And my wife had walked in and claimed it like it was nothing.
Ignoring my snarls, she turned back to whatever she was doing with the flame.
Heat crawled up my spine. My wolf grumbled, pushing at my control. She’d walked into territory that wasn’t hers and touched things that belonged to us. She’d claimed space without permission.
Except she was right. I hadn’t used it. I hadn’t been able to.
The admission tasted bitter on my tongue.
My jaw clenched hard enough to make my teeth ache. Every argument I could think of fell apart before I could voice it. She hadn’t actually disturbed anything that mattered.
The fact that she was right about it only made me angrier.
The wooden wolf I’d carved as a boy sat on the shelf where I could see it. She’d moved it from the drawer. Set it somewhere visible, like it mattered.
She glanced up at me, that same calm expression on her face, her enchanted pen hovering beside her like some kind of tiny, judgmental witness.
“Do you have something you need to say?” she said. “Because your heavy breathing is interfering with my concentration.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Very well.”
The sweet scent of her hit me full force. Magic and flowers. My wolf perked up. Despite his grumbling, he was pleased to be near our mate again after days away.
I shoved the thought down hard.
I should leave. Walk out. Rebuild the distance I’d spent all my days away trying to establish between us.
Instead, I stayed where I was, watching her return to her work.
She added something to the simmering cauldron and after studying the effect, dictated a notation in the journal. Moving around me, she lifted a glass vial to the light filtering through the window. The late afternoon sun caught the liquid inside, turning it amber.
“What are you making?” I asked.
“I’m testing a crystallization hypothesis.” She held the vial higher, examining it from different angles. “Dragon scale fragments form interesting patterns when exposed to controlled temperature variations. I’m trying to determine if the pattern formation is responsive to external magical influence or purely chemical in nature.”
My wolf’s interest sharpened. Dragons. Our territory didn’t have dragons, but the mountain ranges did.
“And if it’s magical?” I asked.
“Then the applications for protective charms expand significantly. Dragon scales are already among the strongest natural magical conductors, but if the internal structure responds to directed magical input…” She set the vial down, turning to face me fully. “Why am I explaining this to you?”
“Because I asked.”
“You were angry thirty seconds ago.”
“I’m still angry.”
“You don’t look angry.” Her head tilted again, that analytical expression sliding across her face. “You look curious.”
The skin on the back of my neck prickled. The office smelled different now, like magic and herbs and her. My wolf approved of the change, the way our mate had marked the space without even trying.
I was not pleased about my wolf’s approval.
A strand of her hair had come loose from the bun she’d pinned it in. It fell across her cheek as she leaned over a beaker, and she pushed it back.
It fell forward again.
