I turned down the radio. “This isn’t a formal event. We’re just having drinks with Lucien. It’s casual. Ish.”
She scoffed. “It’s also at the alpha’smansion. That doesn’t exactly scream low-pressure.”
“Still,” I shrugged. “No ballgowns. No tiaras. But class is expected.”
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “I have class for days.”
“I don’t disagree,” I said with a smirk. “But there’s a specific flavor of class shifters expect at these things. The kind that says: ‘Yes, I might be dating a man who can turn into a wolf, but I also own a steamer and make eye contact when I talk.’”
She laughed. “So basically, polished but intimidating. Got it.”
“Exactly. You’ll kill it.”
The mall parking lot was already packed with people who had nothing better to do on a Saturday. The whole place smelled faintly of garlic fries and ocean breeze, which was a weirdly perfect combo you only got near San Francisco’s coast. I parked and led her to the double doors of one of the higher-end department stores. Maggie hesitated when we stepped into the air-conditioned sprawl of luxury branding and glowing white tile.
“You seriously shop here?” she asked.
“I don’t shop here by choice… more like out of necessity for all the outlandish events Lucien throws,” I said. “There’s a difference.”
We headed straight for the women’s section. I didn’t even wait for direction. I scanned the racks, pulling items and holdingthem up to her like I was auditioning to be Maggie’s stylist. Or her unhinged, fashion-obsessed boyfriend. Possibly both.
Maggie crossed her arms. “You don’t even know what size I wear.”
“Six,” I said.
She blinked. “How the hell do you know that?”
“I helped you unpack, remember? I pay attention.”
She stared at me for a second too long, and I pretended not to notice how flustered she looked. I turned back to the racks, holding up a fitted midi skirt in a deep plum color that would make her eyes look criminal.
“I wouldneverchoose that,” she muttered.
“Which is why you have me,” I said, handing it to her. “Humor me.”
She rolled her eyes like she was doing me a great favor, but I caught the smile she tried to hide as she disappeared into the dressing room. When she stepped out a few minutes later, I actuallyoohed.Out loud. Couldn’t stop it.
She looked incredible. The skirt hugged her hips, and the blouse I’d grabbed—soft, elegant, open at the collar—made her look like she belonged on the cover of a magazine.
“Okay,” she said, hands on her hips, “you’re staring.”
“I’m appreciating,” I corrected, trying not to think about how she’d probably look good in a paper bag. “Huge difference.”
We narrowed it down to a couple of outfits, but that one was the clear winner. I paid, ignoring her mild protest, and carried the bag out like I’d just purchased the Holy Grail.
On the drive home, she was quieter again, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.
“Lucien’s going to ask about your family,” I said. “Your career. What your aspirations are.”
“Aspirations?” she echoed. “What, like affording rent and adopting a golden retriever?”
“More like whether you’re thinking long-term. About being with a shifter.”
She glanced at me, brows drawn. “Is that... weird? For a human and a shifter to be together?”
“Not unheard of,” I said. “But I’m not just any shifter. I’m Lucien’s cousin. I sit on the council. Being my mate comes with visibility and responsibility. He’ll want to make sure you’re not going to crumble under that.”
She twisted her hands together, fingers tightening around themselves. I reached over and rested mine on top of hers.
