Ali stared after him, her hand still tingling.Around her, the other patrons exchanged knowing looks.She wanted to crawl under the nearest table.
"Well," Bertha said, turning back to her grill with a satisfied expression."That boy's been wound tighter than a spring for twenty years.You just snapped his control like a twig."
"What just happened?"Ali asked, though she had a sinking suspicion she already knew.
"Honey," the banshee at the counter said, her otherworldly voice carrying notes of amusement, "you just walked into a mate claiming.Hope you didn't have other plans for the next few decades."
Ali's coffee cup hit the table with a clink."Mate claiming?Oh, come on.I just met the guy five seconds ago."
"Biology don't care about your timeline, sugar," Bertha called from behind the grill."That male's been alone since he was barely more than a cub.His instincts are probably screaming at him to throw you over his shoulder and carry you off to his cave."
"Truck," Maple corrected with a grin."He'd carry you off to his truck.Much more civilized."
"This is not happening," Ali muttered, but even as she said it, she could feel her magic reaching toward the door like it was trying to follow him."I came here for a story, not to get claimed by Sasquatch."
"Might want to tell your magic that," the banshee observed."It's practically vibrating with want."
Ali glanced down and cursed.Faint sparks of golden light were dancing around her hands—a dead giveaway that her power was responding to something it really, really liked.She shoved her hands under the table and tried to think unsexy thoughts.Tax forms.Root canals.Her stepfather's lectures about appropriate life choices.
None of it worked.Her magic kept humming its approval, and her body kept remembering the way Big Timber's hand had dwarfed hers, the careful strength in his grip, the way he'd looked at her like she was the answer to a question he'd been asking his whole life.
"Look," she said, trying for reasonable and landing somewhere closer to desperate, "I don't know anything about mate bonds or supernatural biology.I'm just a photographer trying to make rent."
"And now you're a photographer who's been claimed by a horny cryptid," Bertha said cheerfully."Congratulations.Your rent problems are probably solved."
Before Ali could ask what that meant, the door opened again.Big Timber stepped through, and the change in his demeanor was immediately obvious.Gone was the careful politeness from before.Instead, he moved with the focused intent of a male who'd made a decision and wasn't interested in negotiating.
His gaze locked on hers with laser intensity, and Ali’s breath caught.There was something primitive in his expression now, something that spoke to the deepest parts of her witch nature.She wanted to either submit or challenge him to a dominance fight.
Neither option was acceptable for a professional interview.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice carrying notes of command.Her spine straightened involuntarily."Outside."
"I'm pretty sure we can talk right here," Ali replied, lifting her chin defiantly.She might be attracted to him, but she wasn't about to be ordered around by some brooding cryptid with control issues.
Big Timber's eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer to her table.Lust flooded her and she had to stop herself from literally throwing herself at him.
"You felt it," he said, leaning down until his face was level with hers."Don't try to tell me you didn't.Your magic lit up like a Christmas tree the moment I walked through that door."
"My magic responds to lots of supernatural signatures," Ali lied, grateful that her voice came out steady despite the way her heart was hammering against her ribs."It doesn't mean anything special."
Big Timber's smile was sharp enough to cut glass."Is that so?"Without breaking eye contact, he reached out and brushed his fingers along her forearm—barely a touch, but enough that her magic flared so bright that several other patrons blinked and looked away.
"Still think it doesn't mean anything?"he asked, his voice dropping to frequencies that seemed to vibrate through her bones.
Ali jerked her arm back, glaring at him even as her body sang with the contact."Don't touch me without permission."
"But you liked it when I did."The smug satisfaction in his voice made her want to either slap him or climb into his lap."Your scent changed.Got sweeter.More aroused."
Heat flooded her cheeks."You—that's—you can't just go around scenting people like a perverted bloodhound."
"Can't help what my nose tells me, sweetheart."The endearment rolled off his tongue like honey, and Ali hated how much she liked the sound of it."And right now it's telling me you want me as much as I want you."
"What I want," Ali said through gritted teeth, "is to do my job without being sexually harassed by cryptids with boundary issues."
Big Timber threw back his head and laughed—a rich, rumbling sound.
Her stomach flipped with unexpected pleasure.
