Chapter 12 #2
Without warning, his teeth close around my clit — not enough to break skin, but enough to sting sharp and bright — and the pain and pleasure collide and detonate at the same time, traveling in a hot current from my center up through my chest.
“I’ll help you through your heat, little omega.” He presses a slow, open kiss against my entrance, his lips lingering.
I just stare at him, chest heaving, dress bunched at my waist.
“Do you hear me, Sasha?”
“Yes.”
He stiffens his tongue to a point and presses it against my greedy hole, working in tight, probing circles before pushing inside, fucking into me with slow, deep strokes.
The tension crests and snaps, and I come again, harder this time, a fresh wave of slick spilling over Sheriff Drakes lips and down his chin.
My legs shudder uncontrollably, thighs trembling against him. Gavin purrs. A deep, resonant rumble that vibrates up through his chest and into my skin wherever he touches me, and the sound pulls my muscles loose.
I whine as I lift my leg from his shoulder. I’m afraid my scent will rise. I snatch my panties from where he’d shoved them into his shirt pocket.
“I have to go,” I say, pulling them on, feeling the damp fabric settle against still-sensitive skin.
“I drove you to work.” He stands, rising to his full height in one smooth motion. His cock strains visibly against the front of his uniform pants, the fabric pulled taut, the outline thick and unmistakable.
“I’ll order a car service.”
“What’s going on, Sasha?”
I grab the front of his uniform shirt in both fists and pull him down to me, pressing my mouth to his. I taste myself on his lips.
“Alpha, I promise to take care of you next time.”
He curls his hands around my upper arms, grip firm but careful. “Stop pushing me away.”
Sea salt puffs into the air between us, sharp and sudden. A tear slips free and tracks down my cheek before I can stop it.
His hands go still. His nostrils flare. “Sea salt?”
I twist out of his grip, and he lets me go, fingers trailing from my arms. I don’t look back.
Grabbing my earbuds out of my purse, I push them into my ears and tap play on my playlist, just in case he tries to stop me using his alpha bark. I weave through the throng of people, getting far away from Gavin.
My scent suppressants are failing faster than ever before. What am I going to do?
The next morning, I return to the festival to work our booth. Gavin hasn’t arrived yet. He slept in his police SUV last night outside the camper. When I peeked out the window this morning, he was gone. He’s probably at home asleep.
I thought he’d push me to answer questions at some point last night.
But he didn’t. When I opened the camper door to leave this morning, there was a box.
I opened it. My fingers curled around one of Gavin’s t-shirts.
I brought it to my nose and inhaled. The calmness that washed over me made me ready for the day.
I took a double dose of scent suppressants and got moving.
I rushed the prescription refill. The scent suppressants should arrive today.
I snap out of the memory when I see Gavin chatting with a little boy he just handed an action figure to. They’re chatting about baseball, from the looks of it — both swinging imaginary bats. My heart squeezes in my chest and my fucking ovaries explode. He’s so good with him.
“Walker,” Saunders calls.
I turn to her, and a smile lifts my lips. “Coffee from Spout?”
“Yes, I got coffee for everyone,” she says.
“Thank you.” I smile.
“Sheriff, I’ve got your latte just the way Walker orders it,” Saunders jokes.
I laugh. “It will make him less grumpy.”
He shakes his head as he approaches. “If any of you mess up, it will take more than a good coffee to get back on my good side.”
“I didn’t know he had a good side,” I mutter.
Barb chuckles under her breath.
“Keep it up, Walker, and your planned half-day of work will turn into a full one.”
I want to call him an asshole, but I bite my tongue. My grumpy boss will make me work a full day.
“Enjoy the coffee, Sheriff,” I say.
He gives me a look that says I want to enjoy more than a fucking coffee.
Shit.
I break our stare and help the person in line.
Gavin doesn’t return to the booth until it’s time for me to get off work. He steps next to me and helps the next person in line.
I refuse to go into deep thought about the way he’s keeping his distance. Ultimately, I know I’m the one who drove a wedge between us. And I’m aware I can’t hide my scent from him much longer.
I saunter through the festival, taking in the townspeople and tourists enjoying this wonderful event. My eyes land on the sign above the tent entrance: Enchanted Visions.
I step inside. Ms. Gloria is with a client.
Slowly, I take in some of the goodies she sells in her shop — bundles of dried lavender and sage hanging from the tent poles, jars of things I don’t have names for lining a back shelf, candlelight flickering even in the middle of the afternoon, though there’s no draft to explain the flicker.
I see two women chatting about the Tarot cards, and I smile.
“Sasha?” Ms. Gloria calls.
I guess she’s finished with the customer. “Hello.” I grin.
“How’s it going, hiding from your mate?” she asks with a knowing look.
I glance around the shop, then meet her gaze. “I asked you not to mention that.”
“Have a seat, Sasha. It’s time for you to know who you are.”
I have a little time to kill, so I sit and listen.
“You come from a long line of witches. Your mother’s a witch, and all the women before her are too.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“You live in a non-shifter town. They also don’t allow magic. We’re free to be who we are in Lupton.”
Makes me wonder if other people are hiding their true identities, too.
“I’ll teach you how to use potions and the magic in your hands over time. But today we’ll start with the basics.”
“I think I’ve noticed the magic in my hands on a couple of occasions. Most notably around the women the sheriff has been with.”
“Your omega is very territorial when it comes to her fated mate. I’m surprised you didn’t injure any of them.”
“If I hadn’t held my hand down, I would’ve.”
“Violet,” she calls out.
The woman with honey-brown skin turns and smiles. “Yes?”
“Put the closed sign up and go take your lunch.”
She waves goodbye.
“Let’s get to work.”
Ms. Gloria lines four cans on a table along the back of the tent. The candlelight seems to lean toward her hands as she moves, like it’s paying attention.
“Hold your hands in front of you and we’ll say the spell together.”
I nod and focus on the cans.
“Taysay Meireoria. Taysay Meireoria,” we chant.
“Means to bring great pain,” she adds.
Thinking about the women with Gavin, a tingling sensation drives down my arms into my hands, and it feels like sparks of electricity move through my fingers, hot and cold at once, gathering at my fingertips like static before a storm.
White and black lines shoot out from my fingertips, zapping two of the cans. They drop to the floor, smoking faintly, little scorched dents punched clean through the metal.
“Goddess, I did that?” I ask, eyes wide.
The same sparks leave her fingers, zapping the cans. “Yes, you did that.”
“I can’t believe I’m a witch.”
It’s a lot to take in.
“Can I tell my mother that I know?”
“Because magic is forbidden in Charleston, I’d say she already knows better than to talk about it out loud. But yes — tell her you know who you really are now.”
It made me wonder. Is my sister a witch too? She has to be.
After my session with Ms. Gloria, I feel like I’m seeing the townspeople for the first time.
I peek at the man running the basketball hoop game.
Two big beaver teeth flash into his mouth, then vanish just as fast, gone before I can be sure I saw them at all.
He catches me staring, smiles wide enough that I almost catch a second glimpse, and gives me a slow, knowing wink before turning back to his line of customers like nothing happened at all.
Wow, I guess he could sense my power. Will Gavin notice it too?
Standing back, I watch a guy try to win a big teddy bear for his girlfriend.
“Yesterday evening I entered the house of mirrors,” the woman beside me says to her friend. “I heard a woman moan, ‘Sheriff, your tongue is wicked good,’” she whispers, giggling behind her hand.
“Did you see who it was?”
“I caught a glimpse of her side profile.”
My eyes widen and I’m instantly embarrassed. I duck my head and move quickly to the next gaming booth.
“Sasha?”
I turn to the familiar voice. “Jenny,” I squeal.
I’m trying to do what the sheriff said — carry on the way I had previously, so I don’t make her nervous or suspicious.
My arms curl around her neck briefly, then I step back. “I hope you’re ready to eat, because I’m starving.”
And just like that, the woman who saw me exit the house of mirrors points in my direction. She and her friend laugh.
Looping my arm around Jenny’s, I lead her away from the games. “I understand this festival is an annual event. What’s your favorite food here?”
She looks around, trying to decide.
In the back of my mind, I want to zap her ass where she stands — the same electric tingle from Gloria’s tent stirring faint in my fingertips. Did she really spend summers here? Why lie about that?
“There’s the turkey drumstick booth, and I really enjoy the rotor ride—you know, the one where you’re pinned against the wall and the floor slips away.”
“I know that one,” I say brightly.
She smiles. “I always liked strolling around holding that giant drumstick,” she laughs softly, as if reminiscing.
Smooth move. Her subtle scent of rose, honey, and lemon stayed sweet, never souring to betray her lie.
“You can ride the rotor solo. I was never crazy about it.”
We both chuckle.
Ten minutes later, Jenny devours the turkey drumstick while I enjoy my corn dog.
“Sasha,” my sister calls, waving. Tara texted me a few minutes ago to say they had arrived.