Page 23 of Lycans & Lattes

10

Wyatt

Thank the moon hanging low in the sky for the sigil on my collarbone. But I couldn’t stay away from Willow as the full moon crept closer.

I stood on the shadowed street corner outside Witch’s Brew Café, staring into the darkened space. She’d gone upstairs twenty minutes ago, but I couldn’t convince myself to leave.

Go home, I told myself for what felt like the hundredth time. She’ll call you when she’s ready.

Why had I decided to torture myself by coming here?

I balled my hands into fists and clenched my jaw, turning back toward the town square, when the small window above the café sign lifted and Willow leaned her head out.

I craned my neck back, both of us staring at each other in wide-eyed surprise.

“I could feel you outside,” she announced, leaning her elbows on the sill and shaking her head at me. “Is this a mate thing?”

“Something like that.” It felt so good to hear the word “mate” on her lips. I hoped it meant something to her too. If only she could feel what I felt, how good it could be between us. “I was just . . .”

“Standing out in the dark and staring up at my window like a stalker?” she offered. I grimaced, but she only laughed. “There’s a key under the big jack-o’-lantern.”

My eyes flared at her as I spun to check the town square, but it was quiet. “Does the entire town need to know where you keep your spare?”

I pushed over the largest pumpkin and picked up the key underneath.

She snickered overhead. “Who said that was the spare?”

I had to repress a growl. “I really need to teach you better security measures.” I let myself in through the front door for a change. Then, I locked the café door behind me and headed up toward Willow’s apartment.

I knew the tidy one-bedroom well. Especially after spending days by Willow’s side while she’d recovered after the poisoning last year. I’d become familiar with her orderly but whimsical cottagecore décor. She’d been intentional with the small amount of space she had. And while Willow didn’t have much time for hobbies outside of running the café, she’d managed to collect antique art and knickknacks that all seemed to match.

I looked around her kitchen, where she was standing over the stove. “Tea?” she asked. “Or I could go downstairs and make you a latte?”

I shoved my hands into my pockets, willing myself to slow down. I didn’t need an answer this very second. She’d let me come up to her apartment; the distance between us was closing, so I needed to chill.

“A latte? After-hours service?” I mused with a rueful smile. “You’re going to make me feel special.”

The pink of her ears turned bright red, giving away her emotions without her having to turn to face me. “You didn’t come in for your usual today.”

“I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me.” I handed her a mug from the cupboard. “Tea would be great.”

She looked up at me when our fingers brushed on the side of the mug. “I didn’t not want to see you.”

The nerves in me rose higher, and I felt the need to fill the silence. “I just saw your sister carrying an armful of candles with the apothecary witches, something about a séance. You might need to look into that.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Harlow is like a magnet for paranormal trouble, isn’t she? I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to all the witchy things she participates in,” she admitted. “Then again, I’ve had to come to terms with much crazier things recently.”

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting,” I added gently, backing away to lean against the doorframe and put even more space between us. “My sister has informed me that I, quote, ‘suck at communication and couldn’t have told you worse if I tried.’”

“I don’t think there was an easy way to break that news,” she replied, taking out two teabags from a glass jar on her kitchen counter and placing one in each of our mismatched mugs.

“If there was, I couldn’t find it. Not in four years,” I mused. “Talk to me. I can see all the wheels turning. What have you been thinking?”

“I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time, Wyatt.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at me, even as her words filled me with heat. “But I don’t want to come between you and your pack, and I don’t know if I can be all the things I’d need to be if we were together. I don’t know what it means to be a queen. I just want to run my café and be with you, and now that’s not an option⁠—”

“It is,” I cut in, closing the distance to her. I took her shaking hands in my own. “Nothing matters more to me than being with you. I want you, Willow, please.” Her brows pinched together as her pale blue eyes met mine. “I won’t become the alpha. I’ll keep this sigil forever and let someone else take my place.” I pulled her in closer, my mouth a hair’s breadth from hers. “Be with me. We can figure everything else out.”

The sound of the kettle whistling pulled her from me, and she turned to fill our cups. “Who would become alpha if you stepped down?”