making her spirit soar despite the pain she was in.

Her mind kept drifting to the festival, to the endless list of tasks that needed to be completed.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. Sera frowned, reaching for the device. Her frown deepened when she saw the caller ID: Mayor Cedric Fernwood.

"Hello?" she answered, trying to keep the trepidation from her voice.

"Sera, my dear," the mayor's voice boomed through the phone, far too cheerful for Sera's current mood, "how are you feeling?"

Sera shifted, biting back a groan. "I've been better, Mayor Fernwood. But I'm on the mend."

"Excellent, excellent," the mayor said, his tone softening. "I wanted to touch base about the festival. I heard about your accident, and I want you to know there's no rush. You take all the time you need to heal."

Sera blinked, surprise momentarily overriding her discomfort. "But the festival... there's still so much to do."

The mayor chuckled. "Nonsense. You and Lark have done a fantastic job. We're well ahead of schedule. The festival can survive a few days without your guiding hand."

Relief warred with anxiety in Sera's chest. The idea of letting go, even for a moment, felt foreign, wrong.

As if sensing her hesitation, the mayor continued. "In fact, I was thinking... perhaps Eleanor could step in, help lighten the load."

Sera stiffened, her grip tightening on the phone. "That won't be necessary," she said, her tone sharper than she intended. She took a breath, forcing herself to relax. "Lark and I have everything under control. We'll manage."

There was a pause, and for a moment, Sera thought the mayor would push the issue. But then he sighed, a note of understanding in his voice.

"Of course. I should have known better than to suggest anyone could fill your shoes." He chuckled again, the sound warm and paternal. "You rest up. The festival will be waiting for you when you're ready."

Sera murmured her thanks and ended the call, letting the phone drop onto the couch beside her. She leaned back, closing her eyes, trying to let the mayor's words sink in. Rest. Heal. Let go.

A soft knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Lark poking his head into the room, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said, stepping fully into the room. "But I come bearing gifts."

Sera's eyebrows shot up as she took in the sight of him, arms laden with blankets, pillows, and a picnic basket. "What's all this?"

Lark grinned, the expression lighting up his handsome face. "This, my dear, is Operation: Rest and Relaxation. Doctor's orders."

Sera couldn't help but laugh, the sound bursting from her lips before she could stop it. "Doctor's orders? Since when have you become a medical professional?"

Lark winked, setting his burden on the coffee table. "Since I appointed myself your personal physician. Now, let's get you comfortable."

Before Sera could protest, Lark had shooed away Ferro and was arranging the pillows and blankets around her, creating a cozy nest on the couch. He stepped back, admiring his handiwork with a satisfied nod.

"There. Now, for phase two."

He reached for the picnic basket, pulling out an array of delectable snacks. Sera's mouth watered as the scent of fresh bread and ripe cheese filled the room.

"A picnic?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "In my living room?"

Lark shrugged, that boyish grin still firmly in place. "Why not? You're not up for a hike in the woods, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy a little indoor adventure."

He settled himself on the floor beside the couch, spreading out the feast before them.

As they ate, the conversation flowed easily, drifting from topic to topic with the ease of old friends. Sera found herself sharing bits and pieces of herself she usually kept guarded.

"Favorite author?" Lark asked, popping a grape into his mouth.

Sera thought for a moment. "Jane Austen," she admitted. "I know it's cliché, but there's something about her wit and insight into human nature..."

Lark chuckled, shaking his head. "I never would have guessed. I had you pegged as more of a Tolkien fan."

Sera's eyes widened. "Tolkien? Really?"

Lark shrugged, his grin turning sheepish. "I figured with your love of order and structure... Tolkien's world-building is nothing if not meticulous."

Sera laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Fair enough. But let me guess... you're more of a Hemingway man?"

Lark clutched his chest, feigning offense. "Hemingway? Please. I'm a Vonnegut kind of guy."

Sera nearly choked on her bread. "Vonnegut? The king of satirical science fiction?"

Lark winked. "What can I say? I like my literature with a side of absurdity."

They continued like that, trading favorites, each revelation a surprise and a delight. Music (Sera loved classical, Lark was a die-hard rock fan), movies (Sera preferred period dramas, Lark had a weakness for cheesy ‘80s action flicks), hobbies (Sera enjoyed gardening, Lark was a closet knitter).

But when it came to ice cream, they found common ground.

"Rocky road," they said in unison, then burst out laughing.

"Finally, something we agree on," Lark teased, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Sera felt a flutter in her stomach. This was new territory, this playful banter, this easy intimacy. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

As the picnic wound down, Lark began to pack up, his movements efficient but unhurried. Sera watched him, a strange mix of disappointment and anticipation swirling in her gut.

"Lark," she said softly, catching his hand as he reached for the last of the dishes. He stilled, his eyes meeting hers, a question in their amber depths. "Thank you. For this. For... everything."

Lark smiled, his fingers twining with hers, a gentle pressure that sent sparks racing up her arm. "Anytime, Sera. I'm here for you. Always."

He held her gaze a moment longer, something unspoken passing between them. Then, with a final squeeze of her hand, he stood, gathering up the remnants of their impromptu feast.

"Get some rest," he said, his voice soft but stern. "I'll check in on you tomorrow."

Sera nodded, a yawn already tugging at her lips. As Lark slipped out of the room, she nestled deeper into the blankets, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

The next fewdays passed in a haze of recovery with Lark a constant, gentle presence. He cooked for her, bringing her meals in bed, and insisted she rest, promising the festival planning could wait.

But it was what he did for her garden that truly touched Sera's heart. From her bedroom window, she watched as he tended to her plants, speaking to them softly as he watered and pruned. It was a side of him she'd never seen, a tenderness that made her heart flutter.

One afternoon, as she slowly made her way to the garden, Sera found Lark kneeling beside her rosebushes, his hands caked with dirt.

"They're looking healthier already," he said, smiling up at her. "A little love goes a long way."

Sera swallowed hard, the double meaning of his words hanging in the air. "Thank you. For everything."

He stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. "No need for thanks, beautiful."

When he came to her side, she tugged on his T-shirt and leaned into his arms. "I want to thank you, though."

"Sera, I'm all dirty." He tried to lift his hands so he wouldn't get dirt on her.

Sera curled her arms around his neck and pulled his head down. "I don't care. You deserve a proper thank you."

His response was instant. He brought his head down and she brushed her lips over his. The move was slow and tentative at first, but then she felt emboldened when he groaned and held her tight. She dipped her tongue into his mouth and desire blossomed in her chest. Her heart flipped with each dance of their tongues. She didn't just want to thank him, she wanted to kiss him. Keeping her hands to herself had been a job in itself. Passion-drunk and ready for whatever he wanted, she pulled back from the kiss.

He continued to rain kisses over her face and mouth. Something far deeper than lust made its home in her heart. "You're the most amazing woman."

She grinned and met his gaze. "I am?"

"With thank-yous like that, I'll have to find more things to do for you."

She shook her head and laughed. "You're a bad, bad dragon."

"Yeah, I am." He licked his lips and sighed. "I need to remind myself you're not well, witch. So instead, I'll focus on something else. I've been thinking about the festival layout. I have some new ideas that I think blend our styles really well. Want to take a look?"

Sera nodded, touched by his effort. As they looked over his sketches, she realized their partnership, once so contentious, had blossomed into something beautiful.

Encouraged by their progress, Sera decided to teach Lark a more complex shielding spell, one that would help safeguard the festival. As she guided his hands, their magic intertwining, she felt a deep sense of trust and connection.

But the tranquility was short-lived. Two days later, over lunch with Eleanor Vance, Sera found herself on edge. The older woman probed into her past and her intentions in Whispering Pines. Eleanor's suggestions for the festival felt off, and Sera politely declined, preferring to handle things with Lark.

Her unease only grew when, post-lunch, she discovered some of the festival's magical supplies had been tampered with. Using her order magic, she restored them, but the incident left her shaken.

Seeking answers, Sera visited Jasper Moon at the library, hoping to uncover more about the mysterious symbol. Jasper's ghostly form flickered as he recounted tales of ancient magical conflicts, the symbol a dark thread woven throughout.

As the sun began to set, Sera's phone buzzed with a message from Lark, inviting her to dinner at his place. Despite the day's stresses, she found herself smiling, excited by the prospect of spending more time with him.

She chose her outfit carefully - a sundress in soft blues that felt a bit more flirtatious than her usual attire. As she applied a touch of makeup, she realized she was opening herself up, not just to Lark, but to the possibilities of what they could be together. To romance in general. To love. She'd never allowed herself to trust anyone that much.

Dinner was a revelation. Over steaming plates of pasta, they shared stories. Lark revealed his journey - the pressure of his successful business, the emptiness he'd felt despite his wealth, and his decision to return to Whispering Pines in search of purpose.

As the evening wound down, Lark suggested a walk. The night air was sweet with the scent of blooming jasmine, the stars a glittering canopy above them. They walked in comfortable silence, their hands brushing occasionally, sending sparks up Sera's arm.

"You, know," Lark murmured, "we really do make a good team." His arm settled around her waist when they returned to her house.

Sera looked up at him, seeing the promise of something more in his eyes. "Yes," she agreed softly. "We do. You want to come in?"

She knew what she was asking, but wasn't sure he'd agree to it. He stared at her for a moment. "I do."

They walked inside in silence. He locked the door behind him and closed the distance between them.

She found herself reeled in by his gaze. Her heart thudded hard in her chest. Then his lips came down to brush over hers. A sigh escaped her. The feel of his lips was heaven. Every single time. Each kiss was better than the last. She gave a whispery moan and he groaned. The innocent kiss turned hot, dark, and dangerous.

He grabbed her waist and pressed her against his hard body. Her fingers gripped the T-shirt, bringing him even closer. Their lips stayed locked, his tongue thrusting in and out of her mouth, rubbing over hers and driving her slowly insane.

She pulled back from the kiss, brushed her lips over his growing beard and licked circles over the thudding heartbeat in his throat.

"Ah, Sera," he groaned, his voice so rough, it was hard to understand him. "Beautiful, Sera. You're making me crazy, witch."

She glanced into those sexy eyes that kept her mesmerized. "I am?" She licked her bottom lip.

"You are, witch. I want you."

She wanted him too. "Why? I'm boring. I'm not sure I'm the right person you should be in a romantic relationship with."

He lowered his face to hers, taking her lips in another scorching kiss. "I don't care. I want you, Sera. Only you."