“Those too,” Luther admitted succinctly, but there was something in his tone that sounded a bit like amusement now. Perhaps there was even a hint of pride. I took in the shiny, brand-new windows that certainly helped to give this place a new lease on life, and then the neat pile of construction supplies that would further aid in restoring the physical parts of this place.
I blinked, grappling with how much work that was. “All in one night?” You didn’t just redo ten grand windows, with frames that were probably rotten to the core, in a couple of hours; in the dark. How deeply had I been asleep? Surely they would have been using all kinds of power tools to accomplish this, but I hadn’t heard a thing.
He shrugged casually, his expression guarded. “Deputy Drew and Gregory helped. They’re good with tools.” Three men working through the night had done this? How had they even gotten this specialty glass so quickly, in the right size, and hoisted it in there without some kind of crane? Then again, the mayor did say she’d spare no expense to fix up this building andthe book collection inside. She’d even hinted, rather ominously, that the town would need these books now more than ever.
I crossed my arms, a smile tugging at my lips as I considered the locals banding together so eagerly to fix this place. It was very nice, and all that sunlight streaming in promised a halt to the advancing mold that threatened the ancient books. “Well, I’ll have to thank all of them personally for...”
“No.” The word sliced through the air, sharp and possessive enough to make me jolt. He pierced me with a stare so glacial, goosebumps broke out all over my skin. I nearly jerked back a step, too, but at the last moment, managed to halt the impulse. My fingers tightened roughly on the edge of the old table, squeezing so hard the knuckles went completely white.
“No?” I echoed, raising one brow. He sounded like he was making a decree, and that was the one way to get my hackles up. See, this was how I ended up with impulsive, knee-jerk reactions. Taking a deep breath, I tried to subdue the flare of temper and succeeded by a hair’s breadth.
“That’s not necessary.” His voice dropped lower, and became far more territorial than I expected. “They don’t need thanking. It’s handled.” My annoyance flared anew, but embarrassingly, so did a flutter of something warm. I pretended it was irritation; definitely irritation. There was no way I was flattered by this strange territorial behavior. Even though it sounded very much like he didn’t want me talking to other men.
Before I could argue, something on the far table caught my attention: a neat assortment of archival boxes and supplies. I spotted cotton gloves, soft brushes, and buffered tissue; theholy grails of preservation work. My heart leapt, and I actually squealed. “Oh my God, oh my actual God, who did this?”
Of course, I already knew there was only one plausible explanation. Luther had his back turned, pretending to study a patch of mold like it had personally wronged him. I decided, for both our sakes, not to poke at it.
The moment I opened the first archival box, my purpose crystallized. The world shrank to books, paper, and the thrill of saving them. Luther surprised me by being…quietly helpful. He never hovered, just lifted crates when asked, held a lamp steady, or swept aside debris with ease. In between assisting me, he attacked mold like it had insulted his ancestors.
We worked in companionable silence, shockingly comfortable, until twilight crept in and small wings fluttered overhead. Belfry dropped onto the table beside my hands with a triumphant,Helloooo!I startled, then laughed; it felt good to laugh.
Luther shot the bat a warning look that made the little creature puff up. I swear, it looked like he enjoyed needling Luther far too much. “Behave,” he said, with a baring of his teeth that made me blink once, certain I was seeing things. What if this was a delusion after all—and now it included changes in Luther?
Define “behave,”Belfry retorted. Relief poured through me, warm and undeniable. No, I wasn’t crazy, this wasn’t me imagining things. There really was a talking bat in a vest. Which meant… maybe the other things I’d been seeing weren’t delusions either. My eyes shot from the sharp but tiny teeth in Belfry’s mouth to Luther again, but he looked completely normal now.
“Um, he won’t bite me, right?” I asked. What I was really wondering was if Luther would be the one to bite me now. Those fangs I’d glimpsed… It was a little too easy to imagine him embracing me in the shadows of those tall bookshelves and sinking them into my vulnerable neck. From the tingling in my belly, it wasn’t clear whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing.
Belfry bristled, deeply offended.Bite? Absolutely not! I only bite Luther when he deserves it. Also, I sometimes breathe fireballs. Big ones!I tried to picture that, muffling a laugh, and simply couldn’t. A bat breathing fire? I was pretty surethatwould truly be crazy, but crazy had become relative these days.
Luther pinched the bridge of his nose again; I had a feeling he did that a lot in the presence of his pet bat. “He believes that,” Luther murmured, amused despite himself. “You don’t need to worry.”
Something eased between us then, a shared spark of humor, rare and unexpectedly intimate. It was only when I turned to smile that I realized he’d stepped closer; much closer. His presence brushed my skin before I saw him, heat rolling off him despite his cool demeanor.
I looked up and found that he was already looking down. Gray eyes; sharp, knowing, hungry gray eyes. “Jade,” he drawled, his voice sliding over my name like warm silk. “Did you enjoy that wine last night?” My breath stalled, and my body went still, trapped in the predatory heat of his gaze. Everything stilled, the library going quiet, growing hushed as if it were holding its breath. All I could do was nod.
His mouth curved, slow and sinfully satisfied. “Good. At that price tag, it certainly deserves to be enjoyed thoroughly.” His gaze flicked from my eyes to my mouth, then tracked a path along my jaw, down my throat to the rise and fall of my chest beneath my shirt. Thoroughly, huh? I had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the wine any longer.
Chapter 12
Luther
I forced myself to take a step back from her. It felt like trying to walk away from the sun after standing too close, my skin thrummed, my senses sharpened, my entire being pulled taut toward her. Jade stood at the battered old table beneath the work lamp I’d set up earlier, her brown hair catching the yellow glow like warm silk. She was humming under her breath, a tiny sound she probably didn’t realize she made, and it speared something low in my gut.
This had to be too much; she was getting too close. Today, she had already learned more than she should have, namely, that Belfry could truly talk. The last thing she needed was an explanation of why she could hear him when no human should—why her mind fit so perfectly with mine. Not tonight. Not yet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to have that talk at all. I recalled the bloodshed, the danger exposure like that to humans entailed. Could I risk the others in town that way? Perhaps that was not a question I could answer alone.
“I have some errands to run,” I said, clearing my throat. My voice came out lower than intended. “It’s late. We missed lunch entirely. You should close up and head back to Sweet Dreams Guaranteed.” It would make me feel much better to know she was safely behind the warm and warded walls of the B&B. Warlock magic should protect her against anything, or at least give fair warning. To leave her here alone felt all kinds of wrong, but I had to go. I had already put off this task far too long.
She hummed—a distracted acknowledgment—her eyes never leaving the open catalog in front of her. I doubted she heard anything past the word close. Jade losing herself in dusty pages was a thing of beauty, and a problem. I really did not want her lingering alone here. My instincts rose like icy water inside me. The library was improving, yes, but it was still mostly shadows and creaking boards. Predatory things loved places like this. I knew, because some of those things used to be me.
I stepped outside before I changed my mind, the cool evening air rushing against my face. Main Street lay dim and empty, pools of lamplight stretching long across the cracked pavement. To my left, the façade of my general store sat dark, the windows like shuttered eyes. There didn’t appear to be many people home tonight. Even the repair shop was dark, and often Ted worked late. Perhaps there was a pack run happening; Liz did like to get her wolves together from time to time, and it appeared to be a nearly full moon this evening.
A whisper of air brushed my cheek, and then Belfry landed on my shoulder, silent; too silent for him. I blinked, taking in his uncharacteristically serious expression. “No commentary?” I asked, my hand going up to brush the soft fur on his head between his large ears. He leaned into the touch.
Not tonight,he answered in my head, the telepathic voice softer, gentler.You looked like you needed the quiet.Warmth spread in my chest, an appreciation I tried never to show him, lest he hold it over me for the next century. But the bond between a vampire and his familiar was an old, bone-deep thing. Moments like this made the years less hollow.
We stood together for a breath. Two ancient creatures on an empty street, pretending at stillness, or perhaps it was life we were pretending at. Then Belfry shifted, and his tiny claws tightened slightly in the silk of my shirt.Go. I’ll keep an eye on her.
“Will you?” My suspicion rose immediately; Belfry was seldom up to any good. Mischief was his middle name—or perhaps it was Gossip King—but he’d take pride in both. “Why the sudden eagerness to help?” He was far more fond of hindering whatever I did than helping, and I fully expected some kind of sassy comeback. Then again, he genuinely seemed to like Jade, and he clearly loved that she could hear him.
