Mikar wasn’t the kind of man who chased women who weren’t sure about him. Oh, he could see she was tempted. Every time she looked at him, she seemed to wrestle with herself, trying to convince herself to stay away.

Still, attraction wasn’t consent. He needed that. Needed her to want him like he wanted her. And if she didn’t, well…

Well, what?

He realized there was a chance she wouldn’t act on their attraction, but part of him refused to acknowledge it. He liked to think of his getting a chance to touch her again as a when, not an if.

She dragged another trunk past him, shooting him a glare. "Are you going to just stand there, or will you help out?"

He liked when she spoke to him, although it tended to be colored with wrath. “I don’t know. The view's delightful from here." He pressed his lips together, but he could feel a grin forming despite himself.

It was. She was wearing tight, dark red-brown pants with one of her crazy pairs of patchwork boots. How many had she brought with her? He would have sworn she had more boots than t-shirts.

Being behind her offered a delightful vantage point. Diana was short, but her figure was light and lithe, except for a generous, somewhat out of proportion ass he would love to bite. Her upper body was more athletic than feminine, although her breasts looked like they could be a nice handful, too.

He held her stare as she glared. Before she could spew whatever insults she had in mind, he held his hands up. "All right. What do you need?"

"More trunks. Big ones. Go. Fetch."

Mikar grinned, glad to have made her speak to him. She was trying her very best to annoy him, not knowing that the only thing he disliked was her silence. Insults and teasing he could take. "Will you stroke me when I bring back your stick?"

She practically growled, and he laughed, heading further into the woods. Before she was too far, humor left him. He glanced back over his shoulder. "Look after Chloe."

That was a demand, not a question.

Diana rolled her eyes. "She'll be just fine for two minutes."

Yes, she would, because Diana would protect her if a danger arose. Mikar didn't doubt it. That was the only reason he left them.

Diana built benches out of the trunks, and asked him for more wood each time he brought one. He had to wonder if she was just trying to get him away from her.

Mikar knew the northern flank of Night Hill better than most. The seven houses of the royal families had been built along the lone road leading up to Skyhall, on the opposite side. This side remained half wild. There was hardly ever any maintenance, and Mikar liked it this way.

There was only one house on this side of the hill. His. It wasn't a grand manor meant for fancy gatherings. His gray stone and log cabin, overlooking the lake, had been built, destroyed, and renovated too many times to count. A modern, comfortable haven with a priceless view, it suited him to a T.

He ventured closed to his home to get her a tree he'd meant to cut up a while ago; it had been dead for months, and threatened to fall on his roof. Mikar had only delayed the inevitable out of nostalgia: he'd planted this tree. He hadn't wanted to say goodbye quite yet. But perhaps recycling it into a bench, rather than firewood, would be like giving it a second life.

By the time he came back, Diana had cut up and polished wood planks. She worked, tucking wayward curls behind her ear, entirely focused on her task. When she was done, she assembled the planks into a large rectangular table. Its feet were crossed branches forming two different runes: othala on one side, and algiz on the other.

Suddenly, Mikar knew why they weren't ignoring Halloween this year.

"You did this," he guessed, gesturing all around, to the valley that had been undisturbed this morning. "The Samhain celebrations. That was your idea."

Diana looked put out with him, which meant he'd guessed right. "I don't get why you guys stopped. It never hurts to appease the old gods. Especially since you have an Aos Si for a teacher, and plenty of witches here."

She returned to her task, bending, twisting, and cutting more wood. Mikar could only watch. He never would have thought of this as furniture building, but the way she intuitively worked, without so much as measuring anything or thinking twice, made him see a different side to her, past the fierceness, the beauty, the intensity. She was also creative. He filed it in his mind, eager to learn more about the woman he couldn't stop thinking about.

"I like this tree," Mikar said, lifting the bole he was still carrying under his arm. "Can you make something I could keep?"

He'd have a piece of her after she left.

The very idea of her leaving was like a hot blade twisting inside him, but she often repeated that her stay here was temporary, letting no one forget it.

It made no sense to him. The idea of her being anywhere but here didn't compute to him. He hadn't seen her for nine hundred years, and yet Oldcrest without Diana Helsing revolted him now.

Maybe he needed to get laid. Get her out of his system. This obsession wouldn't do anyone any good.

She shot him a glance, taking in his old ash. "Sure, if it's not eaten by termites." She wrinkled her nose.

Mikar guessed a human might have taken days, if not weeks, to build the banquet tables and benches she made in minutes, but they were still beautiful. He would have liked to remain and keep watching her, but Chloe announced she needed to arrange for the food and send invitations out. Regretfully, he had to follow her back to the Institute.

Whispers and Secrets

Things were getting too strange for her taste here. If she didn't know better, Diana would have thought that someone had put a spell on her. There was no other logical reason why she'd feel so very fixated on a certain man, who wasn't even talking to her if he could help it.

Having opted to finally leave on Monday, in three days, Diana was delighted to get to attend Samhain in Oldcrest before going. It had by far been her favorite celebration out of all those they used to hold, perhaps because it was the one she'd always been permitted to attend.

Samhain celebrated the end of the harvest season, the beginning of the long nights. It was to offer thanks for the blessings given for a year, and her parents had believed that such thanks were a necessity in her case: each year, she’d been given another reprieve from death. It hadn't been hard to rope Chloe into it. She'd only just mentioned the bonfires they used to have at the lake, and the woman had rushed to her feet. When Chloe Eirikrson wanted to make something happen, she did, and the rest of the hill followed, along with a good part of Adairford.

Diana had suggested having the party outdoors, as the weather was unseasonably mild, so they'd had work to do.

After putting together enough seats and tables to cater to a few hundred people, Diana directed her attention to the thick old oak Mikar had singled out.

She frowned at it, unsure. The healthy circumference of the tree gave her plenty of options. Usually, she let whatever material she touched speak to her, but if she admitted it to herself, she wanted Mikar to be impressed.

Biting her lip, she got to work.

It was a unique tree, and Diana wanted to conserve its spirit. She sliced a plank and left it on the side, then carved four armchairs that she meticulously sculpted, polished, and bent. The plank, she propped on top of two low feet. There. She admired her work. It was a real living room suite, rustic, but suitable for any home. He'd have to treat and wax it, but she knew she'd done good work.

"That's amazing!" Chloe bellowed, coming back at the head of a dozen of her friends, hands full of boxes. She was carrying candles, at Diana's request. "How do you even do that?"

Good question. Diana shrugged. "I like making stuff," was the only reply she had.

“You’re a true artist.”

Diana shrugged off Chloe’s compliment. She didn’t consider herself an artist in general. She wasn't much of a painter, and what she did couldn’t be described as sculptures as such, but bending raw materials to her will until they were something else? That, she liked.

Chloe dropped the candles on top of the table, and moved to sit on one of the armchairs, letting her head fall back. "It's even comfy. How is wood comfy?"

Diana had made sure to incline the back and smooth all edges. She grinned.

"Off," Mikar told Chloe. "That's mine."

Chloe's eyes widened. She looked between Diana and Mikar, then broke into an annoying smirk. "You did this for him?"

Diana didn't like the implication. "I made some seats for the party," she rectified. "He asked for something worth keeping from that tree, for some reason."

"Oh, we're keeping all of these," Chloe said.

Diana couldn't hide her surprise. There were twenty long benches, dozens of stools, and five large tables. "Why?"

"Because it's all gorgeous, and practical, too. We didn’t have seats for the outdoors, which is a shame when we live in a paradise. You're super talented." Chloe sighed wistfully, her hands smoothing the table. “And this suite is something else altogether. I want it!”

"Well, you can't have it,” Mikar told her firmly. "It's mine."

She wasn't used to being told no—not by him. Chloe lifted a brow. "Even though it's my birthday?"

Mikar's jaw went lax. He hadn't known, apparently. Nor had Diana for that matter, but that was less surprising.

No wonder Chloe had wanted to party tonight.

"Your birthday?" Mikar echoed. "How come you didn't say anything?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm not technically aging anymore, am I?"

True. She'd forever be stuck at the age she'd been when she was turned.

"I still celebrate my birthday," Diana admitted. "Well, the big ones, anyway. I throw a party every decade."

"As do I." Mikar nodded. "Every year, no exception. I'll never say no to an excuse to raid Levi's wine cellar."

Chloe lowered her eyes. "Well, maybe, but we have other things to worry about at the moment."