Chapter 2
TWO
T he man who entered moved like contained lightning, all coiled grace and barely restrained power. His tailored charcoal suit probably cost more than her monthly rent, but it did nothing to hide the powerful build beneath. Blonde hair caught the morning light like polished gold, and his striking features belonged on a magazine cover—if magazine covers featured models who radiated enough untamed magic to make her teeth ache.
“Sweet mother of magic,” Halle breathed, suddenly materializing beside Clover. “That’s not a man, that’s a masterpiece. Look at those shoulders. That jaw. He’s totally your type—tall, gorgeous, and radiating enough power to short-circuit half the town.”
“Shh!” Clover elbowed her assistant, but her pulse betrayed her, quickening as those remarkable hazel eyes met hers. Flecks of gold and green swirled in their depths, and for a moment, she swore she glimpsed something wild and ancient gazing back at her. Something that made her inner magic sit up and purr like a contented cat.
Down, girl. Way down.
She broke eye contact first, focusing on straightening the already-perfect candle labels. Her mother’s voice echoed in her memory: Power recognizes power, dear one. But not all who carry it know how to use it wisely.
“Good morning,” The stranger’s deep voice rolled through the shop like distant thunder. “I’m looking for?—”
The shop bell chimed again, and Romi, her cousin, burst in with her usual whirlwind energy, Xabir, her fiancé, close behind. “Clover! You’ll never guess what?—”
“Rook Katz, you sneaky tiger! When did you get back to town?” Xabir asked.
The stranger—Rook—turned, his serious expression warming. “I should have known I’d run into you eventually. Small town.”
“Getting smaller by the minute.” Xabir stepped forward to clasp Rook’s hand. “Good to see you, man. Heard about the pride situation. Congratulations on the alpha position—knowing you, they probably had to fight you to take it.”
Clover’s eyes widened slightly. Alpha? The infamous Rook Katz, the prodigal son who returned to lead the Western Mountain Pride, was standing in her shop? She’d heard whispers about his return to Mystic Hollow, but nobody had mentioned...
“You know,” Halle whispered, “your type also includes powerful authority figures. He’s got that big, bad corporate energy.”
“Stop it,” Clover hissed back. “Who isn’t impressed by powerful figures?”
“Mh-mmm. And what’s your excuse now? Because Mr. Tall, Dark, and Alpha over there hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he walked in.”
Heat crept up Clover’s neck. She risked a glance at Rook, only to find those intense eyes already on her. The weight of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way his presence filled every corner of her carefully ordered shop.
“Oh ho!” Romi’s delighted voice made Clover jump. Her cousin had materialized beside her, eyes sparkling with mischief. Ever since she’d gotten engaged to Xabir, Romi’s life purpose seemed to be getting Clover a man. “I know that look. That’s your ‘interested but pretending not to be’ face.”
“I don’t have an ‘interested but pretending not to be’ face.”
“Please.” Romi rolled her eyes. “I’ve known you since we were in diapers. You’ve got more faces than a shapeshifter convention, and that one?” She nodded toward Rook. “That’s definitely interest.”
“With a side of ‘please pin me against a wall,’“ Halle added.
“Would you both shut it before he hears you,” Clover muttered, heat flooding her cheeks.
The universe, apparently deciding she wasn’t mortified enough, chose that moment for Rook to approach their little group. He moved with that liquid grace that seemed impossible for someone his size, and Clover’s magic fizzed beneath her skin like champagne bubbles.
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he said, his voice pitched low enough to send another shiver through her. “I’m Rook Katz.”
“Clover Weaver.” She managed to keep her voice steady, thanks to years of practice dealing with magical chaos. “Welcome to Spellbound Lights.”
“Clover owns this candle shop and Weaver’s Botanicals. She’s the best herbalist and magical candlemaker in town,” Romi chimed in, ignoring her cousin’s warning look. “You should see what she can do with enchanted wax. Actually, you know what would be perfect? A double date! You two could join Xabir and me for dinner, and?—”
“Romi.” Clover’s voice carried an edge of desperation.
“What? I’m just saying, you’re both single, both gorgeous, both powerful?—”
“Honey,” Xabir said with an apologetic grin. “I don’t think?—”
“Their kids would be so cute,” Romi added. “Just imagi?—”
Whatever matchmaking scheme Romi had brewing was interrupted by disaster. Rook, obviously flustered by Romi’s suggestions, took a step back and bumped the carefully constructed pyramid of Mood Match candles. Time seemed to slow as dozens of enchanted candles cascaded across the floor in a symphony of chaos.
Magic exploded through the shop. A shy woman browsing romance novels burst into passionate opera, her voice hitting notes that shouldn’t have been humanly possible. The elderly couple by the window clutched their purchases and began waltzing, their feet barely touching the ground. And poor Halle, standing too close to a Weather Whimsy candle, found herself beneath a localized rain cloud that left her spluttering and giggling.
“By the stars.” Clover clapped her hands together, gathering her magic. The green light of her power shimmered beneath her skin as she stretched out her arms. Her mother’s containment spell rose to her lips naturally, the words flowing like water as she worked to restore order.
“I sense a story here,” Romi said, watching the chaos with undisguised glee. “Please tell me there’s a story.”
“Not now, Romi.” The opera ceased mid-aria. The rain cloud dissipated with a final dramatic sprinkle. Enchanted candles floated back to their proper places, though the pyramid would need complete rebuilding.
“That was amazing!” Halle wrung out her shirt, grinning like a kid at a carnival. “Can we make rain candles a regular thing?”
“No.” Clover turned to face Rook, who had the grace to look sheepish. Up close, he towered over her, but she planted her hands on her hips anyway. “Do you always leave destruction in your wake, or is this a special occasion?”
His apologetic smile shouldn’t have been charming. It definitely shouldn’t have made her stomach flip like she’d swallowed a handful of Butterfly Joy candle shavings. “Sorry about that. I’m usually better at, uh, not breaking things.”
“Oh, this is precious,” Romi stage-whispered to Xabir. “Look at them - he’s completely flustered. When’s the last time you saw big, bad Rook Katz flustered?”
“College graduation,” Xabir replied thoughtfully. “That speech where he?—”
“Focus, people!” Clover clapped her hands again, sending a shower of green sparks through the air. “We have paying customers who are very confused about why they suddenly know all the words to ‘The Marriage of Figaro.’“
“You know,” Halle piped up, handing Rook a towel for the residual raindrops, “Clover makes amazing custom scents. You should ask her to make one for you. Something tiger-y and alpha-ish.”
“Halle!” Heat crept up Clover’s neck as she glared at her assistant, who just shrugged with calculated innocence.
“Actually,” Rook said, his voice dropping to that rumble that did inappropriate things to Clover’s pulse, “I came looking for something for my grandmother. Ilaria mentioned your shop specifically.”
“Did she now?” Romi’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Interesting. Very interesting. You know, Ilaria’s been asking about you lately, Clover. All sorts of questions about your magical abilities, your business acumen, your relationship status?—”