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CHAPTER EIGHT

The Cat & Cauldron was perpetually busy this time of year, but Sam Barley always kept the corner booth empty for the witches of Hawthorne Manor. When Allen and Boar arrived, they were immediately greeted and ushered over by the man himself.

“House lager for you and your friend, Master Boar?” Sam asked, setting down a basket of brown bread and a crock of butter. “And who else might be joining you today?”

Boar ordered another beer for Rose and a pot of hot green tea for Lilac, then a tureen of ham and split pea soup for the table. “And a salmon Caesar salad for Lilac. But put the dressing on the side, okay? She never eats it but the Green Mother help you if you omit it.”

The two other men shared an innocent albeit knowing chuckle, and Allen wondering if Boar ever considered his “brotherly duties” as high-handed and perhaps a touch chauvinistic. It was very different in the shifter world. If anything, the male deferred to the female. They might be smaller, but they could be more vicious, and there was the fact that each of them had the potential to become mothers and perpetuate their world.

“Sam, was it?” Allen asked, knowing full well the pub owner’s name. “Make sure there’s soup enough for four and an extra bread bowl, please. For Lilac.”

Sam glanced at Boar for confirmation, and the witch just shook his head. “It’s fine, Sam. You don’t know this yet, Allen, but Lilac doesn’t eat carbs.”

“Just seems the polite thing to do.”

“And I appreciate you showing consideration for my sister. That’s all for now, Sam, thanks.”

The pub owner gave another nod and bustled off, greeting a few newly arrived patrons as he went. It was a wonder he could hear the ringing of the little bell above the door above the din of the conversation and the lively music over the speakers. Allen wouldn’t say he was having trouble deciphering it all himself, but he certainly needed to concentrate.

And that was just with the hearing. The scents? Spirits above, his headache was threatening to return in a big way. In addition to the typical olfactory potpourri of beers, liquors, and pub food, there were evergreen wreaths in all the frost-edged windows, greenery strung from the rafters, and spiced pinecones hanging from the garlands.

Yet, through it all, he scented her the second she walked into the pub.

Lilac Hawthorne smelled fresh, like the spray of a waterfall when the sunlight hits it just right, and faintly of her floral namesake. Rose was more earthy with traces of nutmeg and mushroom.

As Sam ushered the women to the booth, their teeth chattering, Allen lurched upright. “Ladies,” he greeted.

His wolf hoped Lilac would choose to sit next to him, safe within the booth’s interior while he protected her from the outside. It was like the sidewalk rule, only for restaurant seating.

Except it was Rose who darted in, waggling her eyebrows at her sister. “How chivalrous.”

Lilac huffed and sat beside her brother, looking less than pleased that she’d have to spend the next hour or two sitting across from Allen. His wolf wagged his tail, stubbornly optimistic.

No sooner did they sit than a server whisked right over to them, a brown tray resting on her shoulder. The young woman’s dark hair was braided and coiled around her head like a crown, little sprigs of winterberry sticking out of the weave. It was the only spot of color on her, the Cat & Cauldron’s uniform as black as the cat and the cauldron it was named after, though a little golden-pink blush glittered on her cheeks.

“Talia,” Lilac said, as if remembering aloud.

The young woman, though they seemed of similar age, bobbed a curtesy.

“Here are your drinks, mistresses, sirs.” She unloaded three glass steins of amber beer for the men and Rose and a small pot of hot green tea for Lilac. “Food’ll be right up, but is there anything else I can get you in the meantime?” She batted her eyelashes at Boar, but his attention was on his beer.

“We’re good, thanks,” Allen said, giving her a kind smile.

Talia never saw it, gazing longing at the male witch. She gave a belated but cheerful, “Mm-hmm, okay,” treasuring Boar with one last look before spinning away to check on her other guests.

When she was gone, Allen leaned across the table to tell Lilac, “I took the liberty of ordering you the split pea soup.” It should’ve been no big deal, but his wolf had been nagging at him. Sharing food with someone was a sign of respect . . . and intimacy . . . and his wolf couldn’t bear one more second without knowing what Lilac thought of the gesture .

“What a liberty indeed.” She didn’t look at him as she poured some tea into her cup. “I don’t eat carbs.”

His wolf’s ears slumped.

Boar wiped the beer foam from his lip. “Told you, Allen. Don’t worry, Li. I got you your salmon Caesar salad, dressing on the side, though I don’t know why you even bother since you never eat it.”

“Don’t know why you’re even concerned about it since it’s not your food,” she replied, lifting her cup for a sip.

“Okay, we’re going to let Lilac thaw out and get you up to speed in the meantime,” Boar announced. “You’re the caretaker of Hawthorne Hall now, Allen, until Zofia’s out of the hospital. What does that mean? It means—”

“Can we just pause here for a second?” Lilac interrupted. “Don’t look at me like that, Boar. You’re about to spill family secrets to a man you’ve never even met. If he is a man at all.”

“I’d be happy to prove it to you,” Allen said calmly, “but then Sam might have to throw me out of here for indecent exposure.”

Rose choked on her beer, slapping a hand over her mouth before she sprayed the table. Smirking, Boar handed her a napkin. Lilac’s ivy-green eyes glittered like chips of emerald.

“I meant human ,” she clarified sourly. “We all know who Nan believes him to be—worthy of being her successor—but obviously this transfer of power was made in haste. Who’s to say he wasn’t the one who facilitated these circumstances?”

Boar and Rose shared a glance, then her brother shifted in his seat and sucked in a deep, nearing-the-end-of-his-patience breath.

“That’s a very astute theory,” Allen said, cutting Boar off. “All I have is my word and Zofia’s. How else would you like me to prove it to you?”

“Touch this.” She thrust out her arm, offering her wrist. And the iron cuff that encircled it .

“Okaaay.” He reached over and placed only the pad of his index finger on the iron cuff. Nothing happened, and Lilac couldn’t hide her disappointment. She was a dog with a bone about him, determined to find fault in him. Determined not to trust him. Well, he didn’t need her trust to protect her, but it sure went a long way.

And, he wanted it. Craved it, and his need had nothing to do with his years as a Green Beret or with his current mission with the Coalition.

“Anything else?” he asked sincerely.

“Lilac, c’mon,” Boar said. “He’s not Fair Folk, he’s not a witch or a practitioner, otherwise we would’ve already sensed his magic, and—”

“And he’s not a warlock,” Rose added. “His eyes aren’t ringed in red and angry looking. You have really beautiful eyes, Allen.”

“Thank you.” He clinked his stein against hers.

“He could be a shifter,” Lilac fired back.

Allen snorted, the first time he’d met her with derision. As much as he hated to treat her that way, he had to keep his cover intact. “In this town? Not a chance. Your reputation is legendary.”

His words seemed to spear her right in the heart, and her ivy-green eyes flew so wide they resembled patina pennies. Then she lurched upright, fleeing in the direction of the restroom sign before Allen could rise or even protest.

He looked back at the other Hawthornes in bewilderment. “What did I say? Your family’s reputation for hating shifters is legendary, isn’t it?”

“It’s not you.” Rose slid Allen’s beer closer to his hand. “Finish that so my brother can order more.”

“I should go after her.”

“No,” Boar said, “you should do as my sister says and drink that beer. Lilac’s been strangely volatile lately. If you go after her, you might not come back.”

“She’ll be fine,” Rose assured him. “She always is.”