Chapter 7 #2
Fuck, his soul did a full backflip and exploded into fireworks.
Double fuck, he swore he felt the same feeling coming from her.
And super fuck, that ugly thing he’d sensed when he’d reformed here dug its claws in deeper.
Fine.
He strolled up and leaned casually on the counter. “Miss Daphne. How are you on this fine day?”
“I’m doing pretty well, thanks for asking. Had a very satisfying Christmas. How about you?”
“Oh, you know,” he said, leaning in with a grin that was all smooth edges and dangerous undertones.
“I spent the holidays contemplating morality and whether it’s socially acceptable to seduce human librarians with devastating charm.
” He tapped the counter lightly. “And now here I am, trying very hard not to wonder how you’d feel about the closet area.
Or, do you have an office? Or, if you’re feeling adventurous, a bathroom? ”
She frowned, looked at the screen for a second. Then she licked her lips in a way that went straight to his cock–the cock that had sidetracked this entire convo because he was supposed to understand what was going on.
Daphne rose to her feet, leaned very close to him from the other side of the counter. Instinctively, he inched on so she could whisper in his ear. “Are you seriously proposing to fuck me in the library closet?”
“Or the bathroom. Or the office. I’m nothing if not flexible.”
The corner of her lip twisted up in something he might have called cruel, and it did nothing but further harden his dick.
“This is a public place,” she continued, low.
“There are families. Children. People come here for refuge, not only books.” She brushed her lips on the corner of his jaw.
“And if you ever again allude to doing anything that disrupts the sanctity and safety of this place, I’ll punch you in the throat. ”
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “That was so brutally hot, Daphne. I mean it.”
She gave him a quick peck on his mouth and dropped back into her chair, typing again like none of that had happened. “Also, the bathroom would be off-limits, anyway. Mirror broke. I’m writing the report.”
He blinked. “Someone broke it?”
“No. That’s the weird part. I was, you know, in there, and it just cracked. Loud as hell. Creeped me out a little bit. Now I have to file the paperwork, and nobody wants that during the holidays.”
He did not like that. Coincidence, maybe. Too bad he didn’t believe in those. He kept his voice casual. “Any other weirdness today?”
She tilted her head. “The lights are acting funny, too. Nothing huge, just... off. Like shadows bending the wrong way. I know it sounds nuts, but it made me think maybe something’s up with the neon.
I hope it’s not the walls, though that could explain both the lights and the mirror.
” She sighed. “I hope it’s not the library crumbling down.
It’s not the youngest building in town.”
Or it’s something else entirely, Hunter thought grimly. “What time do you close?”
“In about fifteen minutes.”
The door opened, letting in a gust of wind and an elderly woman wrapped in a scarf the size of a comforter. “Didn’t think I’d make it,” she said with a cheery huff.
Daphne brightened. “Hello, Mrs. Marshall. How was your Christmas?”
“Lovely, dear. Got to eat sweets with the grandkids. I’m just grabbing a few books to tide me over. Don’t want to be a bother.”
“You’re never a bother,” Daphne said warmly.
“You’re a sweetheart,” the older woman called, heading to the large print section.
Hunter leaned both elbows on the counter. “How come she can call you sweetheart and I can’t?”
“Because she’s elderly and sweet.”
Oh, please, he was so, so much older, but that consideration would take him to dangerous territory. “I’m not sweet?”
“Not like her. And besides, you call me sweetheart all the time even though I’ve told you not to, so...”
“I can stop. If it really pisses you off.”
She shrugged, but something in it was simply too careless. “Whatever.”
Hunter narrowed his eyes. “Wait a second.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “You like it.”
“Shut up.”
“I knew it. You like it when I call you sweetheart.”
“Shut. Up.” But she couldn’t quite suppress the smile playing on her lips. “Tell me if you’ve got plans for tonight instead of keeping up this bull.”
“I have plans, all right. There’s a place right before the canyon where the pizza is excellent.”
“The one by the brewery?”
“Yeah. Dinner there, then back to our place, and—”
“I’m all done!” Mrs. Marshall declared loudly, reappearing with a stack of books. She thunked them onto the counter and rummaged in her purse, probably searching for her library card. “You know, I dreamed about you last night.”
The hair on Hunter’s arms raised. A feeling, wrong and ugly, slithered fast in the room.
Mrs. Marshall’s hand stopped midair while she was giving Daphne the card.
Her eyes glazed over; her voice flattened.
“You were screaming. Screaming.” She sighed.
“Screaming.” Her shadow bent toward Daphne, nearly touching her.
Then, as fast as it started, the strange energy vanished.
Mrs. Marshall blinked, brightened again, and held out her library card. “Here you go, sweetheart.”
Daphne took it with a smile that had lost warmth, but her hands remained steady. That odd awareness of her touched him again–confused, worried, a little scared, but not terrified. This woman would walk through the fires of hell and only be mildly concerned about burning her feet.
Mrs. Marshall left with all the books safely tucked away in her tote. “I’ll see you in January for book club, sweetheart.”
The library door closed, and Daphne smacked her lips, clearing her voice. “That was weird, right? Whatever it is that happened.” She kept her eyes on the door and the night beyond. “Weird.”
“Yep. Sure was.” Hunter would have had so much to add to that, but the truth was, he had no clue. About anything at this point except wanting her safe. He needed to talk to Dorian ASAP. “Ready to go?”
“Yes, definitely.”
~*~
“Alright,” Daphne parked the car in her spot, turned it off, but didn’t open the door to leave. Instead, she turned toward him, her no-nonsense face in place. “What’s up, Hunter?”
He schooled his face into chill and ease. “Like, in life, or more specifically for right now? We just had a very nice dinner. I’m all good.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been off the entire night.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were, and if you don’t stop being dumb, I will headbutt your pretty nose.”
“You know, giving away the element of surprise is never a good idea.”
“What. Is. Up.”
He wiggled in the seat, cleared his voice. “I guess I’m tired.”
Her face didn’t change one bit. “You bragged about your stamina for two days straight.”
“Yeah, but that’s my boy down there.” He tapped his chest. “I can get tired.”
“Demons do not get tired. Try again.”
“Trouble at work?”
“I swear to God, Hunter.” There was enough menace in her voice that he winced.
Damn the woman. He’d been so careful throughout the dinner.
It wasn’t that he wanted to hide what was happening.
Exactly. He simply needed a moment to understand it, have a few words with Dorian to detangle this pull toward her and the consequent need to tell her the truth–which would also serve them well for this entire freak-show situation.
But no, she had to go and press for answers.
Fine.
“Look,” he started. “It really is something work-related.”
She stared at him, a brown eyebrow rising. “But?”
“But I can’t tell you more right now.”
“Convenient.”
He pushed to the seat, twisting to face her better. “No, it’s really fucking not, and I hate it. I have to speak to Dorian–”
“Who’s Dorian?”
“My boss, brother, another demon... he’s a bunch of things. I need to talk to him first, figure a couple of things out, then explain it all to you.”
She didn’t say anything. Her brown eyes remained trained on him, unreadable. He didn’t dare brush her mind–the way things were going, she would totally bust him. So he waited. “The jury is taking its sweet time,” he murmured when silence stretched.
“Okay.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But next time I see you, you will tell me everything. I’ve known there’s a lot you’re not telling me, and that will stop soon. Unless you want this to stop here and now.”
The same thing that twisted his heart at the thought of them being done echoed faintly in her voice, as if the thought was hurting her as much as him. Still.... “I don’t respond well to ultimatums.”
She shrugged, but it was tense. “Your problem, not mine. If we keep going, then I can’t have shady shit playing in the background.”
She was right. Of course she was. But all of a sudden, the entire thing, his whole existence, seemed like a lie so big that she would never accept it.
Maybe he could figure out how to sand a few corners–embellish some stuff here, cut some from there.
Just to make it more palatable. Then he would drop more details in due time until the picture was complete.
Yeah, that could work.
“I understand,” he said, nodding. “And I agree. Just let me figure it out myself. Then I’ll tell you everything.”
One beat passed where he didn’t breathe. Then she tipped her head in acknowledgment. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Breathing again felt very good. He smiled. “Thank you.” He brushed the back of his fingers on her cheek, glad to see her leaning into the touch. “Can I stay?’
She huffed a laugh away. “I guess.”
At that, he could only grin. “You do like me, sweetheart.”
She rolled her eyes and exited the car. But when he was walking at her side, she looked at him with her chin up. “What if I do?”
He took her hand and pulled her into his arms, kissed her nose. “Well, then, I’ll make it my existence’s purpose to never give you a reason to regret it.”
“You know your way around words, demon.”