Page 40 of Mane Brew

Anouk snorts delicately. “Caius has the pack monitoring our perimeter around the clock. He’s been doing it since we mated. Your detail is specifically for Zeph.”

Rhodes’s ears go red again, the flush spreading down his neck and disappearing beneath his perfectly pressed collar.

“It seemed prudent.”

“It seems like a lot of effort for someone who claims our relationship is strictly formal.” I step closer. Close enough to see the tension locked in his shoulders, the way his breathing has gone shallow. “Personally relevant. That’s an interesting phrase.”

“It’s an accurate phrase.”

“Is it in your files? Do you have a category for ‘people whose safety I find personally relevant’?”

“That would be highly inappropriate.”

“That’s not a no.”

His eyes meet mine. Intense. Searching. Full of things neither of us is ready to name. For a long moment, we just stand there—close enough that I feel the heat radiating off his skin, far enough that we’re technically maintaining propriety.

The fermentation tanks in my destroyed brewery are miles away, but I swear I can hear them bubbling. My magic responding to his proximity. Growing more stable instead of less.

“I should check on the reconstruction progress.” He breaks the moment with characteristic efficiency. “The structural assessment team will need supervision.”

“Naturally.”

“I’ll have a report for you by this evening.”

“Color-coded?”

“Obviously.”

He’s out the door before I can respond. The bell chimes. The mist swallows him.

Anouk waits until his footsteps fade before speaking. “That man has it bad.”

She begins clearing the tea things with quick, efficient movements. “When Caius started organizing my life, I told myself it was just formal concern too.”

“And when did you stop telling yourself that?”

“When he alphabetized my potion ingredients at three in the morning because he couldn’t sleep knowing my storage system was not as orderly as I needed.” She pauses. Meets my eyes. “Sound familiar?”

My supply closet. Rhodes on his hands and knees in my ingredient stores, reorganizing everything while I sobbed in the next room over Havoc. And then again because of the potion, or was it?

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing.” Anouk’s expression is gentle. Understanding. “You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

The day passes in a blur of logistics.

Leire arrives at noon with pastries from Moonpetal Bakery, because Sunny apparently heard about the explosion and started stress-baking before dawn.

“Debris hit Rhodes during the second explosion, you know.” Leire dumps the pastry box on the table. “He wouldn’t let anyone look at it until after you were cleared by the healers. Sakura says his exact words were ‘my injuries are secondary to proper triage protocols.’”

My pulse stutters. I ignore it.

“He’s meticulous.”

“He’s smitten.” Leire grins around her pastry. “Eat.”

I eat. The pastry tastes like denial.