Page 16 of Christmas with a Chimera (Claw Haven)

Arthur’s voice was raspy as he said, “It looks better. Not perfect, but better. Who bought it?”

“Nobody. Technically, it’s abandoned.” Emma crossed her arms tighter over her chest, determinedly not looking at the porch they promised they’d spend summer mornings on. “The mayor has been working on it with Jackson.”

“Who?”

“The old dragon who fixed your gutters in high school and taught my parents how to make birdhouses.”

“Right,” Arthur said distantly, still staring up at the house. “Birdhouse guy.”

“Anyway, they’ve been working on it. Easier to get more people to move here when the houses are ready to go. Not everyone wants a fixer-upper.”

Arthur nodded. He was still staring at the porch, claws denting his latte, his tail swishing behind him. She’d seen his tail swish more than ever in those weeks leading up to their last Christmas together. Whenever she’d asked about it, he’d insisted everything was fine. She should’ve known.

Emma stepped back. “We should…get on with the tour.”

“Right,” Arthur said. “Tour. Sure.”

For a second he didn’t move. He just stood there, tail thrashing, the rest of him scarily still. Then he turned to her so fast a feather jolted out of his wing.

“Come to LA with me,” he blurted.

Emma blinked. Part of her expected him to break out in a grin, those damn laugh lines creasing as he told her this was all a cruel practical joke that was being live streamed on his Instagram as they spoke.

But he just stood there, his tail stilling.

He’d finally noticed and put a stop to it—like he stopped any display of genuine emotion.

“What?” Emma finally managed.

“Just to visit,” he said, a strange smile tugging at his lips. “You’ll like LA, I promise! I can fly you back to Claw Haven whenever you get tired of it…”

Emma stared at him, appalled. Her eyes were burning again, a pit opening in her chest. Fury rushed in to fill it, fiery and welcoming.

“What the hell are you doing?” she exploded. “You think you can just swan in here with your—your suit and your stupid sunglasses and ask me to uproot my life?”

“Just for a visit,” he said, perilously close to begging. “Come on. I’m—I’m trying, okay? Dropping the mask. But you have to do it, too. You have to open up , not just hide under the anger.”

“I’m not hiding ,” she yelled. “I’m just angry! How dare you ask me that? Have those LA fur creams leaked into your brain and turned you crazy?”

“Emma.” His smile was brittle and desperate, with none of the charm that had earned him his awards, his mansions, and his fame. Just Arthur, being honest, finally . And breaking her goddamn heart.

Emma’s breath hitched. She wanted to cry. She refused to cry in front of him, the selfish bastard. She reached for the anger again, warm and comforting.

“I have a life,” she seethed. “I’ve moved on! You can’t—you can’t just—”

“Emma,” he said. “Please. Just consider it!”

She shook her head, a hot tear spilling down her cheek. How dare he? How dare he barge back into her life, the life she’d convinced herself she was fine with, and see her so utterly?

“You said I was holding you back,” she blurted, years of betrayal finally spilling out. “I thought we were something, I thought we mattered, and you just…left. You really think I can trust you after that?”

Emma wiped desperately at her burning eyes. All her concentration was going toward not bursting into mortifying tears, so she didn’t see Arthur’s expression until it was almost gone.

He looked devastated. Like she’d ripped his heart out of his furry chest. Which would only serve him right after what he’d done to her.

Emma smiled at him bitterly. “This is typical,” she said. “You think you can just charm your way into anything, huh?”

“Obviously not anything,” Arthur said quietly. “Not the one person I actually—”

His muzzle snapped shut. He closed his eyes, the pain vanishing from his expression as he closed himself off. His wings came down, shoulders relaxing. When he smiled again, it was cool. Calm. Not oozing charm, but also no longer the cracked thing that had been there before.

“You’re right,” he said. “It was…it was ridiculous. Got caught up in the moment. I’m sorry.”

His hand twitched. Like he’d been about to reach for her but forced himself to stop. Because he still knew her, after all this time. He knew she didn’t like to be touched when she was like this. Didn’t like being touched, period, unless it was someone she cared about.

“I’ll go,” he said quietly.

He turned. Emma watched him, eyes blurred with livid tears. Every part of her cried out to pull him back, scream in his face. To finally give him the telling off that had been building in her chest for over a decade.

She grabbed his sleeve. He let out a surprised growl, letting her yank him around.

He always did, even at the start. She’d been surprised—all that fur and muscle, and he’d let a five-foot-nothing human tug him around like it was nothing.

Then he kept letting her until he turned away from her that very last time.

She’d reached for him and found him unmovable—-like she was something he could shrug off on his way to his bright future.

And here he was. Standing there all contrite, eyes averted like they always were when he didn’t want to have a conversation. But he didn’t pull away.

“I hate you,” Emma hissed.

Arthur winced. “Emma—”

She cut him off with a vicious kiss.