"Toby got his happy ending."
"Toby got lucky. Knox's lion chose him—he didn't have a choice in the matter, the bond just happened. Instinct took over, and Knox would literally die before letting Toby go. That's shifter magic, not effort." Robin squeezes my shoulder again. "Ash is human. Humans don't have instincts telling them who their person is. They have to choose, every day, to stay. And Ash has never chosen that. Not once. Not for anyone."
"Maybe he never had a reason to."
"Oh, honey." Robin's smile is sad. "That's exactly the kind of thinking that's going to get you hurt."
The door opens again and Toby walks in, messenger bag over his shoulder, looking tired but content. His hair is slightly mussed, probably from running his hands through it while shelving books. He must have just closed up the library.
Knox appears from the back office approximately two seconds later, like he has some kind of Toby-radar. Which,knowing shifter bonds, he probably does. I've seen Knox's head turn toward the door a full minute before Toby walks through it.
"Hey, sunshine."
"Hey." Toby smiles up at him, soft and private, the kind of smile that's only for one person. "Let me just grab my book and I'll—"
Knox takes his hand, already pulling him toward the stairs. "Book later."
"But Robin just got here, and Jason looks like he's having some kind of—"
"Robin's fine."
"I'm totally fine," Robin calls after them, waving a dismissive hand. "Go get thoroughly fucked. I'll just be here, dying of macaron overdose and watching Jason have a crisis over curry."
"I'm not having a crisis," I mutter.
But Knox and Toby are already gone, their footsteps retreating up the stairs, and a moment later I hear Toby laugh at something Knox said. The sound of a door closing. Then noises I really don't need to hear from my alpha and his mate.
Robin watches them go with an unreadable expression, something flickering across his face too fast to catch.
"That's what you want, isn't it?" he says quietly. "What they have."
"Doesn't everyone?"
"No." Robin's voice is barely above a whisper. "Some of us know better than to want things we can't have."
Before I can ask what he means, he shakes it off, putting his easy smile back on like armor.
The garage door opens and Vaughn comes in, wiping his hands on a rag, grease streaked up his forearms. He takes onelook at the kitchen—the multiple pots, the scattered spices, the tension between me and Robin—and sighs.
"How many batches?"
"Four," Robin supplies.
"For the human he met once."
"He's Robin's brother," I protest. "It's not weird to want to make a good impression on your friend's family."
"It's a little weird." Silas appears in the doorway, book in hand, finger marking his place. "Four batches weird."
"The same human who threatened arson within five minutes of arriving," Ezra adds, materializing from the back hallway.
"To protect Toby! It was protective, not aggressive."
"It was a credible threat." Ezra leans against the doorframe. "I looked him up. Army Special Forces, Green Beret. Three tours in Afghanistan, then five years of classified operations. The man is a trained killer."
"So is Knox," I point out. "He's a literal apex predator."
"Knox is pack," Vaughn says. "Different rules."
