A matching power stirs deep in my chest. An overwhelming swell of magic pulses inside of me, electrifying my skin and making it hard to breathe. My awareness spirals outward, sensing the books: each volume unknown onEarth, each full of magic and new worlds. All around us, books lift from the tables with a flutter of rustling paper, and my spicy romance flies out of my purse, opening above me until the front and back covers resemble wings. Golden sparkles flow from my hand to surround the romance book, and my feet leave the ground.
“By the Goddess!” Luke’s strong hands latch onto my waist.
But he’s too late. We fly up, up, up,intothe book.
CHAPTER TWO
Lukendevener
Magic unlike any I’ve felt before rushes over me.
My hands flex on Skye’s deliciously plump waist, and my gaze meets her startled eyes. She’s short and soft and curvy, with a sweet little rosebud of a mouth and a mouthwatering scent, like spiced sugar. Her fair skin provides the canvas for a bouquet of color, from her daffodil hair to her forget-me-not eyes. She even dresses like an alluring flower, the rich rose-pink fabric clinging to her bewitching curves.
The pretty little witch shouldn’t be this beguiling—she’s not a dragon—and yet every time I look at her, I feel covetous. Carrying her while I flew here proved illuminating—I’d never held anyone so closely while in my weredragon form. My skin is so much more sensitive than my dragon scales. Despite wearing clothes, I’d felt every one of her sweet curves pressed against me.
It must be an aberration of my dual form. If I weren’t forced to be a weredragon on Earth, if I could take my true form…
But I can’t. As a dragon, I’m so large I’d destroy this library, and if there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s the loss of knowledge. It’s why I’ve finally admitted I need help setting my collection to rights, which led me to Skye. It seems humans, with their complex numerical systems and technology, have their uses.
Perhaps it’s her youth I find attractive. All humans are younger than me, but there’s something especially appealing about Skye, an innocence of character. She looks at the world with such hope, saying yes to my offer with little information, trusting my word.
Or perhaps the true allure is her magic, which I’ve felt since the first time I met her. Even my library reacts to her, the magical wisteria turning the same deep pink as her dress.
Her magic floods from her to swallow us in a powerful grip as books lift into the air, a flock of leather and paper birds. One of the books flutters open over the witch’s head, its unfamiliar cover decorated with a drawing of a couple dancing the waltz. Heart symbols spread across the open pages. A scowl curls my lips. I’m a serious researcher, an expert in magical theory. How could a book such asthisget into my library?
Another burst of magic pours from Skye, surrounding her and the book. Golden sparkles shimmer in the air, and she lifts from the ground.
“By the Goddess!” I grip her more tightly, pulled along with her as we spin in a dizzying rush, the new color of thewisteria trees smearing into solid pink all around.
We grow smaller—or the book grows larger—as the stylized hearts covering its pages fill my entire view.
Like a bubble bursting, a new reality snaps into being around us. I stand in the middle of a large, unfurnished room with a hardwood floor. Windows make up the front wall, looking out onto a human street, and the entire rear wall is one huge mirror. Classical music flows from speakers mounted in the corners, and human couples surround us, all moving in time with the melody.
An odd feeling of lightness suffuses my body, my balance shifted forward, my muscles more relaxed than normal. It takes the space of a breath to realize I don’t have my wings or tail. I’m in my fully fae form. Icy shock shivers down my spine. Impossible! All of our best magical researchers have studied me and determined I’ll never be able to shift into this form ever again.
Skye and I stand, still locked together by my hands on her waist. Her rosebud mouth opens in a little O of surprise. “Where are your wings? Your horns?”
Before she can say anything else, a loud voice calls out, “What in the world are you two doing?” A plump middle-aged woman in a leopard-print dress glides over to us, her steps light and graceful. Beaded braids of dark hair chime softly with her movements, audible over the sound of the swelling violins.
I frown down at her. “Do I know you?”
“Such a kidder, this one.” Her brown face breaks into a knowing smile as she glances at Skye before turning back to me. “Now, Luke, I thought we’d moved past this. You’resupposed to be doing a waltz, not the awkward foot shuffle of your first high school dance.” She moves my right hand from Skye’s waist to her upper back and places Skye’s left hand on my shoulder. Then she wraps my left hand around Skye’s right, extending our arms out. “There, that’s better. Now you take the lead and let Skye mirror you.”
The instructor steps away from us and raises her voice to address the room. “Okay, everyone, let’s keep with the beat. One, two, three. One, two, three.”
The other couples follow her voice, their movements coming back into sync.
Skye hums along, her fingers tapping at my shoulder, mimicking the one, two, three beat. I don’t think she realizes she’s doing it.
“What is this?” I growl down at her. “Where are we?”
“A… dance lesson, I think?”
“That doesn’t answer my question. In case you hadn’t noticed, thisclearlyisn’t my library.” And I am clearly not myself.
Skye nibbles on her lower lip, her eyes darting around the room.
“Miss Michelle, over here!” one of the dancers calls out. “We’re having trouble with our box step.”
