Krystin snorted. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“I will, thanks.”
“Just be careful,” Bella said, wringing her hands. “We don’t really know him. What if he’s dangerous?”
“He’s a werewolf who almost murdered a guy for insulting me. Of course he’s dangerous.”
“That’s not reassuring! When?!”
“Friday. Some finance bro was being a dick about the bookstore and Malachar almost shifted in the middle of the store.” I waved my hand dismissively. “But he didn’t. He listened to me when I told him to stop. That’s the point. The mate bond thing means he literally can’t hurt me. It’s like... biologically impossible or whatever.” At least, that’s what Bella’s internet research had suggested. Fated mates couldn’t harm each other. It was a rule. “Plus, he does whatever I say. It’s actually kind of nice having someone who just... obeys.”
“That’s a concerning amount of power,” Daphne murmured.
“I’m using it responsibly. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“I made him reorganize the entire sci-fi section alphabetically by author. Twice. Because I didn’t like how it looked the first time.”
Krystin laughed. “Okay, that’s fair. Use that man for manual labor. Lord knows he’s built for it.”
The apartment door opened.
We all froze. Stared at each other with wide eyes.
I’d told him to stay upstairs. Explicitly told him that Sunday book club was friend time and he needed to give us space. What was he doing?
Footsteps on the stairs. Getting closer.
“Oh my god,” Bella whispered. “He’s coming down.”
“I can see that,” I hissed back.
Malachar appeared in the reading nook carrying four glasses on a tray. The glasses were filled with orange juice. Fresh orange juice, based on the pulp I could see floating in it.
He looked pleased with himself. Proud.
My friends stared. I stared. Nobody spoke.
“I made juice for you and your friends,” he announced, setting the tray down on the coffee table with surprising gentleness. “I thought you might be thirsty.”
“I... what?” My brain was struggling to process. “I didn’t have any orange juice upstairs.”
“You did not.” He straightened, looking even more pleased. “I acquired fresh oranges from a tree not far from here and made it myself. The process was fascinating. I had to cut them open and squeeze them. Very labor intensive, but I believe the result is satisfactory.”
He stole oranges. For me. To make juice. Not even for me specifically, but for my friends.
Krystin made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed laugh, disguised as a cough.
“Thank you,” I managed. My face felt hot. “That’s... that’s really thoughtful.”
His smile widened. He actually looked proud. Like a puppy that had brought back a stick. “I did not want you to be thirsty, little mate.”
Bella made a small shrieking noise and covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes huge.
“Right. Okay. Thank you for this.” I gestured vaguely at the tray. “You can go upstairs now. We need to talk about our book club.”
He tilted his head. “What is a book club?”
