Page 71 of Elora and the Crow

“Jonah, it will be fine. I can take care of myself, remember?” Elora said.

“I don’t want you meeting someone you don’t know alone at your apartment,” Jonah said.

“Well, luckily for me, you’re not the boss of me and can’t tell me what to do,” she said with a small grin.

“I’m not kidding, Elora,” he said.

“Either am I,” she said. “I’m a grown woman who doesn’t need her friend with benefits telling her what to do.”

He winced at her icy tone. Christ, he was fucking this up when all he really wanted to do was keep her safe.

And keep her at your place because you’re a selfish bastard.

He ignored his inner voice and smiled at Elora. “The client can come here.”

“What?” she said, her shock evident.

“The client can come here,” he repeated. “There’s more room, right? And you already have all of your stuff here. Why pack it all up when you can perform the spell here.”

“You would seriously be okay with me bringing someone to your house to perform a spell,” Elora said.

“Yes,” he said. “As long as you’re good with me being here while he’s here.”

“That’s fine, but, Jonah, are you not tired of the mess and the chaos?” She studied the room around them. “Your house was very… clean before I showed up.”

He laughed and took the books from her, setting them on the coffee table with the other one. “I like the mess and the chaos.”

She looked at him in disbelief, and he pulled her into his arms again, kissing the tip of her nose. “It’s true. Having your stuff here makes the house feel like a home.”

“Okay, but I’m pretty sure your cleaning lady hates me,” Elora said.

“Oh, she absolutely does,” Jonah grinned. “She’s already sent me three texts about the candle wax being everywhere, and she said one of your books shocked her when she touched it.”

Elora giggled. “Maybe I should lock that particular book away. It does give out electrical shocks if anyone but a witch or warlock touches it.”

“How does it know the person isn’t a witch?” Jonah asked.

“Magic,” Elora said with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle.

He laughed, and she slung her arms around his shoulders. “Jonah, are you sure you’re good with me not packing up until Sunday?”

“Positive,” he said, ignoring the voice in his head that was emphatically stating Elora wouldn’t leave Sunday either.

He couldn’t quite as easily ignore the truth lurking in his brain, though - that the idea of Elora leaving him, of spending every fucking night alone in the house with nothing but his thoughts and fears to keep him company, sent horror shuddering down his spine.

With Elora here, with her magic and her warmth and her way of bringing the house to life, he could forget about how badly he’d fucked up with Caleb. He could ignore his inability to shift and pretend like he was just a regular guy, living a normal life, with the woman he loved.

Love?

He did love Elora, and he wouldn’t deny it to himself, but loving her put her in danger. He’d been careful his entire career to keep who he was a secret, but Jonah was under no illusions that someday, the job he did and the choices he made would come back to haunt him. Revenge was a powerful motivator, and he didn’t doubt that there were people out there searching for him.

He’d seen what happened when shapeshifters allowed themselves to fall in love, to pretend that they were normal. They had their loved ones used against them - either by the Academy or by people determined to destroy them.

A life with Elora meant constant worrying for her safety, always looking over his shoulder for a threat. And forget having children with her. If their child were like him, they’d have to go into hiding for the rest of their lives. He’d die before letting the Academy take their child.

He realized with a start that he’d been zoned out for over a minute. He glanced down at Elora. She smoothed her hand over his forehead in a solemn gesture. “What was going on in your brain just now?”

He plastered a cocky grin on his face, shoving his fears to the deepest part of his brain. “Just thinking that I haven’t fucked you in this room yet.”

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