The words landed low in my chest, unknotting something inside me. Just like that, the static I carried-the constant hum in my bones-smoothed out.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing the soft line of her jaw. She leaned in, eyes steady on mine. The first brush of her mouth against mine was slow, testing. I slid my hand into her hair and deepened the kiss, tasting her, savoring the quiet. No audience. No performance. Just her.
When we broke apart, she smiled up at me, and I found myself saying, “Thank you.”
And I didn’t mean just for breakfast.
I looked down at the tracker again. Still climbing.
It’s just the magic trying to push us to bond. That had to be it. I pushed that from my mind.
I slipped the device into my jacket pocket, hiding it from view.
Maggie
I hadn’t meant to leave the apartment in old sneakers and an oversized hoodie with my hair shoved into a topknot that was probably still crooked. I hadn’t even checked the mirror. I hadn’t even showered. My skin smelled like sleep and Roman’s sheets. My thighs ached in a way that made my knees a little loose and my pulse a little smug.
But the warmth that should have come from that memory-his mouth on my neck, the way his hand had stayed over my heart hours after we were done-felt fragile now. Like if I breathed wrong, it might break.
I wanted more caffeine. And maybe a moment to sit somewhere quiet where no one asked questions, and I didn’t have to figure out what Roman’s silences meant or why the word mate made my spine go stiff with nerves. The city was waking up around me, the streets damp from a night fog that hadn’t entirely burned off. The F-line streetcar clattered past behind me, the driver leaning on the bell like it was his personal soundtrack.
Taking Roman breakfast had been risky. I hadn’t even known what this whole thing between us was, and I definitely didn’t want to come across as desperate. But he seemed to take it well and was genuinely glad to see me.
The bell above the coffee shop door chimed as I stepped inside. The aroma of caramel mixed with roasted beans wrapped around me like a warm embrace, and for a second, I could almost pretend everything was normal. The playlist was soft and moody-some acoustic thing that probably had lyrics about heartbreak and city lights-and it made everything feel far away and safe. The windows were fogged at the corners, the view of the street outside blurred, as if the world was giving me permission to hide for a little while.
This was my spot. Pre-Roman, pre-pack, pre-magic pre-spiraling-life-chaos. The tiny shop was tucked on a quieter side street off Market. Tourists passed it without noticing, and here I could sit and sip and breathe without anyone expecting more from me.
I stepped up to the counter, scanning the board even though I always ordered the same thing-Americano with oat milk. Maybe I’d get a croissant. Maybe two. My body still felt worn out from last night, and I had that sleep-deprived, can’t-wipe-this-smirk-off-my-face hangover that came from Roman’s hands mapping me.
That was when I saw Seraphina.
She sat at the window, like the whole city had arranged itself around her. Perfect posture, cream-colored blazer, hair smooth and glossy as if she’d just stepped out of a salon even though it was barely nine in the morning. She held her matcha latte like it was a prop in a Vogue spread.
I turned too fast, my hip catching the pastry case. My hand shot out to steady myself, fingers curling around the cold glass. I ducked my head, eyes locking on a cherry danish I wasn’t going to buy. The clang of the streetcar bell outside felt way too loud, like it was announcing my humiliation.
Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me. Please
?
–
“Maggie. Hi.”
Too late. I turned, forcing a polite smile. My mouth tasted like nerves and regret. “Seraphina. Hey.”
She looked fresh, rested, radiant in that effortless, Pinterest-board kind of way. I could feel the sweat-stale hoodie clinging to the back of my neck. There might’ve been toothpaste crusted at the corner of my mouth. I could see myself reflected in her pupils: messy, undone, human.
I waited for the mention of our interaction at my kickboxing class. The one where I’d accidentally on purpose landed a solid kick that I knew she’d felt. But she didn’t bring it up. That would’ve been too direct.
Instead, she smiled so sharp and thin it felt like a paper cut. “You must be so excited about tonight.”
My stomach flipped. “Tonight?”
Panic ticked through my brain, flipping through possibilities. Did I forget a dinner? A pack meeting? Was I supposed to host some enchanted event? Roman’s dramatic tarot night?
I forced a bigger smile. More teeth. “Oh. Yes. I can’t wait.”
Seraphina’s lashes fluttered, her smile tightening just enough to show it wasn’t real. Outside, the fog finally began to lift, revealing the slope of the street, the familiar tangle of streetcar cables against the pale morning sky. Her eyes glinted like she knew she had me off-balance.
“Aren’t you scared?” she asked, like it was small talk. “You know… being human and all?”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
“I heard you and Roman are the headliners at the bonding ceremony tonight. The first to get bitten. Don’t worry.” Her gaze flicked over me, casual as a scalpel. “I’m sure he’ll be gentle.”
She tossed her hair over one shoulder and glided toward the door, her heels clicking against the tile. She stepped out into the street, merging with the swirl of early commuters and tourists.
I stood there, completely still, the smile draining off my face like water through a sieve.
Bonding ceremony?
Tonight?
Headliners? First to be bitten?
Roman hadn’t said a word. Not last night. Not this morning.
The blood in my ears roared loud enough to drown out the coffee shop noise. I barely noticed when the barista called my name. I grabbed my drink with a numb hand and walked straight out without saying thank you. My Americano sloshed over the rim, burning the tips of my fingers. I didn’t feel it.
I stood on the sidewalk and stared. The sky was blue. A bus rumbled by. People were laughing outside the bakery next door. The world tilted. The ground beneath shifted and I was the only person who noticed.
He hadn’t told me.
Why hadn’t he told me?
I replayed the last few days. The tenderness. The slow kisses. The way he held me like I was breakable and sacred all at once.
Making love last night.
Had he been… easing me into it? A soft launch before the big bite? Was it all just a box to check for him?
My chest ached. My fingers tightened around the coffee cup like it could anchor me to something real. I wasn’t mad, but a splinter of doubt formed under the surface. Once you started wondering what else someone hasn’t told you, it was hard to stop.
As I walked home, Seraphina’s words echoed through my mind.
I’m sure he’ll be gentle.
Roman had promised me honesty. Promised me a choice in how I helped him with his pack. It was all for the betterment of his standing within the pack, and a way to keep him from being forced into mating with someone.
But tonight didn’t sound like a choice. It sounded like a deadline.
Suddenly, nothing about last night felt warm anymore. It felt calculated.
It felt like I might’ve been wrong about everything. About him. About us.
I walked straight into the apartment without taking off my shoes.
My coffee was still in my hand. I hadn’t taken a sip since I left the café. My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it. My heart was pounding like I’d sprinted home, but I’d walked. Briskly, sure. Rage-walked, really. I hadn’t even registered red lights or curbs or the people who glanced at me and then looked away.
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