But he couldn’t go to her and explain this eerie feeling without coming totally clean, which he couldn’t. Yet. Well, technically, he wasn’t supposed to come clean ever, not by Dreamverse rules and all that bureaucratic crap. But he was old enough, and honest enough, to admit that if he wanted to be with her, she deserved the whole truth. And he did want to be with her, which meant... yeah. Full picture time. He was so getting decked after that conversation. She packed a hell of a punch.
But that was a tomorrow problem. Today’s plan was to walk in, play it cool, stay alert, and take her to dinner. And then get them both naked.
He stretched his neck, took a bracing breath, and stepped into the library.
Daphne sat at the front desk, typing something into the computer. She glanced up at the sound of the door, and a polite, standard-issue librarian smile started to form until she recognized him. Then it turned into a bright, happy, heart-melting grin.
Fuck,his soul did a full backflip and exploded into fireworks.
Double fuck,he swore he felt the same feeling coming from her.
And super fuck, that ugly thing he’d sensed when he’d reformed here dug its claws in deeper.
Fine.
He strolled up and leaned casually on the counter. “Miss Daphne. How are you on this fine day?”
“I’m doing pretty well, thanks for asking. Had a very satisfying Christmas. How about you?”
“Oh, you know,” he said, leaning in with a grin that was all smooth edges and dangerous undertones. “I spent the holidays contemplating morality and whether it’s socially acceptable to seduce human librarians with devastating charm.” He tappedthe counter lightly. “And now here I am, trying very hard not to wonder how you’d feel about the closet area. Or, do you have an office? Or, if you’re feeling adventurous, a bathroom?”
She frowned, looked at the screen for a second. Then she licked her lips in a way that went straight to his cock–the cock that had sidetracked this entire convo because he was supposed to understand what was going on.
Daphne rose to her feet, leaned very close to him from the other side of the counter. Instinctively, he inched on so she could whisper in his ear. “Are you seriously proposing to fuck me in the library closet?”
“Or the bathroom. Or the office. I’m nothing if not flexible.”
The corner of her lip twisted up in something he might have called cruel, and it did nothing but further harden his dick. “This is a public place,” she continued, low. “There are families. Children. People come here for refuge, not only books.” She brushed her lips on the corner of his jaw. “And if you ever again allude to doing anything that disrupts the sanctity and safety of this place, I’ll punch you in the throat.”
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “That was so brutally hot, Daphne. I mean it.”
She gave him a quick peck on his mouth and dropped back into her chair, typing again like none of that had happened. “Also, the bathroom would be off-limits, anyway. Mirror broke. I’m writing the report.”
He blinked. “Someone broke it?”
“No. That’s the weird part. I was, you know,in there, and it just cracked. Loud as hell. Creeped me out a little bit. Now I have to file the paperwork, and nobody wants that during the holidays.”
He didnotlike that. Coincidence, maybe. Too bad he didn’t believe in those. He kept his voice casual. “Any other weirdness today?”
She tilted her head. “The lights are acting funny, too. Nothing huge, just... off. Like shadows bending the wrong way. I know it sounds nuts, but it made me think maybe something’s up with the neon. I hope it’s not the walls, though that could explain both the lights and the mirror.” She sighed. “I hope it’s not the library crumbling down. It’s not the youngest building in town.”
Or it’s somethingelseentirely,Hunter thought grimly. “What time do you close?”
“In about fifteen minutes.”
The door opened, letting in a gust of wind and an elderly woman wrapped in a scarf the size of a comforter. “Didn’t think I’d make it,” she said with a cheery huff.
Daphne brightened. “Hello, Mrs. Marshall. How was your Christmas?”
“Lovely, dear. Got to eat sweets with the grandkids. I’m just grabbing a few books to tide me over. Don’t want to be a bother.”
“You’re never a bother,” Daphne said warmly.
“You’re a sweetheart,” the older woman called, heading to the large print section.
Hunter leaned both elbows on the counter. “How come she can call you sweetheart and I can’t?”
“Because she’s elderly and sweet.”
