Her gaze dropped to his lips.
It was instinctive. Unintended.
They both felt it at the same time, that subtle shift in the air and both of them recognized immediately.
They stepped apart almost in unison.
Charles cleared his throat, drawing in a steadying breath. "I… uhm… I'm guessing Delilah needs to be prepared for the next full moon."
"Yes, yes, of course," Claudia muttered, turning away slightly, pretending great interest in the carved edge of the table.
"Is there anything else you wanted?" Charles asked.
"No. That will be all."
"I'll drive you home."
Claudia sighed, rubbing her temples. "I really have to get a replacement for Benedict."
Charles' mouth curved into a faint smile. "I can help you find capable hands if you want. Although, I doubt Benedict can be replaced."
"No, he cannot." Claudia said. She turned to leave.
Against every instinct Charles had honed over nineteen years of restraint, grief, and self-imposed solitude, he heard himself speak.
"Luna Mother?"
