“I do not know fun places,” Malachar said, his voice cutting through my internal spiral. He shrugged off the hand on his arm with casual ease and took a step back to put distance between himself and the women. “I am a mated man and my only entertainment comes from my woman. You should ask her. She certainly knows better than me.”
I stopped in my tracks.
Mated man. My woman.
He’d just told them. In public. On the street. In front of witnesses. Again.
My face was on fire. My heart was doing gymnastics in my chest.
He must have heard me approaching because he turned around. His eyes found mine immediately, and his expression transformed. The polite disinterest melted into warmth, into hunger, into that look that made me feel like the only person in the world. His smile was devastating, directed solely at me.
“Here you are, little mate.”
My heart stuttered. Actually stuttered in my chest like a dying engine.
The two women had their eyebrows raised, taking steps back. Looking between us with dawning understanding and disappointment. One of them muttered something to the other. They both shot me looks that were half envious, half annoyed.
“These ladies wanted to ask you about fun places,” Malachar continued, still smiling at me like I’d hung the moon. “I told them you were the one who knew.”
I snorted. Couldn’t help it. The absurdity of the situation hit me. “Right. Well. There’s a bar on Main Street. Movie theater two blocks over. Hiking trails up in the mountains if you’re into that. The diner has good pie.”
The women thanked me with tight smiles and left. Quickly.
I grabbed Malachar’s arm and tugged him toward the door. His skin was warm under my fingers. “That’s it. You’re not advertising this place anymore.”
“Why?” He followed easily, letting me pull him inside. The bell above the door chimed. Several customers looked up and stared. “Your plan is working. Look at all these customers.”
“It’s just-” I gestured helplessly at the crowded store. “It’s enough. We have enough customers. We don’t need any more women to touch-”
I cut myself off. Snapped my mouth shut.
Too late.
He stopped walking and turned to face me fully. That smile was back, slow and satisfied and absolutely wicked.
“More women to touch... me?” He moved closer. The pamphlets were forgotten, dropped onto the counter. His entire focus was on me. “Are you jealous, little mate?”
“No.” The word came out too fast and defensive.
“No?” He took another step. I backed up until I hit a bookshelf. The spine of a hardcover dug into my back. “You do not mind when other females put their hands on me? When they lean close and ask if I am available?”
“I - that’s not - you’re reading too much into this.”
“Am I?” He braced one hand on the shelf beside my head. Leaned in. His voice dropped lower. “If you wish it, I will burn these clothes. They have borne the touch of another female. I do not require the touch of any other woman but you. You are the only one I desire. The only one I want. The only one whose hands I crave on my skin.”
Oh god. We were in the middle of a crowded bookstore. People were definitely staring. I could feel their eyes on us. Could hear the whispers starting.
“I just-” I swallowed hard. “They’re all here for you.”
His expression shifted. Softened. “Then I will make myself scarce.” He straightened and nodded once. “Problem solved.”
Then he walked away. Just turned and walked toward the back of the store, disappearing between the shelves, leaving me pressed against the bookshelf trying to remember how to breathe.
What the hell just happened?
I pushed off the shelf and headed for the counter where a customer was waiting with a stack of books. An older man with kind eyes and a friendly smile.
“Sorry about the wait,” I said, scanning his items. My hands were still shaking slightly. “We’ve been a bit busy.”
