Page 38 of Alpha Charmed

“Because of the claimings.”

“Because of the claimings.” Torin leans closer. “Yours included.”

“I haven’t claimed anyone.”

“Are you going to keep orbiting or finally make a move?”

“I’m not discussing this here.”

“You’re not discussing it anywhere, which is part of the problem.” Torin claps my shoulder with a force that would stagger most people. “Grandmother Peach has been appearing with suspicious regularity and excessive desserts.”

“Your point?”

“My point is that everyone in Mistvale seems to know what’s happening between you two except you two.” His smile is gentle despite the directness. “Maybe tonight’s the night you figure it out.”

He drifts away before I reply, heading toward where Aslan is engaged in animated conversation with a group of shifter representatives. The tiger catches my eye and grins, as if my entire personal life is entertainment arranged for his benefit.

I’m going to have words with my second-in-command about appropriate topics for public discussion.

The chamber door opens.

Anouk enters.

Every head in the room turns. Every conversation stutters and resumes at a different pitch. The air itself seems to shift, responding to her with electricity that has nothing to do with magic.

She’s wearing formal robes tonight—deep purple that makes her dark skin glow, cut in lines that emphasize the elegant severity she cultivates. Her hair is still down, softening the effect, making her look both powerful and approachable.

She looks like a coven leader. She looks like a queen.

She looks directly at me.

Our eyes meet across the crowded chamber, and I feel it—the pull that’s been building for days, weeks, years. The wolf inside me recognizes her with fierce certainty. The man recognizes her with desperate hope. Both are finished pretending it doesn’t matter.

She holds my gaze for a heartbeat. Two. Three.

Then she turns and moves toward her seat, every inch the professional leader who definitely was not just having a moment with the wolf alpha across the room.

I take a breath. Force my shoulders to relax. Pretend I don’t notice Torin’s knowing smirk or Aslan’s theatrical eyebrow raise or Rhodes scribbling furiously in his notebook.

This is going to be a very long evening.

The formal business of the gathering passes in a blur of reports and deliberations.

I participate where required—Network security updates, patrol coordination, the usual diplomacy—but most of my attention stays fixed on Anouk. She navigates the proceedings with flawless skill, addressing concerns, mediating disputes, projecting the competent authority that’s made her an effective leader for so long.

But I notice things the others don’t.

The way her fingers tap restlessly against her thigh when Cordelia speaks. The slight elevation of temperature whenever our eyes meet. The herbs in the decorative arrangements that have grown noticeably since the gathering began, reaching toward her like they’re seeking sun.

Her magic is responding. To the tension, to the politics, to me. She’s working hard to keep it contained, but the cracks are showing.

Elder Vera notices too. She leans close to Anouk during a pause in proceedings, murmuring words I can’t quite catch. Anouk’s expression flickers—surprise, then resignation—before she composes herself again.

Cordelia is watching the exchange. Her motherly smile doesn’t waver.

The moment I’ve been dreading arrives.

“Before we conclude.” Cordelia rises from her seat. “There is a matter of coven business that must be addressed. A concern that several members have brought to my attention.”