Page 19 of His Lucky Charm

We lapsed into comfortable silence, my mind processing everything I’d learned. Finally, I voiced the question that had been forming since our conversation began.

“What happens now? With us, I mean.”

Rafferty’s arms tightened around me. “That depends on what you want, Eliot. I know what I want—you, here, with me. But I understand this is a lot to take in. If you need time—”

“I don’t,” I interrupted, surprising myself with the certainty. “Need time, that is. This is all… unprecedented, yes. Challenging to my worldview, absolutely. But you…” I turned in his arms to face him. “You feel right. In a way I can’t explain with research or rational thought.”

The smile that spread across his face was brighter than the full moon had been. “Are you saying your feelings don’t care about your facts, Professor?”

I rolled my eyes at the teasing, even as I smiled back. “I’m saying some things transcend rational explanation. You’re one of them.”

“That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.” He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to my lips. “So you’ll stay? In Cloverton?”

The question should have given me pause. I had a life back in the city—a teaching position, colleagues, a neat apartment filled with books. But suddenly all of that seemed pale and insubstantial compared to what I’d found here.

“Yes,” I said, the decision feeling right as soon as the word left my mouth. “I’ll stay. Though I’ll need to figure out some things—my job, my apartment…”

“We’ll sort it out.” His confidence was reassuring. “The university in Burlington is always looking for visiting lecturers. And as for living arrangements…” He gestured to the bedroom around us. “This place is half-empty without you in it.”

The casual offer of cohabitation should have terrified me. Instead, I found myself nodding. “Your place does have better water pressure than my hotel.”

“High praise indeed.” His smile turned sly. “And think of all the research opportunities. Living with a supernatural creature. The observational data alone—”

I silenced him with a kiss, which quickly deepened into something more heated. When we finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, I rested my forehead against his.

“There is one thing I need to know,” I said seriously. “One question that’s been bothering me since last night.”

Rafferty tensed slightly. “Ask.”

“When you’re in wolf form…” I paused for dramatic effect. “Do you still hate the mailman?”

His startled laugh filled the bedroom. “You utter bastard. I thought you were going to ask something serious!”

“It is serious! Your vendetta against the postal service is concerning.”

“He comes to my territory every day smelling like every other house he’s visited,” Rafferty grumbled, the complaint somehow both ridiculous and endearing coming from this powerful supernatural being. “It’s provocative.”

“Mmm, sounds like a you problem.” I pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Maybe we should get a P.O. box.”

“We,” he repeated, expression softening. “I like the sound of that.”

“So do I,” I admitted, settling against his chest. “Though fair warning—I will absolutely be taking detailed notes on your transformation process at the next full moon. For science.”

His answering growl was playful as he rolled us over, pinning me beneath him once more. “For science, hm? Well then, Professor, let me give you something else to document.”

And as his mouth descended on mine, I mentally revised the title of my book from “Debunking the Guardians of the Green” to something altogether more accurate: “How I Fell in Love with a Werewolf and Learned to Stop Worrying About Rational Explanations.”

Some truths, it turned out, were better experienced than analyzed.

Chapter 10

The next full moon arrived faster than I expected. One moment I was still adjusting to the revelation that my boyfriend was a werewolf (Guardian, he kept correcting me, with increasing exasperation), and the next I was preparing to witness my first complete transformation.

“Are you sure about this?” Rafferty asked for the third time, pacing our bedroom with barely contained energy. The moon would rise in less than an hour, and he was already feeling its pull—eyes occasionally flashing gold, movements more fluid and predatory than usual.

“Absolutely,” I confirmed, checking my notebook and pen for the fourth time. “This is a unique opportunity for documentation.”

“It’s not exactly… pretty,” he warned. “The change. It looks painful.”