Page 80 of Alpha Charmed

“I’m afraid to ask.”

We’re still standing on the street when Leire appears from Whisperwind Charms, Aslan a massive presence behind her. Sakura emerges from Radiant Aura Studio with Torin in tow. Within moments, we’re surrounded by friends who seem to have materialized from thin air.

“You claimed her for real.” Leire hugs Anouk with fierce enthusiasm.

Sakura bounces on her heels, weather magic crackling with barely contained joy. “The mist turned gold last night. All across The Hollow. Everyone knew.” She hugs Anouk too. “I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thank you. Please stop making it rain indoors.”

“Sorry! Emotional weather. I’m working on it.”

Aslan claps me on the shoulder with enough force to stagger a lesser wolf. “Congratulations, brother. You stopped being noble and just took what you wanted.”

“That’s a concerning way to phrase it.”

“It’s accurate. You’ve been martyring yourself since the day you met her. ‘She deserves better, the pack comes first, I can’t be selfish.’” His imitation of my voice is unflattering and uncomfortably accurate. “Meanwhile, she was waiting for you to get over yourself and just ask.”

“I didn’t ask. The magic just⁠—”

“Exploded publicly in front of the entire council? Yes, I heard. Rhodes has documented it extensively. There are diagrams.”

“And subsections,” Torin adds mildly. “The subsections have footnotes.”

The group migrates naturally toward the brewery, conversations overlapping, laughter echoing off the cobblestones. Anouk walks beside me, her hand in mine, her magic humming contentment that I can almost feel through our proximity.

This is what we were fighting for, I realize. Not just the right to claim each other. The right to have this—community, friendship, the easy joy of people who care about us.

The right to be happy.

The impromptu celebration at Duskfire Brewery lasts well into the evening.

Zeph’s special batch turns out to be called “Resolution Ale,” and its side effects include “enhanced truthfulness” and “spontaneous declarations of affection.” By the third round, Torin has composed three poems for Sakura (all terrible, all received with genuine delight), and Aslan has declared his undying devotion to Leire at least four times.

Veren arrives fashionably late, takes one look at the pitcher, and announces he’ll be drinking exactly none of it.

“Enhanced truthfulness sounds like a personal nightmare.” He drops into the booth beside Elio and steals his drink instead, on principle. “I have several ongoing schemes that depend entirely on nobody knowing what I actually think.”

“You could simply not scheme,” Rhodes says, without looking up from his notes.

“And deprive myself of my one joy in life? Rhodes. I thought we’d moved past this.”

“This is chaos,” Anouk observes from our corner booth.

“This is family.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Get used to it.”

“I’ve never had this. Friends who aren’t intimidated by me. People who see me as more than the coven leader.”

“You have it now.” I press a kiss to her temple. “You have all of it. For as long as you want.”

“Forever, then.”

“Forever.”

Zeph appears at our table with a fresh pitcher and a grin that promises trouble. “More Resolution Ale? I’ve noticed you two haven’t made any embarrassing declarations yet. The batch seems to be working on everyone else.”

“We made our embarrassing declarations in private,” Anouk replies. “Like civilized adults.”

“Boring. Extremely boring.” Zeph tops off our glasses anyway. “Speaking of declarations—my magic’s been weird lately.”