Page 25 of Alpha Charmed

“Privacy is just denial with better boundaries.” Zeph waves a dismissive hand. “Drink up. The first sip is the hardest. After that, it’s smooth sailing into uncomfortable emotional territory.”

I don’t answer. I take a cautious sip instead.

The beer tastes like honey and starlight and the first cool breath of autumn. It tastes like comfort and courage and the particular bravery required to admit uncomfortable truths. It tastes like⁠—

“She’s got feelings face.” Sakura leans forward, eyes bright with interest. “She’s definitely got feelings face.”

“I don’t have a ‘feelings face.’”

“You do. It’s the one where your walls slip for approximately half a second before you lock everything down again.” Leire settles into the booth across from me, her expression warm but relentless. “We’ve been watching you do it. Usually in council meetings. Usually when Caius is speaking.”

“The wolf alpha who you’ve been ‘just colleagues’ with since before I opened this place.” Zeph makes air quotes with her fingers. “That’s not a job description. That’s a committed relationship with paperwork.”

“We’re not⁠—”

“You’ve been dancing around each other since the day you met.” Leire cuts off my protest without missing a beat. “Don’t deny it. The entire town has been watching.”

I stare at them. At my friends, who have apparently been placing wagers on my nonexistent romantic life while I’ve been busy running a coven and investigating murder.

“This is insane.”

“This is Mistvale.” Leire’s smile softens into genuine warmth. “We care about you, Anouk. All of us. And we’ve watched you wall yourself off. You work. You manage. You maintain this perfect facade. You don’t let anyone in.”

“I let people in.”

“You let people see the coven leader. That’s not the same thing.” She reaches across the table, her hand covering mine. “When’s the last time you admitted you were struggling? When’s the last time you let yourself need someone?”

The question lands like a blow. I don’t have an answer—or rather, I have one, and it’s too raw to speak aloud.

Yesterday. In Mathilda’s cottage. With Caius’s hand in mine and his voice saying words I haven’t been able to stop replaying.

He positions himself where he can see you enter. Caius. At every council meeting. Every formal gathering.

I didn’t know that. I didn’t let myself know that. I’ve spent years carefully not-knowing all the ways Caius Sternwolf has been present for me, all the spaces he’s occupied at the edges of my awareness.

There’s a difference between being seen by friends and being seen by him. With Leire and Sakura, the vulnerability felt like practice. With Caius, it felt like the real thing.

“And with him.” Leire’s gaze sharpens. “There’s been a shift between you and Caius. I can see it in the way you’re avoiding the topic.”

“I’m not avoiding⁠—”

“You’ve mentioned the murder three times. You’ve mentioned Cordelia’s suspicious behavior twice. You haven’t mentioned spending days in close quarters with a man who’s been circling you since you took leadership of this coven.” Her grip on my hand tightens. “What happened?”

I take another sip of beer. Stall for time. Watch the bottles behind the bar rearrange themselves again—by size this time, tallest to shortest.

“He kissed my hand.” The confession comes out barely above a whisper. “After we found the journals. After I admitted—” I stop. Breathe. Try again. “After I admitted that I’ve been hiding how much I’m struggling. After I told him that needing him is what scared me.”

Silence. Then Zeph lets out a sound that might be a squeal or might be a victory cry.

“He kissed your hand.” Sakura is beaming. “That’s so old-fashioned. That’s so romantic.”

“That’s so Caius.” Leire laughs, the sound warm and knowing. “He’s been courting you in wolf time for years. Slow, deliberate, persistent. Of course, his first move is a gesture out of a centuries-old romance novel.”

“It wasn’t a move. It was just⁠—”

“A declaration of intent wrapped in plausible deniability.” Zeph refills everyone’s glasses on autopilot. “Classic wolf behavior. They’re very good at communicating without words. All those meaningful stares. All that protective hovering. All those ‘accidental’ touches that are definitely not accidental.”

I think of Caius’s hand brushing mine while we searched Mathilda’s cottage. His shoulder pressed against mine while we read her journals. The heat of his palm against my cheek before Grandmother Peach interrupted.