“Just show me,” I screech.
He rings his ear out with a finger. “That proves it. You’re not ready for this. Never mind.”
He starts to walk away, and I block his path with my body—which is tiny compared to his. If he wanted to, he could easily push me aside. “All this buildup is killing me. Will you please show me what’s behind this door?”
He stares at me for a long moment as a slow, delicious smile curls his mouth. “Okay.” He drops a hand back to the knob and watches me, his gaze never leaving my face. “One, two?—”
On three, he flings open the door and moves away. I step inside slowly, feeling like Dorothy entering Munchkinland.
Light streams through tall leaded windows and falls in thick sheets onto the floor. Dust motes whirl through the air, floating in front of rows and rows of?—
“Books!” I launch myself past Feylin without a care in the world. My shoulder grazes his chest, and a jolt of passion singes me all the way to my toes. I gulp it down as I race into the room.
Bookcases line the walls from floor to ceiling. Ladders aresecured to rails so that even the books on the highest shelves can be retrieved with little effort.
As soon as I reach the first case, I start scanning. “These are classics. Human classics!”
One glance over my shoulder tells me that Feylin’s more interested in watching me than he is in browsing the merchandise. As he leans one shoulder against the wall, his eyes overflow with warmth and a slight smile tugs his lips. “There are fae books, too.”
“Fae books?”
“Translated to English.” He points to them. “You’ll like them. They go over our history—witches and fae.”
The entire room’s steeped in the heavy smell of leather and paper. It’s heaven. I want to bury my nose in all the books.
“I could kiss you,” I yell.
The tops of his cheeks turn red. “No touching.”
“Then at the very least I can thank you.”
“No thank-you needed. Seeing you this happy is thanks enough.”
His words hang heavily in the air for a brief moment as each of us digest what he’s said. My stomach ping-pongs, and I divert my attention back to the shelves. “Oh, I know what I need.”
“What do you need?”
“Romance and pirates—not together. Separately. Come on, help me look.”
He laughs. “For romance?”
“Yes!”
When he doesn’t move, I rush up and take his sleeve, tugging him down the steps and into the room. “Come on. Help me. You know your way around this library. I don’t. Show me.”
He rubs the back of his neck as I release my grip on him. “Okay. I’ll help.”
For the next hour we search through the books until I find the two I’m looking for. “Where’s Ryals? This book’s for him.”
He glances at his watch. “Outside working with his falcon.”
“Can I see?”
“Of course.”
We leave the library, but before I’m completely out the door, I take one last good whiff and let the scent of paper and leather trickle up my nose. Nothing smells better than that.
“You coming?” he calls from down the hallway.
