Page 40 of Witchwolf

She hummed as she pulled a clear container out of the fridge, filled with packages of sliced meat and cheese. “He’s concerned you’re not getting enough time for yourself?”

Suddenly, it was my turn to think ill of Donnie. I frowned and cocked my head. “That’s... that’s what he said.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“He’s my best friend,” I defended instantly, like my knee jerking when a doctor thwacked it with that little hammer. Then I sighed. “It’s a little weird for him. I overworked myself all through college and he didn’t seem to mind all that much. But he’s worried now that I’m working too much. He offered to introduce me to a guy.”

She had turned to pull a fresh crusty loaf from the breadbox, and as she turned back, she lifted a brow at me. “I believe you already have a gentleman. Have you not informed him?”

I winced at that, watching her hands as she started to make a sandwich, rather than meeting her eye. After a moment, I couldn’t hold back. “I do. Except... Jax keeps telling me other mages will hate me for being with him. Like he’s actually an animal and not a person. Like there’s something wrong with me because... because he’s the one who Awakened me.”

She paused in spreading mustard on a slice of bread, considering. Then she nodded, before going back to work. “I suppose some would. Less because they don’t think of wolves as human than because they would be annoyed that you didn’t follow traditions. It’s like mundanes going home for the holidays with pink hair, tattoos, and piercings. Their mothers don’t approve because it’s simplynot done, not because there’s something inherently wrong with any of those things.”

“So it doesn’t... there’s nothing wrong with my magic, just because it wasn’t Awakened by another mage? I’m not... weaker, or wrong?”

At that, she scoffed. “Oh please. You’re the candle, Dakota. It’s an entity in and of itself; it’s not created by the flame. It doesn’t make a difference whether it’s lit by a match, a lighter, or magic. It still has the same amount of wax and wick, no matter what.”

I leaned on the counter, raising a brow at her. “So if an incompetent mage had done it, I might have exploded in a mess of burning wax?”

She laughed at that, then pointed the knife at me. “Clever, but not quite. The candle has no will of its own. No control over its own fate. You do. Exploding in a fiery mess would be a choice, for you to make. You have to allow the magic in. Like when someone gives you the mage handshake and presses their magic against you. If you don’t react, they have no way of knowing anything other than that you’re a mage. You control everything with yourself and your magic. The person who Awakens it just lends you a bit of fire to light your own wick. Everything past that is up to you.”

She slid a plate across the kitchen island to me, covered with a huge turkey sandwich. My stomach grumbled, so I didn’t hesitate, just grabbed the thing and dug in. The lady made a fabulous sandwich.

“That is why I don’t put much stock in mage politics, though,” she said, leaning her hip against the counter and making a disgusted face before shaking it off and setting to making another sandwich. “The lot of them, so arrogant. So self-important. You’re the first decent one I’ve spoken to in decades. Since my cousin became a hermit off in the Appalachians.”

And that? That seemed like one of the saddest things I’d ever heard. So I smiled at her as I swallowed my bite. “Well, I’ll be around as long as you want me here,” I promised.

Her answering smile was so bright it lit up the kitchen, and for the first time maybe ever, I felt accepted for precisely who I was. All it had taken was a werewolf pack and a mage who hated other mages.

18

Jax

Why the fuck had I decided to have this conversation in the office?

It wasn’t workplace appropriate, obviously.

Maybe I was just trying to regain some degree of professionalism. Or maybe I thought it’d be easier to explain things to him without the impulse to shove him down and cover his body with mine—to distract ourselves with lips and hands until none of my concerns mattered anymore.

I should’ve known better, because after messaging Dakota to come to my office, all I could think about was how he’d sucked me off in his.

But mine was neutral, unsexy ground, right? Nobody thought big imposing desks were hot. Nobody hadeverimagined sweeping everything off one to bend someone over the top of it.

I hadn’t jacked Dakota off in this very chair.

And I certainly wasn’t thinking about that when Dakota knocked softly at my open door and came inside.

“Shut the door,” I requested.

He lifted one black brow at me, his cheeks turning subtly pink. When his heart rate sped, the scent of him spread through my office. I couldn’t stop myself from drawing in a slow, deep breath. My shoulders raised with it, stretching the shirt I wore, tugging at the stiffer fabric of the vest I’d put over it, straining the buttons.

I didn’t want to let that breath go. Didn’t want to let Dakota go either.

But he needed the truth, as much as I could give him. If I wasn’t going to send him away, he had to make this decision in full awareness of the risk—an equal partner.

I couldn’t protect him from me, but I could give him reason enough to protect himself.

I waved to the chair across from my desk. Distance was good. “Did you see Prudence today?”

---