“Can I?” Auri asked Arthur, like he was the one who decided.
He nodded. “Chase brought your bags early this morning; they’re in the hallway. If he messed it up, I’ll make him fix it.”
Aurelia slid down, grabbed half a piece of toast. As she passed, she whispered, “He makes really good eggs.”
“Traitor,” Dani muttered, fond despite herself.
Then Auri thudded upstairs, humming.
Silence dropped into the kitchen.
Arthur turned off the gas, put the pan aside, and leaned on the counter, watching her. Movement that said he’d done this a hundred times. Without her.
“Sleep all right?” he asked.
“Well enough,” she said. “The bed’s…comfortable.”
“Belonged to my parents,” he said. “My father always said it was too soft for his back.” His mouth twitched. “He’d be thrilled a witch’s spine survived it.”
“If that’s your idea of a joke, you’re rustier than I thought.”
“Didn’t get much practice,” he said.
She didn’t smile.
“Arthur,” she said.
He straightened a little.
“Why am I here?” Dani asked. “Really.”
“I told you—”
“Yes, yes, to keep me safe. You could’ve thrown guards at the compound. Instead, you brought me and my daughter into your house. Why?”
He held her gaze, wolf-alert and assessing.
“You’re my mate,” he said finally. “She’s my blood. Pack or no pack, I want you where I can hear if anything goes wrong.”
“I’m not ungrateful,” she said carefully, “but…we should talk about what all this means. I mean, aren’t I Luna?”
His jaw flexed. “I…haven’t thought about it.”
“I told you last night, Arthur,” she said, moving closer, “I’m a witch. I’ll always be a witch. Whatever happens…I won’t let you take that away.”
“I don’t want to take it away.”
“But you wish I weren’t a witch. Don’t try and deny it. You flinch every time I do magic.”
“I don’t flinch.”
“You did, in The Anchor,” she said quietly. “And Aurelia saw. I don’t want her growing up like I did, believing she’s less-than for being a witch. That’s got to be worse than being ostracised for not being able to shift.”
His teeth bared as he looked down into the skillet, jaw tight, muscles bunching. She had a sudden, ridiculous urge to comfort him, but she held firm. He knew what she had gone through growing up. And now, he hated her magic. She refused to compromise her daughter’s childhood.
“I grew up with one set of stories,” he said. “I’m trying to unlearn them. That doesn’t happen overnight.”
“I’m not asking you to flip a switch,” she said. “I’m asking what you expect from me while you work through your issues. Do you want me as window dressing while you and the other alphas decide what to do about the hybrids? I pour coffee while you talk about witches like we’re weapons, decide our fate for us in the fight to come?”
