A few steps more and I had her down the street, over the cracked sidewalk, through the shop’s door, and into the dim, familiar quiet of my domain. The moment the latch clicked shut behind us, satisfaction washed through me like warm smoke. She was finally—finally—somewhere I could keep her safe. Although “safe” would probably entirely depend on one’s perspective. Jade, for instance, probably wasn’t feeling all that safe, but I’d right that misconception soon enough.
Belfry had enough sense to make himself scarce, and for that, I would make sure to thank him. Later. Perhaps with that specialty mealworm he’d been asking me to order. The last thing I wanted to be thinking about right now was dried bugs, however, so I put the bat and his food preferences solidly out of my mind. Instead, I focused on what would please Jade’s taste buds. Another bottle of that fancy red I’d handed her yesterday? Oysters? I did not have those fresh, and I was not going to plate her anything that had previously been frozen.
My mind was solidly on the prospects of making her a gourmet meal; I did not expect her to start another round of protests. Of course, nothing with Jade ever went as expected.
Chapter 15
Jade
I felt like the walls of Hillcrest Hollow were closing in on me, or maybe it was just my own stupid heart, still thundering from that kiss in the stacks. One kiss, okay, fine, one sizzling, mind-roasting, knee-weakening kiss, and my entire worldview had apparently gone through a paper shredder. Life, love, my carefully controlled sense of self? All in ruins.
That was all his fault: Luther. Of everyone in this town, it had to be the broody, unnervingly elegant, impossible shop owner next door. The very guy who’d seemed to oppose my very presence from the start. How wrong I’d been. Perhaps it really was true: opposites attract, and enemies make good lovers. Nope, I should not be going down that path, not even in my thoughts.
The general store was dark when we stepped inside, unlike its warmly lit interior during the day. This was the sort of dim where the air felt thicker, and shadows curled at the edges of shelves. The place always looked too fancy for a farming town, like an upscale boutique had been swallowed by a magician’s hat and spat back out here.
Rows of jars glimmered faintly: saffron more expensive than my rent, truffle oil in crystal bottles, and what looked suspiciously like single-origin coffee beans from some mountain in Peru that only three people on Earth had access to. Of course, it made sense Luther had those, but some old guy from the dairy farm? Not so much. I’d seen Luther’s one customer the other day, and he definitely hadn’t looked the type to buy fancy olives.
I almost tripped over my own questions in my head. Why? Why any of this? Why here? Before I could marshal my confusion into something usable, something I could actually voice out loud, Luther began urging me forward, every line of him too smooth and composed. His silky black hair curled at the collar of his shirt; his expression, his poise—every detail fit right in with the high-priced products on his shelves.
“I should go,” I blurted, because my brain was still back in the library stacks, melting, thanks to him. “You know. Eat with Gwen.” I should not be here, eating with you, alone, my brain supplied silently, but I didn’t manage to say that part out loud. My tongue still had his taste, rich, dark, sultry, and it was scrambling my ability to think straight.
He raised one eyebrow, the picture of chilly indifference. “Gwen is currently occupied. I do not believe her mate will take kindly to you interfering.” His gaze sharpened, slicing right through my pretense. “Why are you so determined to avoid spending time with me, Jade?”
Oh, good. Direct questions. My favorite. Either I closed up and wouldn’t be able to get one sensible word out, or I snapped. The last thing we needed was for me to be rude and further antagonize this already crazy relationship. Relationship? No, nope, I wasn’t thinking that word either. “I’m not avoiding you!” I snapped. Oops. Reining that in, I swung the other way and stuttered, “I just... This isn’t...”
He stepped closer, eyes like frozen mercury. “I have a theory,” he said, voice soft, cool, and annoyingly confident. “You are overwhelmingly attracted to me. And you can’t handle it,” hedrawled, a smirk curling at his sexy mouth that made my insides do twisty things. Of course, his words were like gasoline on a fire.
I choked on air. “You’re insane.” How dare he say something that arrogant, that… I didn’t have words for it. The last time someone had said something that came close to this, I’d kicked him in the nuts and gotten myself fired. I was this close to doing the same thing, my leg twitching, my fists growing so tight they ached.
“Hardly.” His tone didn’t shift; it kept that same cool arrogance, the confident certainty that he was absolutely right. “There is no shame in it. I feel the same about you.” My stomach dropped straight through the floor, the anger sliding out of me in one fell swoop. He felt the same? Who the fuck admitted that so easily, so simply? Did he mean it? I couldn’t wrap my head around what he’d just said, and words abandoned me entirely.
Before I found new ones, he rested a hand lightly at the small of my back and guided me through the aisles toward the narrow staircase at the rear of the shop. “Come,” he murmured, as if I hadn’t just been hit by a verbal freight train I still hadn’t recovered from. First that crazy kiss, right in front of Gwen and Jackson, who, come to think of it, had chosen that moment to abandon me. Now this?
Up we went, and a moment later, I stood in the center of his apartment. Luther hummed under his breath, hummed, and went around switching on lamps. Warm pools of light blossomed across the room. I couldn’t help but stare; the space was exquisite: rich wood, velvet drapery, shelves of curiosities and ancient artifacts, and a beautiful fireplace framed in dark stone. It wasn’t cold or pretentious, it was cozy. Lived in. A placewhere someone spent a lot of nights quietly reading rather than plotting world domination.
My gaze slipped, accidentally, definitely accidentally, toward the open bedroom door. I could just see the edge of a tall bed with lush silk sheets. The place was shadowed in a way that was soft and inviting. I snapped my head away so fast my neck twinged.
“What do you like to eat?” Luther asked, sounding genuinely curious from somewhere behind me. Food was the last thing I could process—especially with those sheets haunting my peripheral vision. I tried to find an answer, but my brain was otherwise occupied; his apartment was simply too enticing.
I drifted toward the nearest bookshelf, fingers reaching for the safety of familiar spines. A wide array of subjects lined the shelves: rare histories, natural philosophy, and more than a few tomes with symbols that made zero sense. “You’re interested in the occult,” I murmured, brushing my hand along a volume bound in cracked red leather. It had a title in ancient Greek that, if I wasn’t mistaken, said something about the four humors of the lycanthrope. I recalled the theory of the four humors, of course, but I’d never heard it applied to something as crazy as lycanthropes… That meant werewolves, didn’t it?
There was a silence following my question, or rather, my statement. It stretched long, heavy, and something curled in my gut that might be dread, it might even be fear. Then I felt him, right behind me, his presence sweeping over my skin like cold fire. I stiffened, and goosebumps sprung up all over my body. “You’re invading my personal space again,” I said, trying for sharp but landing somewhere around breathless.
He didn’t move back, and I felt his warmth soak through the thin fabric of my T-shirt. If anything, his closeness brought a sense of sensual languor that made my knees go a little weak. He was an elegant man, sleek lines and sleek muscle; that made it easy to forget how he towered over me when he had me cornered. “You shouldn’t ask questions,” he said quietly, “if you aren’t prepared for the answers.”
I swallowed roughly, my pulse hammering. The air between us felt electric, tugging at things deep inside me; dangerous in a way that made me feel like I might melt into a puddle at his feet. “Is this… related to Belfry talking to me?” I asked, hating how shaky my voice sounded. I tilted my head just enough to glance over my shoulder at him, breath faltering when I realized he was so close, it would take only a few inches to close the gap. To feel his lips on mine again.
Luther’s expression shifted into something unreadable, ancient and knowing all at once. The blue gray of his eyes gleamed silver in the lamplight. “Yes,” he said simply, his statement hanging there in the air, daring me to continue. His eyes, they were daring me to ask more, daring me to be ready for things I could sense but didn’t believe. Things, I was certain, that would change my world as surely as his kiss earlier had. The real question was: was I brave enough to reach out and do it. Change my world that way…
For a long, vibrating second, I stood there with my fingers still resting on the ancient book spine, my pulse shaking through me like the world’s least helpful drumline. Was I ready for the truth? Every sensible part of me screamed, No, absolutely not. I should turn around, walk out, go back to Gwen’s cheerful floralwallpaper, and eat enough pie to forget the way Luther’s breath brushed my neck.
The rest of me, the reckless, curious, academically suicidal part, was done running. I’d always chased mysteries. I’d always wanted answers, even when they scared me. And Luther… Luther was the biggest mystery I’d ever tripped over in sensible heels. “Yes,” I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice was. “Tell me.” I almost said, Tell me now, already impatient with the not-knowing.
He moved before I even registered the shift—smooth, deliberate—as his hands settled around my arms. Then he turned me in the circle of his body, drawing me close enough that heat rushed up my throat. His hand came up, fingers brushing my jaw and thumb feathering over my lower lip. I forgot how to breathe. Again. Seriously, this was becoming a pattern. “Jade,” he murmured, his voice low enough to stir places inside me I had no business acknowledging, “you should be certain.”
“I am.” My words were barely above a whisper, but they didn’t waver. His gaze dipped to my mouth, and the tension stretched between us, thick and shimmering, alive. My heart hammered so violently, I thought he might feel it through the scant inches between us.
Then, without a single sound, he reached past me. His chest brushed my shoulder, just enough to short-circuit every neuron I had left. He plucked a book from the shelf behind me and gently placed it in my hands. The spell cracked, but it didn’t break; it just shifted. I blinked down at the old leather cover lying warm and gentle in my hands. It had an English title,faded, fragile—definitely old enough to make me wish for my cotton gloves to handle the precious volume.
