“Of course.” He sounded faintly amused, but not unkind. “Theodore mentioned you were a curious one.”
Layla swallowed hard at the mention of her brother. Had he pointed Julian Rook in her direction? “Curiosity isn’t illegal.”
“No,” he agreed, giving her a sidelong glance, “but it can be inconvenient.”
She busied herself pulling down a heavy, dust-edged tome,Bestiary of the Northern Wilds, and laid it open on a nearby desk. “Here’s your best bet. Mentions a skirmish with hybrids on the northern side of the Chilkat mountains roughly two centuries ago.”
Julian leaned in to look, his shadow falling across the page. She could feel the heat of him, the faint scent of pine and earth. The smell reminded her of another alpha, another time. She swallowed down the memories, covertly leaning away from him.
“Interesting,” he murmured, tracing the text with one gloved finger. “That land is Leonid’s territory now.”
Layla kept her face carefully still. Leonid Volkhov. They weren’t supposed to talk about Dominic’s wayward cousin. She’d never forget that day. The blood. The rage on their faces as they circled one another.
They’d been as good as brothers. And now…
Julian straightened, eyes on her again. “You handle these archives yourself?”
“Yes.”
“No assistant?”
“Just Maddie, when she’s not making coffee.”
A ghost of something like amusement flickered in his expression. “I see.”
Layla clasped her hands together to keep them from fidgeting. “Is there…anything else you’re looking for?”
He watched her in silence for a moment. The stillness of it felt predatory, “Do you keep a private collection? Books you wouldn’t want falling into…human hands?”
Her heart dropped. “No.”
He tilted his head slightly, and for a terrible second, she thought he might call her bluff. Then he said, “Pity. You strike me as someone who appreciates a rare text.”
“I appreciate preservation,” she said, a bit too quickly. She coughed to clear her throat. “That is, I believe information should be free to all. Within reason, of course.”
Julian’s eyes were unreadable. “Within reason. Hm.” He closed the book gently and slid it back across the table. “This will do. For now.”
Layla tried to steady her breathing, “If you’d like, I can prepare a list of other references—”
“That won’t be necessary.” He reached into his coat and withdrew a small leather notebook, flipping it open. “You haven’t seen anything unusual, I take it? New patrons, perhaps? Strangers asking strange questions? Witchcraft?”
There it was. The word.
Layla’s throat felt too small for her voice. “No,” she said, “nothing like that.”
He studied her for a beat too long. Then he nodded. “Good.”
Her hands were trembling by the time he tucked the notebook away. She wanted him gone, wanted to return to her day. Pack business was no longer hers.
“Miss Hawthorne,” he said finally, inclining his head. “Thank you for your help.”
“Of course.”
He turned toward the door, the motion clean and deliberate. Just before he reached it, she found herself blurting, “Did Dominic send you?”
Julian paused. The silence between them stretched. Then, without looking back, he said, “Curiosity is a good thing,Miss Hawthorne. But be careful. Too much of it…well, we all know what happens to the cat.”
The door chimed as he left.
