Chapter 5
Present Day
The answer is yes. There is nothing in the world I want to do more than go with Esme to her favorite place in the world.
Wherever that is.
She directs me to take a shower and meet her outside of Wolf Trust Bank, which—surprise—is owned and run by the local werewolf pack.
After speeding through my wash and barely bothering with a towel, I’m clean, out the door, and jogging down Main Street. There’s a constant fear festering in my chest that Esme will disappear if she’s out of my sight for too long.
But there she is, standing on the sidewalk as she piles her sunlight curls in a messy bun on the top of her head.
Luckily, I’m in good shape, so I’m not panting when I arrive at her side.
Reaching up, I make sure my glasses are in place, sitting securely on my nose and camouflaging the glow of longing in my eyes.
“That was fast. I bet you didn’t take the time to properly condition your hair. That is going to puff up in the humidity, just you watch.” She playfully tugs on one of the damp strands hanging low, leaving wet spots on my shirt.
I wish she’d fist her hand in the mass and use the hold to drag me to her. But Esme lets go and waves for me to follow.
When we were younger, she teased me about my hair all the time.
How I drove an hour and a half to Athens to get it trimmed at an expensive barber.
How I used more products than she did to arrange the brown strands in a sleek style.
I remember staring at myself in the mirror every morning, going through my hair routine, grinning at the thought of how she’d try to mess the whole thing up the first moment she saw me.
How I’d pretend to be exasperated but secretly always liked the style better once her hands dug into it.
The care I put into my appearance is distant to me now. All the money and effort. If that’s what Esme wants from a mate, I’ll do it again, but after so many years in the wild, the ability to brush my teeth and shower seems like a luxury.
Besides, this lack of grooming keeps me unrecognizable for now. Or at least, I can tell myself that instead of admitting Esme has probably forgotten me.
“Okay, so this is not my favorite place. Not to say it’s not good, but it’s just a stop on the way,” she says before pulling open a door and ushering me inside a shop with a warm atmosphere and the scent of coffee beans.
“Coffee & Claws is pretty cool. Also, I’m one of those horribly unhealthy evening espresso drinkers, and I’m jonesing for my fix. ”
Then, something amazing happens. Esme hooks her arm through mine, guiding me toward the counter.
Every part of my body lights up, fueled by an internal sun that blazes bright for her. My muscles want to curl around Esme until I encase her with my body. The hot-flower scent gets me drunk, and I never want to sober up.
“Lee?” Her voice drags me from my happiness haze.
“Sorry. What?” My question sounds harsh, but there’s no changing that. Not after that red dragon tore out half my throat when I was still in my mortal shape.
I don’t think I was supposed to kill him once I released my beast, but no one had taken the time to explain anything to me before shoving me into that battle pit.
So, I took his head. And I’ll never forget the life that faded from his glowing eyes. The scar on my throat will always act as the reminder that I’m not innocent.
“I asked if you wanted anything. Doesn’t have to be coffee. They’ve got lots of good stuff here. Oh, and this is Sonya.” Esme waves toward the tall Latina behind the counter. “She’s one of the co-owners. And”—she lowers her voice in the event there are any humans around—“she’s a siren.”
“What can I get you?” Sonya asks, friendly smile in place with a set of shrewd eyes taking me in.
Xavier claims I look intimidating with my wild hair and I’ve seen shit aura. “Nothing.” I try to gentle my voice, but it still comes out as a rasp.
“Uh, yeah, nonsense. I’m getting you something.” Esme squeezes my arm, unaware that she’s all I need in the world. “Any bear claws left?”
When we exit the shop, Esme has me hold her drink and the pastry as she fishes out her car keys.
“Sorry, I forgot to say we need to drive to get to my favorite place. Is that okay?”
She doesn’t know I stowed away in the dank hulls of multiple ships for days just to get back to her. A short car ride with her at my side is pure pleasure in comparison.
“Yeah.”
Esme likes to sing as she drives. I don’t recognize the songs on the top hits radio station, but she makes every one beautiful with her joyful harmonies.
Her old car doesn’t have cupholders, so she asks me to hang on to her latte, accepting it for quick sips at stoplights.
I stir up my internal forge enough to heat my palms and keep her cup warm.
I could stay here, riding beside her, for days. But eventually, we pull into a parking lot.
“Welcome to Bed, Bath, and Bargains!” Esme parks and wiggles her fingers toward the front of the store. The place she claims sends her endless coupons.
“Your favorite?”
“Yes. I spend way too much money here. Well, other people probably think it’s too much. I think it’s the exact right amount. Come on. Let’s find some things for your apartment. My bet is, you’re still functioning with the bare bones.”
She’s right that I haven’t added much, but anything after the crude dwellings of the colony is the high life.
“Here. Snack first. Get a good sugar high going.” Esme reaches into the bag I forgot about and pulls out the pastry, drizzled with frosting and sprinkled with sliced almonds.
She splits it down the middle. “Half for me. Half for you.” After passing the larger piece to me, Esme takes an impressive bite of hers.
“You know”—she speaks with a full mouth, as if she were running out of time—“dis wast—”
The harpy did the same thing in high school, and I’d always cover her mouth and say, “Bite, chew, swallow, speak.”
“After that?” she’d mumble against my hand, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Make out with me,” I’d growl.
Then, she’d smile and chew really slow just to drive me wild.
The memory has my chest clenching with longing, and I have to do something.
I set my hand on hers, stopping the harpy mid-sentence. “Chew. Don’t choke,” I chide her.
Her nose wrinkles with a puffed-cheek smile, but she listens, swallowing before going on.
“I was saying, this was made by a bear shifter. The other owner of Coffee & Claws. He’s kind of a grump, but a nice grump, you know?
Anyway, I think you’re going to like it in Folk Haven.
At least, I hope you do.” Then, her eyes drop pointedly to the untouched pastry in my hand.
I eat the bear claw in more respectable-sized bites, enjoying the treat. “Good,” I tell her, and Esme beams.
Beautiful.
As we enter the store, she bounces on the balls of her feet, pushing a cart in front of her. Within the first aisle, she flits off, and I’m able to claim cart duty, following behind as the harpy adds random items to her haul.
A table lamp.
An orange omelet pan.
A fluffy bath mat.
My attention catches on a wall full of pillows. They’re all stuffed to bursting and look so soft. I pick up one with a purple checkered pattern and cautiously press the cushion against my chest, not sure why I’m so wary of the object.
Maybe I just don’t trust soft things anymore.
“Those are on sale! Let’s get four.” Esme tosses the matching pillows into the cart, and I like seeing them there. Knowing they’re coming home with me.
“Towels next. I always leave them for last because they’re my favorite.
” She strolls into a section with towels in every color a person could hope for.
“I just really love terry cloth. There’s something about it, especially the plush stuff.
” Her fingers stroke the stacks, coming to land on a royal-blue set.
“I want to drape myself in terry cloth. And, yes”—she grins over her shoulder at me—“I know I have a problem.”
My fingers automatically check that my glasses are still on my face, blocking the telltale glow of strong emotion. All I can think about is her stepping out of a shower, dripping wet, slowly blotting away the droplets with one of her precious towels.
I wish I were made of terry cloth.