I lifted one black eyebrow. “She stays out of your bed.”
“I give you no promises on that.”
“Then I give no promises that I won’t maul you right next to her in your own bed.”
“I can see why she hates you so—other than the obvious.” He snorted. “And nice book you dropped back here. Glad to know the Shifter Kingdom is dedicated to the finer arts. There are so many imbeciles that leave their partner wanting.”
I growled quietly and tracked his movements by scent, my eyes following him as he left the building through the back door. I yanked my attention to the books of flora. Bishop would come searching soon.
I grabbed the closest portrait tome—and my other book.
The assistant wrapped both of them for me in the backroom while I stared in silence at the shopkeeper, amused by his fearful, nervous tics. But my attention snagged on a stool he stood on to reach a higher shelf. I grunted and rumbled, “How much for the stool?”
His price was far too steep for the worn piece.
I dropped coin on the counter for my purchases, stuffed the books in my satchel, and happily left the fucking bookstore behind—with an overpriced, wooden stool gripped in my right hand.
