Page 68 of Alpha Charmed

“Posterity can wait until I’ve had a drink,” Aslan tells her.

“Posterity doesn’t care about your drinking schedule.”

“Posterity doesn’t know what I’ve been through today.”

Sunny Clearwater has somehow materialized with another basket of calming pastries. “Emergency stress relief,” she announces, pressing a scone into Jasper Moonwell’s trembling hands. “Biscuit and I sensed distress from the bakery. Also, the thunderstorm in the enchanted windows was visible from three streets away.”

The alphas cluster near the doors, exchanging looks that communicate volumes. Elio catches my eye, tilts his head in Anouk’s direction with a meaningful expression.

Go. We’ve got this covered.

I nod my thanks and move toward Anouk, who is currently pretending to inspect damage to a wall sconce while very obviously avoiding conversation with the three council members trying to get her attention.

“Coven Leader Darkwater⁠—”

“The formal debriefing can wait until tomorrow.” My voice carries just enough alpha authority to make the council members step back. “She needs rest.”

“But the protocols⁠—”

“Will still exist in the morning.” I take Anouk’s elbow, steering her toward the side exit. “Vera has authority to handle immediate matters. Any questions that require the coven leader’s attention can be directed to her office. Tomorrow.”

The council members exchange uncertain looks but don’t argue. Smart.

“You’re very commanding when you want to be,” Anouk murmurs as we slip through the door.

“I’m always commanding. You just don’t usually let me get away with it.”

“I’m too tired to argue.”

“Then we should get you somewhere you can rest.”

The apothecary is quiet when we arrive.

Late afternoon light filters through the windows, catching dust motes that drift across the still air. The herbs lining the shelves seem to lean toward Anouk as we enter—responding to her presence, her magic, her exhaustion. The brass bell above the door chimes once, then falls silent, as if the shop itself understands this isn’t a moment for announcements.

“I should check the wards.” She moves toward the back room. “Make sure nothing was damaged in the⁠—”

“The wards are fine.” I catch her wrist, turn her to face me. “You’re not.”

“Caius—”

“You fought a Preserver agent. Survived a severing ritual. Maintained perfect control in front of the entire council.” I draw her nearer, watching the way her careful mask flickers at the edges. “You don’t have to maintain it anymore. Not with me.”

For a moment, she resists. Old habits, deeply ingrained. The coven leader who never shows weakness, never lets her guard down, never admits that she might need⁠—

The mask cracks.

It’s not dramatic. No tears, no collapse. Just a slow exhale, a relaxation of tension in her shoulders, a slight lean toward me that becomes a full surrender when my arms wrap around her.

“That ritual,” she whispers against my chest. “I couldn’t feel you. For a moment, I couldn’t⁠—”

“I know.” I press my lips to her hair, breathing in the scent of herbs and magic and her. “I couldn’t feel you either.”

“It was terrifying.”

“Agreed.”

“I’m not supposed to be terrified.” Her voice cracks slightly. “I’m not supposed to feel like my world ended when I lost your location for thirty seconds.”