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“I get I fucked up, but she didn’t have to be so rude. So indignant about it.”
I didn’t know I was fucking up her day by trying to save Drago. But even if I had, I still would have saved my mate. No question.
Rook comes up beside me. “Don’t let Emilia get to you. She wasn’t expecting to be called as the next coven leader. She’s doing her best.”
“Well, her best isn’t very good, is it?”
His shoulders sink, and Rook gives me a small nod. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Good.”
“Now. About that date?”
“I can’t—” But even as my mouth protests, my body leans into his, and I’m glancing back at Jonah for permission.
Rook turns my face gently back to him. “He holds no answers for you, Willa. You’re so much more than their mates, little wolf. So much more than my newly discovered mate. You need no one’s permission.”
Jonah gives me a wink. “He’s right. Although that guy’s gonna take some convincing.” He nods toward Rafe.
“Why do you think I knocked him out until tomorrow?” Rook says and leads me out the front door. “Why don’t you show me your mountain?” he suggests as he stares at the crystalline blue lake
I take a deep breath of fresh mountain air and let it out slowly. “I have a better idea.”
Two helpingsof ph? and shared báhn mi later, and Rook and I are bemoaning our choice to order dessert.
“So basically, my life has kinda been a shitshow since I got the mantle, and I just want something normal and average for a little bit.”
“So I’m normal and average to you. I get it.”
I quit staring at the plate swirled with chocolate fudge and stare at him. “That’s not what I… I wasn’t — Oh.”
He’s grinning from ear to ear.
“I get what you’re saying.” He gestures to the restaurant. “Normal, average.”
“Exactly.”
“I kind of understand. Witch communities are matrilineal. I never had to deal with politics or worry about taking over if the time came. I watched my sister go through all that, and I know what a hard time she’s had.”
I nod, unable to resist another bite of chocolate cake. “Are there many male witches? We don’t have any witches all the way up here.”
“The population is female dominated. But that works out for males, because we get passed around from witch to witch simply for our genetic material.”
I can’t help wrinkling my nose at the idea. And as much as Rook’s words indicate he likes the dynamic, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s very much not OK with being used for his sperm. “Sounds kinda gross.”
“Oh, it can be. We keep strict records regarding paternal lineage, so there isn’t any accidental inbreeding. But most male witches seem to enjoy being used for their bodies and nothing more.”
He keeps it strictly about the process, logistics, and the wayothermales feel about it.
I set my fork down, pinning him with a sincere stare. “Is that something you want?”
Rook goes kind of green at the edges. “Fuck no. On the surface, it seems like the typical male fantasy, all the no-strings sex he could ever desire. But I never wanted to be partnered with someone who thinks I’m only as good as my sperm. I found it unconscionably degrading.”
Again, his words say one thing. They say he’s simply opposed to it. But everything else about him, the twitch in his jaw, the change in his complexion, the sweat breaking through at his hairline, say something entirely different.
I won’t bring it up again. If he wants to tell me why the topic makes him visibly ill, I’ll let him do so when he’s ready.
Rook lowers his eyes a moment, collects himself, then opens his palm on the table, asking for mine.
