“It’s the only one I can give you.” He met Hux’s gaze without flinching. “I don’t make promises I might not keep. If I discover the source of the manipulation, I’ll share that information. What Haven Shores does with it is your decision.”
“And if the source is something you can stop?”
The question hung in the air. Aero felt the weight of six different gazes, six different judgments. His dragon paced a restless circle, offering no guidance. It was too busy thinking about storm-colored eyes and the way ozone clung to wild dark curls.
“Then I’ll consider my options.”
It wasn’t a commitment. They all knew that.
But something in Theo’s expression shifted. Some calculation completed. “Fair enough,” the wolf alpha said. “For now.”
TWELVE
AERO
The conversation fragmented after that. Beck ordered another round. Cal excused himself to check in with someone named Dahlia—his mate, apparently. The one who made the pastries Delos had already declared “supernaturally good.” The tension eased into something more casual, more ordinary.
Aero should have relaxed. This was progress. Integration. The kind of social foothold that would make his research easier.
Instead, he kept returning to thoughts of Cassia.
He was doing it again. Cataloging variables that weren’t variables. Analyzing a situation that had no data to offer, only certainty he refused to accept.
“You’re doing it again.”
Leo Castellan had moved closer while Aero was distracted, claiming the seat Cal had vacated. The lion studied him with an expression that was uncomfortably perceptive.
“Doing what?”
Leo tilted his head. “You look like you’re solving a problem that isn’t the weather.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“The storm witch.” Leo’s voice dropped, meant only for Aero. “Cassia Gale. I had that same expression six months ago when I was trying to convince myself Junie was just an interesting research subject.”
Aero’s spine stiffened. “Miss Gale is my research partner. Nothing more.”
“Uh-huh.” Leo’s smile was knowing in a way that made Aero want to shift and fly somewhere—anywhere—else. “I used to tell myself Junie was a ‘professional complication.’ Spent months analyzing my response to her. Made charts. Considered whether I might be ill.” The smile widened. “Sound familiar?”
Too familiar. Uncomfortably so.
“I don’t form attachments,” Aero said. The words felt rehearsed. Hollow.
“Neither did I. Neither did any of us.” Leo gestured around the table—at Theo, at Cal’s empty seat, at the other males who’d found their mates in Haven Shores. “We all had our reasons. Our walls. Our carefully constructed arguments for why feeling things was a bad idea. And then we met the person who made all of it irrelevant.”
“My situation is different.”
“It’s exactly the same. You’ve just had longer to build your walls.” Leo’s expression softened, losing some of its teasing edge. “Look. I’m not going to tell you what to do. But I spent most of my life believing that control was strength and vulnerability was weakness. Turns out I was wrong. Turns out letting someone in doesn’t make you weak—it gives you something worth fighting for.”
Before Aero could respond, Cal dropped back into the booth, his phone still in hand. “Dahlia says hi. Also says to remind the dragon that the bakery opens at six if he wants to try the croissants.”
“She’s recruiting customers through her mate now?” Leo raised an eyebrow.
“She’s being friendly.” Cal’s tone was mild, but his eyes found Aero’s. “Dahlia also mentioned that Cassia came by this morning. Seemed distracted. Kept looking toward the harbor like she was waiting for something.”
“Or someone,” Leo added helpfully.
Aero’s dragon preened at the implication. He told it to shut up.
