The throbbing between her thighs surged at the suggestion, as if every nerve ending had heard the wordswingand decided it was an order.
Right on cue, another notification chimed.
Jonah Pell
Thanks for the coffee date Had fun, would love to do it again. Maybe dinner next time? What’s your schedule like next week?
Goldie closed her eyes. The whole coffee date had been exquisite torture. Jonah had smiled, listened, leaned in close enough for her to smell that mix of cedar and clean linen, and she’d spent the entire time trying not to climb across the table and ruin it. He’d been so damn sweet: thoughtful, steady, and the polar opposite of Ezra’s smutty invitations.
She exhaled slowly through her nose, thumb hovering over the keyboard, trying to figure out how to respond without blatantly propositioning him.
Marvin’s head poked into the stacks. “You busy?” he asked, voice muffled around a set of oversized fangs.
Marvin, one of the part-time librarians, was technically a cryptid, though Goldie thought of him more as a walking pile of broom bristles with glasses. His shaggy black fur stuck out in wiry tufts no matter how much he combed it, and his narrow snout gave him a perpetually apologetic look. Cute in a mop-dog sort of way, but about as sexy as an unwashed floor mat. Which was, frankly, a relief right now.
“That depends,” Goldie said, flashing him a wink as she wiped her dusty hands on her hoodie. She looked down at her nails and grimaced at their state. The stacks must be filthier than usual. She flicked a dark crescent of dirt from underneath one fingernail. “Is it something fun, or just overdue notices?”
Marvin shifted uneasily, clutching a clipboard like it might protect him. “Uh… someone at the front desk asking for you.Onlyyou. I offered to help but…” He trailed off, looking both confused and slightly alarmed.
“It’s all good, Marvin.” Goldie hauled herself up, grateful her libido wasn’t doing anythingoverlyangsty in his presence. Although, irritatingly, just the fact of him being male was enough to set off a faint, unwanted spark. She ignored it, smiled at him, and started toward the front desk with her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. No accidental eye contact today. Her hormones were singing loud enough already.
She rounded the corner and nearly tripped over her own feet.
Nell was at the desk, chatting with a tall patron in a long, dark coat. His skin caught the library’s fluorescent light like pale birch bark, softened with a green undertone. Dark, vine-like strands crowned his head, faintly tousled and absorbing the light.
Her body roared in instant recognition, heat surging low and insistent. Memory replayed itself in traitorous flashes: the flex of his vines snaking around her body, thrusting into her, becoming undone around them as she clenched and writhed. And beneathall that, another sensation rose: the faintest thump beneath her soles, as though the floor itself had a pulse.
Nell glanced up, bright-eyed, and Splice’s gaze followed. His eyes fixed on Goldie, sharp as thorns, unreadable.
Goldie flushed, the spark of want colliding with the raw memory of him shoving her away, the look of almost-disgust in his eyes. She swallowed and forced her shoulders back, lips curling into a glittering smile as she drew her signature sparkle tight around her like armor. Then she stepped forward, meeting him head-on.
“Well,hello.I understand my presence has been requested for some research-related goodness?” She smiled, then flicked a hand toward Nell, shooting her friend alook. “I’m flattered, truly, but you know, this lady here is a fiend in the stacks as well.”
Splice inclined his head, posture rigid. “I understand that. But I require you.”
Goldie felt the flush crawl up her throat, her lips parting before she could stop them. She scrambled, flinging glitter over her panic—wider smile, brighter eyes, bigger gestures—but her voice still cracked when she said, “Well then, let’s see what I can do for you. Nell? Want to join us?”
Nell’s gaze flicked between them, sharp as a scalpel. “Ah… unfortunately, I have to handle archival intake reports.”
Her eyebrows arched in perfectly sculpted accusation. The look screamed:Something is going on here, and you are going to tell me everything, witch.
Goldie waved a hand, sparkling like it was a shield. “Alrighty then! This way.” She turned on her heel and all but speed-walked toward the research desk, already hating everything about her life.
“So,” she said brightly, plopping down at the terminal and jiggling the mouse, eyes fixed on the screen. “What sort of research brings you here today?”
“I require information on breaking land transfers in wills.”
“Well, that’s… interesting. And wildly vague.” Goldie tapped on the keyboard, letting her hands do the thinking while her brain scrambled to catch up. “We’ve got a lot of different ways this could go. You’ll have me lost in the stacks for hours if we’re just sticking with the broad category. So maybe… a little more context?”
He was looming at her shoulder, silent as stone, and she couldfeelthe awkwardness like static against her skin. Risking a glance, she saw he was very carefully looking at a spot somewhere over her shoulder. His hands twitched at his sides, vines shifting in restless knots.
He was… fidgeting?
Goldie bit her lip. “Okay, well. Why do you need this exactly? Might help me narrow the search. I’m good, but I’m not psychic.”
“The Thornfather has been designated majority shareholder of the Green Holdings Land Trust upon Marlow Truckenham’s death. I wish to break the claim.”
Her eyes darted back to the computer screen. The text swam, letters slipping sideways as if someone had nudged them out of place. Her pulse thudded in her ears, and beneath the floorboards came another slow, answering beat.
