CHAPTER ELEVEN
Skye
As soon as I get a chance, I jump on the Witch Bitch Spicy Book Club chat. I tell them all about how hard it was to complete the in-book dance lesson and finish with: Help! We need real-world dance lessons, and there’s no dance studio in Ferndale Falls.
I say you two need to start Operation Dance, Autumn types, and watch all the best dance movies.
Start with Dirty Dancing, Hannah says.
First one on my list, I reply. The author says it was the inspo for the book, and the couple is going to do the movie’s final dance for the competition.
Several of the others chime in with movies to stream, then Kayla types: I have a spare Wii I can loan you and several versions of the Just Dance video game. Those are the ones where it scans you to make sure you’re doing the moves correctly.
That would be incredible! I reply, adding several heart emojis. Thanks!
I whip up a quick dinner of spaghetti and garlic bread with Luke’s help, and we carry the food into the sitting room.
My heavy stoneware plate feels solid in my hands, and I give Luke what must be the serving platter of the set, its extended width able to hold dragon-sized portions.
We haven’t spent any time in here, so I’m struck all over again by how much effort he put into making this room comfortable for me.
I sink into the soft cushions of the couch facing the TV, and Luke settles beside me, arranging his wings so he doesn’t sit on them.
“I don’t see why we’re doing this,” he grumps the second I turn on the TV. “It can’t be normal to watch moving pictures while you eat.”
“He’s so wrong,” Princess Buttercup says, leaping onto the arm of the sofa beside me. “We watch TV every night while you eat dinner, and I get snacks. And we’re both amazing.”
I muffle my giggle behind my hand, but Luke catches me at it, demanding, “What did she say?”
“Nothing!” I sing out, unable to fight down my grin.
His eyes narrow. “I wonder if I could devise a translation crystal that would work on cats.”
“Yes!” Princess Buttercup runs across the back of the couch. Resting her paws on the top edge of his wing, she strains forward to strop the side of his head with her cheek. “Everyone would hear how wonderful I am then!”
He turns his head to cock an inquisitive eyebrow at me and gets a headbutt to the cheekbone for his troubles.
My cat starts to purr loudly, her little eyes closed to pleased slits of feline contentment.
Luke’s face goes soft, his hand lifting to pet her back.
His claws dig in a little bit, and the scratch feels so good that Princess Buttercup gives a wiggle of ecstasy and scootches forward to sit on his shoulder, his wing cupping her back to keep her from sliding off.
I pull out my phone and snap a couple of quick pics, unable to resist the cuteness. “Princess Buttercup likes the idea.”
He grunts, but he also keeps petting her and shifts his wing every time she moves to keep her secure, the big softy.
“This is the movie that inspired the dance scenes in the book, so studying the dance they do at the end will help us.” I start Dirty Dancing so we can watch while we eat.
I get swept up in the story of Baby falling in love with the hot dance instructor and have to constantly remind myself to pay attention to the choreography instead of focusing on the emotions.
When we reach the scene where they practice the overhead lift in the lake, Luke has me stop and rewind so he can watch it a few times. “Why are they doing this in a lake?”
“So when they mess up, they fall into water instead of hitting hard ground.”
He grunts again, this time his thinking grunt. I’m getting good at telling them apart.
Even with that massive platter of spaghetti, he finishes first. I munch my way through my last few bites of garlic bread—I always save a piece for last—and slip into the kitchen to grab cookies-and-cream ice cream for dessert.
Luke stares at his bowl suspiciously, but the moment the spoon passes his lips, he makes that little surprised noise of pleasure I already love.
That noise does things to me, setting off fireworks inside and lighting me up.
“I want some.” Princess Buttercup perks up from where she’s taken up residence on Luke’s lap, the little traitor, getting all the warm weredragon snuggles for herself.
“Why do you like ice cream?” I’ve always wondered why she always begs for it. “Cats can’t taste sugar.”
“It’s so creamy.” Her paw lashes out, trying to snag his spoon, but dragon reflexes are faster than human, and he keeps it out of her reach.
“Can she have this?” he asks me.
“She can have a little, but not any of the chocolate. It’s dangerous for cats.”
He spoons up a small bite of vanilla without any cookie bits and dabs it on the middle of his palm, holding it out to her like her own personal plate.
My cat’s loud purr rumbles through the room, bouncing off the stone walls as she licks up the treat.
“Do you want me to get you a washcloth?” I ask, not knowing his tolerance for kitty spit.
“Not an issue.” He holds his hand in front of his face, and a whoosh of fire shoots out of his mouth.
Even though the flames don’t come near her, Princess Buttercup leaps away with a hiss. “No!”
I jolt and make a strangled squeal of surprise that doesn’t resemble any word in any language ever.
Flames splash over his skin for a few seconds before fading to leave behind an unblemished hand. “See? Perfectly sanitized.”
“What? How? What?” My eyes feel wide as saucers, and I’ve lost my ability to form full sentences, but fudging fudge! He shot fire out of his mouth and purposefully roasted his hand like it was nothing! How’s a girl supposed to react? “You’re not burned!”
“Dragons are impervious to fire,” he says with complete nonchalance, but a tiny smile curves the left corner of his mouth as I continue to stare at him in awe.
It’s one thing to hear that dragons are magically powerful. It’s a whole other thing to see it, to know on a visceral level that he can shoot fire. My thighs clench, and I try to slow my breathing, wondering if he can tell how turned on I am.
I restart the movie, and after several minutes, my cat crawls onto my lap for snuggles, having decided, I suppose, that even if I’m not as warm as Luke, my inability to set things on fire is a plus.
Her purrs fade as she falls deep asleep, melting in relaxation until it feels like she weighs far more than her nine pounds. I love how much it shows she trusts me.
We watch the rest of the movie without any other surprises. A pleased sigh escapes me when Baby and Johnny finish their climactic dance with a successful overhead lift, confirming their love for all to see.
“So the dancing wasn’t only for the competition,” Luke says.
“Yeah, in the end, the competition wasn’t the point. Dancing with Johnny in front of her parents and all the other rich people was her way to show she loved him.”
His golden eyes spear into mine. “And what extra meaning will dancing have in this book you’ve trapped us in?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, the movement jerky and awkward. “Maybe nothing.”
It’s a lie. I might not have read this book, but I’ve read hundreds of romances. The dancing will totally mean something romantic.
I have to hope that if we don’t break the spell in time, Luke doesn’t hate me for whatever the book will force us to do.
We spend the next morning researching, and although we don’t find anything to help with the spell, there’s still a surprise.
Tiny green shoots have appeared throughout the stacks, little hints of plant life, as if the wooden bookcases are still live trees, and the library is budding for spring.
Luke’s sharp eyes linger over every single one, his gaze pulling my attention to them. A tiny smile curls the left side of his mouth.
“What are these?” I brush the tip of my finger over an unfurling leaf.
“Toys?” Princess Buttercup leaps to her feet, her voice full of hope as she bats at the closest one. “Toys for me?”
“No,” Luke and I say in unison.
Her tail jerks back and forth, her eyes narrowing.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I wag a finger, knowing the movement means she’s about to do what she wants, damn the consequences. “You don’t get to pretend like you don’t understand me anymore. And Luke’s going to tell us exactly why you can’t hurt the plants.”
“Wasn’t going to hurt them.” She plonks her butt on the ground, sounding sulky.
“These are a sign that the library is finally recovering,” Luke says. “Its magic is now restored enough for it to come to life.”
“As in literally?”
He nods. “Fae libraries are living things, sharing our connection to nature and the realms we live in.”
I snap my fingers and point at him. “Like the wisteria in the reading room.”
“Exactly.” He looks at my familiar. “These aren’t merely plants—they’re an extension of the library. So if you need something to play with…” He twitches the end of his tail, sliding it back and forth so it scrapes across the floor with a faint scratching noise.
Princess Buttercup’s ears swivel forward, her pupils dilating to huge pools of black. Her hips lift, and she shifts from one back foot to the other several times. With a pounce, she leaps for his tail, which he slides out of the way at the last second.
He takes off running down the aisle, his tail dragging along the floor, weaving back and forth like a snake.
She gives chase.