Chapter 70
CHASON HARLOW
It’s one of those fall days where the sun is bright in the sky and it looks much warmer than it is. I hoped to catch some rays, but the cool air requires a blanket, which defeats the purpose.
Ash is still blowing up my phone even though I texted her I’m fine. Fine is relative at this point.
Am I embarrassed? Totally.
Am I stupid? There’s no one stupider.
Can I stop thinking about him? No.
Hence, the stupidest, stupid man who ever lived.
Who needs an untrustworthy mongrel with deep soulful eyes, tattoos I want to map out, and lickable cum gutters?
Not me. I also didn’t dream of how his scruff would feel against my skin.
Or notice how his black eyebrows slant toward his nose and combine with the veins on his forehead, giving him a permanent scowl.
And don’t get me started on the veins in his forearms. Gawd almighty.
Ash answers and I clear my throat to sound normal. “Girl, I told you I’m fine.”
“What did the wolf want with you?” she asks outright, no small talk.
I stare up at the blue afternoon sky and start confessing. “I don’t know, but he slept in my bed as a wolf. Clearly, he’s not attracted to me, but he left faster than if I’d set his fur on fire.”
“Could he be protecting you?”
“From what? Nyx’s judgment or Mrs. Kimball, who might curse me in a confused dementia state?” She’s my neighbor, and aging has caused her magic to go wonky.
“I don’t know. You’re the one who got his face licked. He didn’t try to use that wolf-tongue anywhere else?” she says with so much innuendo I blush.
“Nope. He said his wolf sleepwalked into my bed,” I say with the derision it deserves.
“I’m coming over. We’ll have tacos and margaritas tonight, sleep all day tomorrow, and go back to our hellhole hospital the next day.”
“Have I told you you’re my goddess and true love?” I ask. Ash knows my favorite cures.
“Gimme a couple hours, and I’ll bring takeout to you.”
“Perfect. Except I’ll make Blue Rose Cosmos.”
“You and your stomach.” She laughs, we hang up, and the headache that’s been pressing against my skull gives me a minute of reprieve.
There’s a knock on my front door. “Moon Goddess, get in here or I’ll drink the entire pitcher.”
A low raspy voice calls, “Hello.”
I freeze. It’s him. Don’t ask me how but I know. The air changes and charges with a current strong enough to pull me out of the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the living room, where Rafe stands with his hands in his pockets.
“Sorry, I thought… ” I let the sentence hang, hoping he’ll explain himself.
“I won’t take up much of your time if you have plans.” A slight blush creeps up his neck and throat. His black hair is combed back and tidy, as opposed to the wild spikes it had this morning.
“Thank you for wearing clothes,” I quip and cross my arms. It’s more than annoying that he’s so freaking hot. Why can’t I meet a regular-looking guy who’s not a psycho? I’m not asking for the world. Even my traitorous cat isn’t admonishing him.
“Sorry about last night. If it’s not too much trouble, could you scry for my sister?” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a plastic bag. “I brought her shirt.”
“You don’t want to take up my time, but you want me to scry?
How long do you think that takes?” I sneer and he stands unnaturally still, holding the shirt out for me.
“What, you think I’ll grab a pendulum, a map, and her shirt, then swing it around a couple of times and poof—” I flick my ten fingers “—her location will be revealed?”
His obnoxiously handsome face says that’s exactly what he thought.
“So how much time do you need?” He swallows hard, and I watch his Adam’s apple as if it holds life’s secrets.
“A day to prep, and then there’s no guarantee. She’s been missing too long for easy answers. Are you hoping to find her alive or her body?” I ask, and his eyes go wide, as if he hasn’t considered the facts. “I’m not trying to be a dick, but you have to be prepared.”
“Right, of course.” He drops his arm, looking lost. “I… thought… I could…” His soulful eyes meet mine, filled with obvious pain. “I’ll go.”
“I’m not saying no.” I retreat into the dining room and rip lined paper off a pad, scribbling on it. “Here’s a list of things, and if you get them by tomorrow morning, we can schedule a scrying session in two days,” I say, and his face falls. “The next day I’m off work.”
He takes the list from me but doesn’t move. He’s restraining his power, and I’m unsure if he’d rather let it loose or run away.
“There’s one more thing.” He shuffles his feet. “It will sound insane, but my wolfthinksyou’reourmate.” He says the last part so quickly the words blur together.
“Mate?” I ask, and he nods. “But your wolf, not you?” I clarify.
He has the decency to flush with embarrassment.
“It’s a little out there for a wolf and a witch to be fated mates, right?” He shrugs, asking for validation, which ticks me off.
Even though the lack of free will and fate are the perfect combination for a disastrous relationship, it doesn’t mean he can dismiss me. If someone picks me, we might have a chance, but biological bonding is too far. He knows nothing about me except that I’m a witless witch.
“You know what you are?” I close the distance between us and poke him in the chest. “You’re a witch-ist.” I poke him again harder, ignoring the tingle spreading from my finger throughout the rest of my body.
“What’s a witch-ist?”
“A racist but against witches!” There’s something tangible circling us, not magic but something close to it, swirling and searching for an outlet.
“That’s not true,” he says, gritting his teeth.
Rafe grabs my finger on his chest, and his eyes flash amber. My anger takes a hard left, and confusion overtakes my senses. It’s as if we’re locked in a staring contest and I’m unable to look away, let alone move.
I call my anger back, intending to tell him that he’s an entitled, worthless wolf, but it has evaporated.
His eyes widen and he leans closer while I stretch on my toes, sensing he’s going to… he wouldn’t… kiss me. It’s the last rational thought before his lips meet mine, and I lose myself.
We become the center of everything, standing still in a vortex of chaos.
An invisible force slams into us, knotting us together, forming a bond.
His lips are surprisingly soft. Instead of pushing him away when he lifts me off my feet, I climb him like a tree and wrap my legs around his waist. He tastes wild, outdoorsy, more decadent than chocolate, and undeniably mine.
My rational brain hightails it on a beach vacation with no concern for my overall well-being.
And as long as my lips connect to Rafe’s, I’ve got zero complaints.
His scent permeates the entire space—bold and warm and woodsy.
His essence is equal to a human tiger’s eye stone: earthy and grounding but infused with the high energy of the sun.
Rafe’s facial hair is rough on my cheek and salaciously rubs my skin raw.
A contented rumble from Rafe’s chest makes my heart soar to the heavens. He’s happy because of me. Our tongues taste and explore, seeking more and more. I’m on a natural high that binds me to him.
We’re panting and gripping each other as if we’re lovers reuniting after a long time apart. He’s dangerous, capable of swallowing me whole, and I love it.
The fantastical part of my brain concocts plans to work without being parted from Rafe. Ever.
“Well, well, well. You must be the wolf man,” Ash drawls and succeeds in prying our lips apart.