Chapter 6 #2
I hold her gaze when she looks back up.
“Or I might stop pretending this is fake.”
I sit back, grab her milkshake, and down the rest of its half-melted contents in one gulp.
Her lips part. For one heartbeat, neither of us moves. Then Evie leans over the table, her hand cupping the side of my face. My senses are overwhelmed by her scent, and instinctively, I nuzzle into her palm.
Evie gasps just as I feel a deep tug in my chest, and I wonder if she feels it too. Heat races through my veins, and visions of bending her over this table and taking her right here cloud my mind. Every instinct in me screams to take her, mark her.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.
Her thumb swipes across my chin, pulling me from the too-vivid daydream. Evie sits back against the red leather seat, popping her whipped-cream-covered thumb into her mouth.
“Good to the last drop,” she says breathlessly.
Fuck.
Suddenly, my cock is throbbing in my pants, already leaking.
Like some goddess-damned teenager.
The car ride back to the bed-and-breakfast is quiet, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife like a fresh pumpkin pie. I pull into the small parking lot at the side of the house and open Evie’s door.
She takes my hand as she steps out, and I feel the tug deep in my chest again. She inhales deeply and starts up the stone steps toward the front porch.
“Here, let me carry that.” I swipe the takeout bag from her, letting my fingers linger against hers for a heartbeat before stepping out of reach.
The paper bag holds two leftover slices of pie, carefully packed in their containers because we were too stuffed to finish them earlier, though Evie was adamant we couldn’t leave without ordering them.
“It’s just a bag, and you drove us there and back. I can carry a slice of pie to the kitchen before we separate for the evening.” She digs around in her purse until she pulls out a strap with a set of jangling keys attached.
“You worried your keys are going to run off?” I eye the strap tethered to the inside of her purse.
“More like worried they’ll be eaten up by everything else in there, and it would take me an hour to find them. And that’s with dumping half the contents out first.”
“Why do you need so much stuff?” I try to carry as little with me as possible, just my keys, wallet, and phone.
“Why do you need so little?” Evie flips through the key ring until she finds the one she wants, then proceeds up the steps to the porch.
The wooden floorboards and stacks of pumpkins glow faintly beneath the porch lamp.
“I’m always finding stuff and putting it in there for later.
Sometimes to put it away where it belongs.
Sometimes for when I’m out and need something, like a sewing kit or a snack. ”
“And do you put the things back?”
“Well… sometimes. Usually once it’s near to bursting and—”
The sound of breaking glass echoes from around the house.
I grab Evie and pull her into my arms.
“Liam, what are you—”
She struggles in my grasp, but I hush her against her ear, and she goes still.
“Stay here,” I growl, releasing her and handing her the bag.
I pull my sweater over my head and kick off my slacks just as my jaguar form melts over me like a second skin. The world brightens, sounds sharpening as I clear the porch steps in one leap.
My ears prick forward as I prowl around the side of the building, moonlight filtering through the trees. I round the corner and spot a hooded figure with an arm through the freshly broken glass pane of the back door.
As though sensing my presence, the figure glances my way and yanks their hand from the door.
I take off running, four paws crunching over freshly fallen leaves, but the figure grabs a broom and takes off into the sky. I let out a guttural growl, hissing as they disappear from sight.
My tail flicks angrily behind me as I stalk across the back patio, looking for any clue, but the burglar has left no trace or scent, save for the broken glass.
Just like the other robberies, the thief has come and gone without a trace.
A light flicks on inside, and I press myself against the wall.
“Liam?” Evie calls, her blonde hair illuminated as she peers through the window.
Stubborn, beautiful witch.
I let go of my jaguar form and push to my feet just as she opens the back door.
“I thought I told you to stay.”
“This is my house. If something is going on, I need to know.” Her shoes crunch over glass as she steps outside, then pauses. “What the—?”
“Someone broke in through the back.”
“Clearly. Did you see who it was?” She bends to examine the broken glass on the ground.
“No. They took off on a broom before I could reach them.” I glance behind me as if they might somehow be there waiting, but when I turn around, Evie is standing slack-jawed, staring at me. “What?”
“I grabbed your clothes.” A flush creeps up her neck as she thrusts the folded bundle in my direction, looking anywhere but at me.
Ah, you’d think a witch living in a town chock-full of supernaturals would be used to shifters changing forms.
“Thank you.” I pull on my slacks and sweater, mindful of the broken glass as we step back inside the B&B. “I’ll get this cleaned up before we head to bed.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Evie flicks her wrist, and the broom and dustpan come flying from the hall.
I catch them before they reach her.
“Someone just tried to break into your house. You haven’t had a decent night’s rest since I got here.”
“What are you suggesting, Liam?”
“That bed upstairs wasn’t in a spare room. It’s your room. Your bed.” I point toward the ceiling before sweeping the glass into a pile. “It doesn’t matter if you boxed up all your stuff. Every inch of that room holds your essence.”
“I swear I cleaned—”
I drop the broom and dustpan and spin around, catching her chin and lifting her gaze to mine.
“The room is fine. The issue is that you’re sacrificing your personal well-being for the sake of one more guest to keep this place afloat. I only know it’s yours because—”
My throat tightens as I gaze into her blue eyes. I run my thumb along her jaw and down the column of her throat, watching her eyelids flutter as she leans into my touch.
“It’s just a shifter thing. I can scent your natural pumpkin chai scent lingering in the wood, in the room. Your magic lingers there, as it does on everything you touch.” I drop my hand and shut the door, locking it behind me. I’ll deal with the broken pane for her tomorrow.
“I’ll be fine, Liam. I’m staying in the old servants’ quarters off the kitchen. My parents sold our house down the block, and I figured during the busiest time of the year, I needed to be available. It’s only temporary, remember?”
The words hold no conviction, but they’re a blow to my gut nevertheless.
“Evie, the bed is big enough for two. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t ask me to.”
“Really, Liam. I’ll be fine.” She covers her mouth to stifle a yawn, but her body betrays her words—the dark circles under her eyes, the achy way she moves.
“A leannán, we both need the rest, and you can’t convince me that’s the standard mattress you have in every room in this B&B.”
She twists a stray strand of hair around her finger, her cheeks flushing rosy pink.
“Fine, but keep this purr-fectly straight. No funny business.” She wags a finger at me, and I can’t help but grin, pressing a hand to my chest in mock horror.
“Miss Hawthorne, is that a jaguar joke?”
“You know perfectly well what I meant.”
“Well…” I lean forward until my warm breath skims her earlobe. “You’ll find jaguars differ from cats in many ways. We don’t purr, but we can be very territorial.”
I step back, then gesture toward the broken door.
“Don’t try to stay up fixing it. I’ll handle it tomorrow.”