by Sela Carsen
“Your dream, maybe. Not mine. Don’t you understand, Gary? Being a woman doesn’t make me weak. I love working in my library and I don’t want to be at your beck and call. And the fact that you don’t get that is just sad.”
Gary was the one stepping back now. He raised his arm to shield his eyes from the bright light that suffused the room. Where the heck was that coming from?
Oh. Debra checked herself. She was glowing like a nuclear plant in a third-world country. Uncertainty made the light falter, but she stood straighter, owning her gift for the first time in her life.
“Go away, Gary. Leave me alone. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can do that on my own. What I need is someone to love me. I don’t think you’re capable of it.”
The hand on his cane tightened and she could have sworn he growled, low and ugly. “You are going to regret this, Debra Henry. I want you and I’ll have you. I don’t like to lose.” He pushed past her and through the door.
Curious heads poked around the stacks and he paused to adjust his gait and his tie. He glad-handed his way out of the library and Debra’s stomach turned. A politician to the bone. It was like the man left a slime trail behind him.
The power she had gathered dissipated in tiny sparks, leaving her hollow and tired. She glanced at her watch, but the second hand wobbled. She shook her wrist, but it was no use. Oh well. A watch was a small price to pay for the rush of power she’d experienced.
All her life, she’d been the one in the background, learning and absorbing knowledge. It was her responsibility to Morgaine, but she took no joy in it. Instead she hid behind the task, using it as an excuse to never get close to anyone. Like her mother, she was the job, rarely indulging her desires, material or otherwise. She wore sensible, professional clothes in solid colors and classic styles. Getting her hair cut was just a whim, but she was glad she’d done it. Feminine and flattering, it made her feel better.
These surges made her think about herself in a new light. A light where being a whole person involved more than just her mind. What she’d said to Gary resonated with her. Being a woman was a genuine thrill and she’d been missing out. Grrl power ruled. She might have to start listening to Helen Reddy and burn her bra at this rate. Or maybe she’d just buy newer, prettier bras instead.
Still rattled by the encounter, she powdered her nose and smoothed down her hair before she went back out to her desk. Thankfully, it was almost time to go home. She had a pounding headache that even the thought of dinner with Maddox couldn’t dim.
“Sugar, are you ok?”
Charlene King had a nose for conflict that would do a New York journalist proud. It was no surprise she showed up after the mayor left, just as it was no secret she didn’t like him. That confluence of opinion made her a formidable ally within the confines of Culford society.
Since Debra needed all the support she could get to keep the library busy and well-funded, she was grateful to have Charlene on her side. Not to mention, her hair had never looked better.
“I’m fine, Charlene. Are you ready to check out now?”
“You bet. You know, I enjoyed hearing your plan to expand the library.”
“Well, the council has to approve it first.” And the mayor, she added silently. Her library was screwed.
“Is Gary Corvell giving you a hard time?” Charlene leaned in, giving off an air of confidentiality.
Debra tightened her lips. No way was she going to start gossiping about that jerk. That was trouble she didn’t need.
“Honey, don’t you worry about him. That little weasel has had it far too easy his whole life. Every Corvell son has been mayor at least once, since the original one built this house. And we’ve been watching the way he runs after you. It’s not even decent.” She fluffed her hair, and then patted Debra’s hand. “Don’t fuss now. We know you’re not doing anything to encourage him, but if he tries to shoot down our new library, he’s going to have some real trouble.”
Since she was going blind from mortification, Debra could only focus on one thing at a time. “We?”
“Me and Mildred, of course.”
Right. Charlene and Mildred—the two biggest gossips in town, as well as lifelong enemies—united on a course of action. Debra looked out the door to see if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were trotting down the street.
“What is far more interesting is the way that young man from the Congaree Park was looking at you during the council meeting. He certainly seemed fascinated. And so handsome.” Charlene winked broadly.
The memory of Maddox’s kisses was worth an answering grin. “I have no comment for the press at this time.”
Charlene chuckled and gathered her books. “We’ll see about that.”
Debra packed her things, exhaustion making her steps heavy and slow. As she trudged out the door, a car pulled up in front of the library. It was Maddox.
“C’mon, Debra. I’ll give you a ride home.” He got out and came around to open her door. At least he’d changed out of her Read Naked T-shirt and crappy shorts. The jeans were old, worn and intriguingly butt-hugging. The green polo was not an improvement. The nasty color, somewhere between nuclear waste and radiator fluid, didn’t help her headache.
She waved ineffectively toward her car. “What about—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He handed her into the seat, glancing up and down the street.
“What’s wrong, Maddox?” she asked after he slid in behind the wheel. “Mmmmm, and what’s that smell?” The whole car was redolent with the aroma of steak.
“That’s dinner. I know I said I’d take you to Solstice, but that was before I figured out a few things. It’s probably best that we stay in tonight. We have a lot to discuss.”
The headache receded behind sharp concern. “What is going on?” His hands were tight on the wheel and a slight frown left a vertical slash between his brows.
The roar of the air conditioner grated on her nerves, so she reached over and snapped it off, rolling down her window instead. Immediately, the waning summer scents filled the car. Azalea blossoms and grilled steak, pine trees and hot asphalt.
“Are you feeling all right, Debra?”
“Just a headache. Strange, because it’s not like I have any stress in my life right now.” She closed her eyes and let the wind blow away the pain.
When they pulled up in front of her little house, she heaved a sigh. Home, at last. She got out and unlocked her door, with Maddox right behind her, carrying in dinner.
Greeting Twister after a long day at work took time and energy she could hardly spare, but his enthusiastic adoration made her feel a little better. She put his dinner—mixed with a little plain yogurt she had in her fridge—outside and closed the screen door, getting some cross-ventilation going.
“Come here,” said Maddox, leading her to the tall stools lined up under her kitchen counter. “Have you eaten today?”
Debra shook her head. She’d been too nervous to eat lunch and the toast and jam from this morning hadn’t lasted long.
“These are still warm, so let’s eat. Almost like a real date.”
“Do you think we’ll ever have one of those?”
“I don’t know.” His easy smile was back. “Sitting in a public place, always interrupted by waiters. Dinner at home can be a lot more fun.” He rummaged through her cabinets, found plates and silverware and unloaded the contents of the take-away boxes.
“I went down to Robin’s instead. They’re the only place in town that cooks their steaks rare enough for me.” He uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured for both of them. She sipped then took a larger swallow.
“I ordered yours medium rare. I hope that’s ok.”
Debra cut off a bite and put it in her mouth. It melted away and she groaned in pure, visceral pleasure. “Perfect.”
Maddox turned down the lights. The evening breeze took the edge off the day’s humidity.
In between bites of steak, sweet potato fries and creame
d spinach, she retrieved her notebook and pencil and sat down again.
“You said we had a lot to discuss. Why don’t we start?”
“Going to take notes as we eat?”
“That’s the plan.” Depending on what he had discovered about the lunatic who had attacked her last night, she might be able to use her newly recharged power to protect both herself and Maddox. Her ability had to be good for something besides making her glow like a nightlight.
Maddox grunted and finished chewing. “Ever read any medieval French literature?”
“No, not really.”
“A knight named Melion is the subject of a twelfth-century story out of Brittany, in the north of France. Back in the day, they actually had more ties to Wales and Britain than they did with France, so a lot of their mythology is mixed up with that. Even the Breton language is closer to Welsh than French.”
“And this is relevant how?”
“Settle down.” He sipped his wine and thought for a moment. “Ok, long story short, Melion is the original werewolf. He is where we began.”
Debra leaned forward. Now they were getting to the good stuff.
“Have another bite and I’ll tell you more. You need to eat.”
“No, no. This is good. Keep talking.”
“Eat first, then I’ll talk.” To prove his point, he took another bite and chewed slowly, making exaggerated yummy sounds. She rolled her eyes. Fine, then. Debra put down her notebook, cut off another bite of steak and practically swallowed it whole.
“Nuh-uh. This is truly prime beef, Debra. Enjoy it. Savor it. If you eat too fast, you’ll regret it.”
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m trying to slow you down. A lot of things have been thrown at you and I want you to take a step back before you overload.”
She hung her head and closed her eyes. He was right.
“I hate it when you’re right.”
“I know. I’ll try to lob a few your way.”
For the first time since she’d seen him in that old T-shirt, Debra laughed. It was weak, but it was a laugh. She tucked in and ate her dinner.
Chapter Seven
Maddox hid a shudder of lust as he watched her eat. The woman was sex on a stick and she had no idea how she affected him.
Too bad she didn’t trust him.
An acrid tinge of deception colored the air sometimes when they spoke. Mostly when they spoke about magic. Debra had power, but he couldn’t quite figure out what kind. Tonight, he needed answers almost as much as he needed her in his arms.
She finished her last bite, her last sip of wine, and delicately dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Close enough. He took her hand and helped her slide off the stool.
“Before we get to the part where you have to lie to me about what you are and what you’re protecting, I need to kiss you.”
Her eyes widened and she tried to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve been dying to do this all day long, Debra. I can’t wait anymore.”
Every dominant instinct he possessed, both as a wolf and as a man, surged forward and he bent her over his arm, his hand cradling the back of her head as he kissed her. Devoured her. Consumed her.
Her lips melted under his, the tang of the dry red wine lingering in her mouth. Maddox dipped his tongue inside to savor more and tasted the overwhelming flavor of passion. Debra came alive in his arms. Not content to be swept under him, she fought his lead, vying for control, and he relished the battle.
She hooked one leg around him. Her skirt was long and slim, preventing her from moving higher, so he slid his hand down and yanked up the fabric, bunching it around her hips so he could grab her thigh and pull her in tighter to his body.
Thigh-highs. She was wearing thigh-high stockings. With garters. His knees went weak. His erection turned into a painful throb and he groaned, pulling away from her mouth to nuzzle her neck.
“You’re killing me, pretty little Debra Henry.”
“Likewise, Mr. Moreau.” Her soft, sweet drawl ripped his heart right out of his chest, but her scent changed from the spice of lust to sharp regret. She hugged him, tucking her face into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” Her arms sagged and the weight of her remorse pulled at him like a millstone.
He slid her thigh back down his leg and adjusted her skirt. “Please tell me what it is. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
“I can’t. I’m so sorry, but I just can’t. Telling you may put us in even more danger than we’re in now. It’s…complicated.”
“You’re a witch. I know. I smell magic on you, Debra. Sweet and sparkling. It’s like champagne. I know you’re protecting something and I figure it’s got to be pretty big if you’re not telling me, am I right?”
The hitch in her breath and the way she caught her lower lip in her teeth gave him the answer he’d already guessed.
“There are rules that have to be followed. It’s not my secret to tell.”
“I understand that, but we’ll have to deal with it sooner or later.” He nuzzled her cheek. “Maybe later.”
Despite the lie that stood between them, he knew her down in his bones. It was bad enough when he’d only wanted her, when his plan was to woo her gently, but in the face of the danger and the power that surrounded them, they were well past a slow courtship. Something bigger than both of them was moving them together and he didn’t want to fight it.
“I have this fantasy,” he said, letting his hand wander down over her hips.
“Do we have time for fantasies?” Her eyes glazed, her lips parted, and she reached up to kiss him again. He licked at her mouth.
“We’ll make time. This one should be easy for you. You’re perfect for it, in fact.” Her glasses had slid down to their customary spot and she looked at him over the rims. While getting her naked and spread was high on his priority list, Maddox still wanted to give her something she needed—a loving that was fun and lighthearted.
He spun her out on the tips of his fingers. “You’re the sexiest librarian I’ve ever seen. Sharp haircut, hot glasses. Pretty blouse.” He trailed a finger down the modest V-neck. “Tight skirt.” His other hand palmed her ass. “Your shoes are a little on the sensible side. Got any hooker heels?”
She chuckled, a husky sound that fired his blood. “You have a librarian fantasy?”
“Only if you’re the librarian.” He reached into her open tote bag and pulled out a paperback. A romance novel, its cover a subtle, sensual twining of male and female limbs. He tossed it onto the floor behind her. Her head cocked in confusion.
“Oh, Miss Librarian. I dropped a book. Would you please bend over and pick it up for me?”
Debra eyed the book, then her lips quirked up in a sexy smile. Her hips rolled as she turned her back on him. Oh yeah. She was getting into it now. Rather than just leaning down for it, however, she bent at the knees and, spine straight, elegantly lowered herself to reach the book. Not quite what he had in mind, but he’d work with it.
Then she nailed him. Smooth and slow, her legs straightened. Her arm still touching the floor, her ass rose in front of him like a mirage out of the desert. Teasing. Taunting. Right about the time she began to lift her body, he stepped behind her, hugging her hips into his, savoring the slide of heat on heat. His cock was cushioned against those luscious cheeks as she stood fully into his hold, reaching back with her arm to pull his head down to hers.
His hands shook when he took the book from her and tossed it onto the couch. His arms wrapped around her waist as he nuzzled her neck.
“Why, sir, didn’t you want that book?”
“I don’t need to read love scenes, babe. Let’s go write one.”
He led her to the hot, dark bedroom and left her standing dazed while he opened all the windows to the night breeze, the ceiling fan stirring to lazy life. Debra swayed in her sensible shoes and he came back to her.
“That’s much better. Now we can smell the night.”
She sorted out the scents of the forest as they flowed through her room. The most powerful of all was the male musk that filled her head.
“All I smell is you.”
A wisp of night-blooming jasmine whispered through the air and the mood shifted to something sweeter, softer. He folded her in his arms and she welcomed the tenderness. Her head rested against his strong shoulder. The softest kiss landed in her hair as his hands stroked her.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured. They stood in the starlit dark a moment longer before his arms tightened. “Tell me more about these stories, Miss Librarian.”
Debra laughed. “I don’t need the fantasy to make love to you, Maddox.”
“I know, but we’ve had a rough day. Do you realize we’ve known each other for only twenty-four hours? We’ve eaten two meals together. We’ve healed each other’s wounds. We’ve showered and slept together. Let’s take a little time to play. Do you really read those naughty books?”
She blushed and wondered if he could see in the dark. “A few.”
“Fantastic. Let’s see what you can teach me.”
Ripples of magic skidded through her. Maddox wasn’t focused on what he could do to lead, though he was one of the strongest personalities she’d ever encountered, but what they could do together. Every second she spent with him, she became more and more the best version of herself. Sexy, feminine and powerful.
She raised her face to his and tasted his lips. As heady as good whiskey, he plastered her against him, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel his skin on hers.
Debra reached under his shirt and pulled up. Their lips clung until the last moment, when the noxious green fabric came between them. He undid her buttons and, within moments, her shirt followed his to the floor.
“I was right,” he groaned.
“About what?” Debra went after the button on his jeans, cursing her nails as they got in the way.
“These.” He cupped her breasts through her plain, rather sturdy bra. Not seduction material, by any means, but he didn’t seem to care. “I thought I might have dreamed these, but they’re real.”
