Chapter Nineteen #2
Aidan offered his arm, and Sorcha wrapped her fingers around it, the muscles hard and warm under her palm. They turned away as one. A gentleman and his lady.
A wolf and the Red Cloak.
“Your lordship, if I may?”
Aidan paused, blinking as if he had already forgotten about poor old Barnabus. “Yes? What is it?”
“Perhaps I can be of service,” the proprietor said quietly, glancing around to make sure the little girl eating her strawberry tart was out of earshot with her father.
The little girl in question roared so loudly at her treat that there was no mistaking exactly where she stood.
The tart made a clacking sound, like teeth chomping together.
Her peal of laughter was infectious—and safely far away on the other side of the exhibits.
Barnabus relaxed. “I don’t usually do this, of course. But as it’s a special occasion…”
“Of course,” Aidan allowed. “You have a wolf’s tooth? We would need something old and powerful. The Bisclavret line, if the Anthus is not possible.”
Not even the University could afford the Bisclavret tooth, even if it wasn’t even now in Freya’s possession. Lord Winterwell was fuming over its disappearance but could not do so publicly and risk exposing that it had been stolen while under his care.
Barnabus shook his head. “I’m afraid not, my lord. But we do have this lovely incisor.”
There was still blood on the root. Wolf catchers claimed wolf blood made magic stronger. Aidan tensed. Sorcha made ready to launch herself over the counter to beat Barnabus about the head.
Aidan’s voice was very even when he said, “This is a puppy tooth,” partly for her benefit, she was sure. “Anybody might find these scattered on the ground. Not nearly good enough.”
“This tooth is from a mummified cat from Egypt. It’s several thousand years old.”
“That’s not suitable for my spell,” Sorcha said. “Pity.”
Aidan sighed, also disappointed.
“I have a tooth that belonged to Queen Elizabeth’s werewolf lover.”
“I suppose if it’s all you have…” Aidan said.
Barnabus nodded and ducked between two cabinets. As he rummaged through a trunk, Aidan waited, patient as always. Sorcha wanted to shove her way through the mess and find the damn tooth herself. She tapped her foot. Aidan caught her eye. Her foot stilled. One glance and her body responded.
That was annoying, actually.
“Here we are,” Barnabus returned, carrying a red velvet pouch. He withdrew a tooth capped in silver, with a pearl and garnet accent.
“Lovely,” Aidan approved.
Sorcha clapped her hands and felt like an idiot. Aidan’s mouth twitched. “It’s perfect. So dreadfully macabre.” She widened her eyes. “Is it truly as powerful as they say?”
Barnabus nodded vigorously. “It will bring you sons, your ladyship. Fine, strong sons.”
It was surprisingly difficult not to point out that that was not how fertility magic worked.
“We’ll take it,” Aidan said. “And how about those three”—he nodded to three more teeth in a display case behind Barnabus—“as gifts.”
“Perfect!” Sorcha had no idea about the theme of this fictional betrothal party, but it was sounding grislier and grislier.
Aidan paid for the purchases and Sorcha took the opportunity to swipe the puppy tooth and drop it in her pocket.
“Why take the puppy tooth?” Aidan asked as they made their way back outside.
She lifted her chin. “I just didn’t want him to have it.”
Aidan nodded, still looking innocent and serious. “The tooth we haggled over?”
“Yes?”
“Worthless.”
She deflated. “I guessed as much.”
“Yes, but those three I added at the last minute?”
“Yes?”
“One of those is the Ossory tooth.” Satisfaction rolled off him.
She knew now how he must look when hunting magical artifacts: the silent patience of a predator, the sharp cleverness of a scholar.
And the thread of restrained joy that was pure Aidan.
He lifted her up in his arms and twirled her around once.
A laugh burst out of her. “Do you know how long we’ve been searching for this?
None of us would ever have considered a museum of teeth. ”
“You were very nonchalant.” Sorcha grinned at him. “Disdainfully bored, even. I had no idea wolves were so dramatic.”
They returned to the Wolf Wood to leave the Ossory tooth under Freya’s keeping.
Sorcha marveled once more at how comfortable she felt with wolf pups racing around, the snap of cooking fires, the smell of bread wafting through the camp.
As well as the gathering of Lycan in a far clearing, with most of the men bare-chested as the sun set, gilding the light.
A wolf paced out of the trees to join them and shifted into a man.
Naked. Very naked. He was utterly at ease, ridges of muscles and strong thighs on display.
Not to mention everything in between. “Songbird,” Aidan said evenly at her shoulder.
Sorcha jumped, caught ogling. Knowing he could hear her heartbeat and sense the warmth of the flush moving up her chest and neck, she opted for a cheeky grin. He only shook his head. “What are they doing?” she asked.
“Showing off,” he remarked, drily. “They know perfectly well when they’ve got a captive audience.”
Lorcan and two other Lycan were having a footrace at the edge of the woods, snaking between the trees, shouting insults at each other. They were fast, agile.
“The test is to run through the forest without snagging your hair or clothing on a branch,” Aidan explained. “Or stepping on a twig.”
Some were wrestling, some competing as to who had the best aim with a dagger. The taunts were vicious but good-natured, and obviously expected. Barely even noticed. It was boisterous, lively.
“As the moon gets fuller, it’s important to syphon off some of the building energy, some of the power,” Aidan added.
Lorcan burst onto the grass, in the lead. He tossed his hair, dripping sweat. “I can think of a better way to do that.” He winked at Sorcha.
“Careful, Lorcan,” Aidan said, a quiet, easy warning. There was no posturing, no threat—only the confidence of a man who had every intention of backing up his warning. As well as the abilities. Sorcha had a feeling he wouldn’t even have to run, would only stalk with that piercing patience.
She was wondering why that made her feel so warm and shivery when the paper bird drifted down from the treetops, circling as it searched for her.
“Smells like wolf blood,” someone growled.
“Take it down,” Lorcan snapped.
“Don’t!” Sorcha lunged forward. “Aidan!”
“Get the hell out of her way.”