Chapter 10 Aurora #3
Ezra watches me, the corner of his mouth twitching with a decision he’s clearly already made. Then slowly, he lifts one brow. “You’re forgiven.”
I exhale, sidestep his stupidly tall body, and lock onto the mess of books beside his chair, needing something else to look at.
“I hope that means I still get a tour.”
The stack of books Ezra pulled from earlier is a hodgepodge of fiction: classic literature, horror, science fiction, romance, thriller.
I’m impressed.
Every man I know scoffs at the thought of reading romance novels, but Ezra seems interested in all literature, which causes my traitorous body to flush.
“Is this your to-be-read pile? It’s really … eclectic …”
“Yes, I find it’s important to read all genres. It helps one understand human nature, human relationships, that sort of thing. And to be clear,” Ezra grumbles, his voice low and husky as he takes another step toward me, “I find Ulysses to be dull, insignificant, and severely overrated.”
Another smirk plays on the corners of his lips, and I just stand there like a moron, wondering what his mouth tastes like.
My brain is static. There is no grip to get. There’s only him.
Finally, Ezra steps back, giving me room to breathe and get my goddamn body under control.
Behind him, the shadows deepen. Maybe it’s the way he’s standing. Or it could be nothing at all.
“And please, call me Ezra. Mr. Aster seems so formal, and it sounds like you’ll be here regularly to consult with Thane. So, let’s skip the formalities, Aurora. Is that agreeable?” he asks while moving toward me again, extending his hand with practiced formality.
I look away, pretending to consider his peace offering, before I grasp his extended hand. “Yes, Ezra. That’s agreeable. Now, about that tour. Your shop is really lovely.”
Did he flinch when I said his name?
No … I doubt anything shakes this man.
Ezra’s long, cool fingers curl around mine, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down my spine. He smiles like he’s well aware of the havoc he’s wreaking on my hormones, then releases me with that same smug ease and gestures toward the back of the shop.
“The tour won’t take long, but I’m particularly proud of the antique books section. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Ezra lightly places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the left, where a sign that reads “Rare & Antique Books” hangs.
Every time this man touches me, something in my body flares to life. And despite my earlier rage about his lack of boundaries, I want to feel his hands on my bare skin.
So, to distract myself from the filthy thoughts flitting through my mind, I ask him a question.
“Why did you name your shop after the Celtic god of dogs and healing? I would have chosen something to do with books or knowledge, or maybe imagination.”
Ezra halts mid-step, his gaze snapping to mine.
Be careful, Mr. Aster, your mask is slipping.
His lips part, just slightly, before pressing into a thin line as if he’s locking away whatever almost escaped.
“You know who Nodens is?” His voice is steady, but something flickers in those tempest-grey eyes. “Well, that’s a first,” he says smoothly, but the way his fingers tighten slightly at his sides?
Yeah, not so smooth.
“It’s an excellent question. And your suggestions, although fitting, are predictable. I, my dear, am anything but.”
No shit.
“I’m afraid I don’t have a straightforward answer for you. I have a special bond with dogs and have a firm belief that stories carry the power to heal one’s soul. Because Nodens represents both, I felt it was an appropriate name.”
He pauses there before he adds, “Although Nodens was a complete drunken brute who treated animals poorly and women even worse. It makes sense that Lovecraft would worship him. Wretched men cling to wretched idols. The lesser god never deserved the power he had.”
I laugh softly, earning me a tilt of Ezra’s head and a sharp frown.
Is he really confused by my reaction? He just spoke like he knew Nodens personally. And the fact that he casually dragged Lovecraft in the same breath is … annoyingly attractive.
Ezra hums, the sound edged with disapproval, then turns on his heels and walks away from me.
“Okay …” I mutter to myself while I rush after him.
The back of the shop is dim. I’m assuming it’s dark to keep the older books in good condition.
Shadows play along the wall as we walk, and my imagination runs wild with visions of woodland animals happily playing within the dark tendrils. My steps slow as I watch them frolic—ears twitching, tails curling, paws stepping in time with mine.
This … isn’t real.
“Is something wrong, Aurora?”
Ezra’s voice is closer than I expected. He’s returned to my side, his head tilted ever so slightly. Watching. Waiting. His gaze flickers, first to me, then to the wall I’m staring at like an idiot.
The corner of his mouth twitches. Just barely.
“Um …”
Where the hell do I start? The truth is absurd, and Ezra doesn’t seem like the type who would entertain the notion of dancing animal shadows.
“No, I’m fine. Sorry, just got lost in my thoughts again.”
I refuse to show any weakness in front of this man. Especially after this morning.
And honestly, with everything I’ve experienced in the past day, I don’t even trust myself right now.
On the bright side, I didn’t know losing your mind would be so pleasant and whimsical.
Ezra studies me for a moment, then continues his stroll toward the back of the shop.
The deep, calming breath filling my lungs hitches when I realize the frolicking shadow animals on the wall are moving, twisting and crawling as they follow in Ezra’s path.
I think I need to make an eye appointment.
Maybe get a CAT scan.
Possibly a lobotomy.
When we reach our destination, Ezra says, “We keep the new and used books up front. Most of the customers who come through here want something to keep them entertained while hiking. That’s how the physical shop makes most of its money.
My passion, however, is rare and antique books.
And although we don’t sell many here in Lorewood, we do sell quite a few at a fair price through Thane’s online store.
Of course, there are some I don’t put up for sale, but I keep those locked up at home. ”
His voice trails off while his eyes burn holes through my body.
He’s waiting for some type of reaction or response. Unfortunately, Mr. Aster will not get what he wants.
Can brains have orgasms? Because the moment I spot the various first editions and antique books that line the windowed shelves, my mind goes blissfully blank.
Most are bound in deep red, green, or brown leather, with some of them stamped in gold foil that catches the light.
My fingers twitch against my leg while I daydream of leafing through these treasures.
“Do you like them, Aurora? I can only assume by your gaping mouth that you find them as beautiful as I do. I didn’t think women like you could appreciate books like these. You’re a surprising little thing.”
Ezra weighs every word that comes out of his mouth. They sound rude, and they are, but there’s an undercurrent of appreciation that’s oddly endearing. So, I’ll let it slide this time.
“Ezra, these books are beautiful! I can’t imagine where they all came from, who owned them before you … what these books must have seen.”
At the edge of my vision, the bookshelves waver, shadows twisting into shapes that feel too sharp, too alive.
My pulse jumps, but when I turn back, Ezra’s watching me with unsettling calm.
Nope. Not dealing with that right now.
I throw myself into the nearest shelf, letting the books distract me, murmuring happily as I flit between titles, pretending I’m not still rattled.
Ezra stands back, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches me explore.
He must enjoy showing these off because his body is no longer rigid and there’s a warmth emanating from him that makes me want to snuggle into the crook of his arm. Thankfully, the books keep my hormones from taking control.
His collection here at the shop is already impressive, but I’d kill to know what’s tucked away in his house.
Ezra drifts closer and settles at my side. Once again, the heat from his body calls to mine, and I struggle to keep my eyes on the shelf ahead of me.
“Would you … like to take one out?” Ezra asks, almost hopefully.
He’s obviously showing off, but how often do I get to interact with antique books?
“Really? You’d let me look through one?” I ask, turning to face him.
The same shadows from earlier slink along the walls, only now they don’t just flicker and twist. They curl around Ezra’s face, weaving through the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones, claiming the space as their own.
How can someone be so stupidly perfect?
Ezra notices my pause and chuckles. “Yes, of course. You’re a guest in my shop, and if you wish to see a book, I’m bound to fulfill that request.”
He twirls the keys around those long, elegant fingers—the same fingers I imagined slipping between my legs after brushing my hair back.
“Tell me, Aurora …” Ezra’s voice is quiet, but it settles like a dare. “Which one do you want?”
There are so many that I don’t know where to start.
Eventually, I decide I’m going to pick something I’ve never heard of before.
My body involuntarily sways back and forth as I search for one that calls to me—the perfect book for me in this moment.
“May I look through that one?” I ask, pointing to a slightly worn book with a dark green cover and a four-tier cake embossed in gold foil on the spine.
“Your wish is my command, Aurora,” Ezra says as he unlocks the case.
His long fingers gently pull the book from the shelf, and just before I slip into another fantasy about the way they might learn my body, he places it in my hands.
“I must say, I wasn’t expecting that. I assumed you’d gravitate toward the classics—Austen, Bronte, maybe Tolkien. But you went with … cake.”
Ezra tilts his head, studying me like I’m a puzzle missing half its pieces.