Don’t give anyone a reason to fear me.
“I’m not a violent guy.” I offer him a hopeless shrug, feeling like I’m failing him when he’s reaching out a hand of friendship.
The selkie tilts his head, studying me. “Are you a pacifist?” Owen asks in a surprisingly gentle voice. “If so, no need to say another word. I’m not trying to make you do something against your beliefs.”
A tension eases from my shoulders at the knowledge that he’s not about to bully me. I’ve dealt with enough of those for a lifetime.
“It’s not that. I just …” I scratch the back of my neck. “I don’t want people to be scared of me.”
“Ah.” Owen reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. “That’s how it was? Before you were cursed?”
I nod.
Owen watches me as he says his next words carefully. “Did Mor tell you about the guy who broke into her house?”
My body goes rigid. “What? When did that happen? Who was it?”
Where can I find him?
“A selkie, believe it or not. Normally, we’re pretty tame, but Hamish was a piece of work. He broke in while everyone was sleeping. Used an enchantment to keep them unconscious, but Anthony got to the house after it was cast and wasn’t put under. They fought. Anthony almost died.”
I’m breathing hard, the heavy breaths like bellows.
Another break-in at the library? I know exactly who sent the selkie. Sev chose a mythic minion who was willing to use violence in a way I never would have against innocents.
“He’s gone. The witches rigged up a punishment fitting the crime. But I’m just wondering, if you had walked into the library that night—found Hamish in Mor’s room while she was spelled asleep—would you have wanted to scare him?”
The answer requires no thought as I gaze at the thin blue ribbon wrapped around my wrist. “Yes.”
I would want to strike terror into his heart. Brand fear onto the man’s soul so that he dreams of me and cowers every night.
“That’s why I think you could be an asset to this team.” Owen pats my chest. “That break-in was out of the ordinary, but the Shellys are sitting on a treasure trove of knowledge. They could be targeted again.”
“The house has protections.” I know that better than most.
“What if the house isn’t fast enough? What if someone tries to accost Mor when she’s not inside the library?”
My fists clench and unclench.
Owen sees the signs of my smoldering fury and nods, tapping my chest with his finger. “You don’t long for violence. I think that’s a good thing. I’m not a fan either. But if someone I love is in danger, I’m going to be ready to help them in any way I can. Even if that means getting uncomfortable.” He waves back toward the library. “What do you say, Bo? When danger creeps past the failing wards, is she on her own?”
An image comes to me then—of Mor sleeping in her cozy bed, a moonbeam alighting her pale skin, until the shine is blotted out by a dark figure looming over her bed. Someone who’s come to harm her.
Fuck that.
“Never,” I growl. “I’ll never let her fight alone.”
Owen grins and pushes his boat away from the dock. “Great. Welcome to the Oh Shit Team.”
41
Mor
Bo is replacingsome old boards on the dock, and I’m shamelessly staring at the shirtless monster through our kitchen window. Unfortunately, there’s a decent distance between the house and the lake, so I’m only able to goggle a miniature version of the monster.
“Fixed,” Jack announces from the room over.
With a sigh, I leave off my staring and join the werewolf at the computer station I have set up for all library-related things.
