I was surprised to find I didn’t mind. “I spelled them with a glamour, much like I did my scent when we first met. If I expend too much magic, like I did in the barn, then I have none left to power even simple spells.”
His eyebrows knit together. “Doesn’t that require concentration? Or however magic works for your people?”
My lips lift in a smile. “Oh, hardly. If I were an amateur witch, I might get a slight headache. For a witch of my skill and talent, it takes about as much mental strength as holding a feather.”
“Very modest,” he says with a chuckle, giving my hand a squeeze. He hasn’t let go since we left the car, and I don’t want him to.
“Modesty,” I say with a sniff, “is for the weak.”
A pleasant silence settles over us as we walk streets of old red-brick buildings and cobblestone roads. Something has shifted between us. Gunnar was a witness to the weakest parts of myself.I’ve never wanted anyone to see me as anything less than the confident, flamboyant image I project, but he saw all my shame and trauma—and he stayed and held me through it all. A lump rises in my throat, and I squeeze his hand.
“Can you let your shields down?” Gunnar asks.
I tense, frowning. “I have them up?” For years I’ve kept my scent locked down so shifters couldn’t use it against me. That way, I’d know if they tried to trick me with some nonsense about my scent. It’s become such a habit, I’ve maintained it without even realizing.
“Aye. You don’t have to. Just… I miss your scent.”
My throat tightens. Scent gives so much away. A shifter can sniff out every emotion through scent alone. Letting someone know so much about me is something I’ve struggled with for years. It terrified me. Still does, a little.
But I trust Gunnar. Taking a breath, I exhale and lower my shields. Beside me, Gunnar breathes deeply and sighs softly. “There it is.”
A smile curls my mouth. “Smell good?”
A low, pleased rumble rolls around in his chest. “Like the sea.”
I wrinkle my nose. “So salty and a bit fishy?”
Gunnar rolls his eyes so far back in his head, it’s a wonder they don’t go tumbling down the road behind us. “No! Well, mayhap, aye. But in the best way. If I close my eyes…” He does so, smile widening as his nostrils flare. “It’s like I’m on my ship. Listening to the gulls cry. The horizon stretched out before me.”
He could be lying,whispers that little frightened voice.
But I know he isn’t. I’ve seen what the ocean means to him. How happy he is when he’s out at sea. “You really mean that,” I say, softer than I intend to. I’d known from the start we were fated to be together when my magic had reached for him. Still, it’s another thing to hear it from his own lips.
This is no lie, not this time.
We really are…
Giving my hand a slight tug, Gunnar takes me aside and presses my back against the brick wall of a shop beside us. A coffee shop, by the scent wafting out the door. His big calloused palm rasps over my cheek. A shiver runs down my spine and I lean into his touch before I can stop myself. I feel like a touch-starved little kitten.
“Do I need to show you just how sincere I really am? Here, now?” His breath warms my lips, making my eyes close and my breath catch.
I make myself smirk, trying to project confidence, when really, I want to beg him for more. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Later, little witch,” he murmurs, “I’ll show you just how sincere I truly am when I worship every perfect inch of your body. For now, though…” Warm lips seal over mine and I can’t help but whimper at how good it feels. Goddess, but this man can kiss. It’s toe-curling, all-consuming, yet so tender. I could kiss him for hours and still yearn for more.
“Keep this up,” I warn him, giving his bottom lip a nibble, “and everyone around us will see just how much I want you.”
He chuckles, eyes glinting with mischief. “And that would be a bad thing?”
Snorting, I shove his chest and lead the way back up the road. Once we reach the bakery, I knock on the door, and a woman with a sleek blonde ponytail welcomes us inside. “Come in, come in! Welcome.”
Cakes and cookies fill the displays, and although we ate not long ago, my stomach gurgles. Gunnar hums, eyes closed as he sniffs the air. “Can we get all of these?”
I elbow him. “No. Goddess! Think of the cavities—the damage the sugar will do to our teeth,” I add when he looks confused.
“I never said we’deatall of it.”
“I would!”
