“So it’s my fault you lied to me?”
“I didn’t say that.” Luca squints at me. “And I didn’t lie to you.”
“Omission is a form of lying.” I cross my arms and look up at him defiantly.
He stares down the length of his nose at me. “You wouldn’t have believed me.”
“Ha. I don’t believe you now.” I step around him and start toward the stairs before a terrifying thought occurs to me.
I skid to a stop and turn. Luca nearly bowls me over in his haste to follow me. The only thing that saves me from taking a dive down a long flight of stairs is his arm around my waist. He holds me steady as I get my feet under me. Even then, he doesn’t let me go.
“I can leave, right?” I gush.
“Of course.” Despite the confirmation of his promise, his grip around my waist doesn’t loosen.
I glance down to show him that his actions are contradicting his words. My pulse hammers, but it’s not necessarily out of fear. I feel a surprising burst of excitement at the sight of his muscular arm around me, pinning me to him in a way that I have only experienced in dreams.
I clear my throat in the hopes that I can speak without revealing the conflict of emotions I feel. “So can I go now?”
He stares at me a beat, and I wonder if this is the moment he’s going to tell me no. That he has no intention of letting me leave. That all of this has been one big trick.
Then suddenly, his arm drops and the distance between us grows to several feet. He shoves both hands into his pockets.
“Go,” he orders. “Be careful though. Pay attention to your surroundings. Don’t wander outside after dark.”
“Right.” I inch backward with a smirk. “Because I’m in danger.”
His throat jumps. “I’m serious, Sav.”
“That’s exactly why I need to leave.”
I turn and start down the stairs. I get halfway before Luca calls my name. I look up, surprised to find him still standing on the deck where I left him.
“Is your dad home?”
“Why wouldn’t he be?”
“He goes out of town on occasion,” Luca states matter-of-factly. “To visit your stepmother.”
I breathe in. Out. Nothing about my expression will let him know he is right.
“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” Luca adds. “It’s not safe.”
I nod once before turning away from him again. I force my legs to descend the remaining stairs at a pace just shy of running. On the stone pathway, I push that limit. Despite all of my dad’s warnings about running away from a predator, I achieve the impossible.
I make it to my car, and I drive away.
Luca keeps his promise.
Chapter 10
Candlelight surrounds me and black silk envelopes me, its coolness a sharp contrast to the burning of my naked flesh. I’m not all-the-way naked, but naked enough. And I am not alone.
The swells of pleasure rippling through my body are courtesy of him. Everything he does brings out a side of myself I never knew existed. It’s all new and exciting and hotter than anything my imagination has ever conjured.
Despite my inexperience, I regret nothing. I couldn’t possibly.
Not when his eyes soak me in like I am the only thing he sees. Not when he touches me like I am his. Not when his mouth finds mine with the promise of his love.
His name is a whisper on my lips.
“Who’s Luca?”
Jill’s shrill voice is as efficient as a bucket of cold water. The pleasant dream vanishes, thrusting me into reality.
I jerk awake and sit up in bed with the sheets wrapped around me. “What are you doing in my room?”
“You were making noises. I thought you were dying,” she says.
“Nope. Still alive.”
“And flushed.” Jill smirks.
I glance toward the bathroom to make sure Steve hasn’t witnessed this embarrassing moment. He’s not, thank God.
“If you don’t mind . . .” I nod toward the door, hoping Jill’s few working brain cells will be enough to figure out the not-so-subtle hint.
“You want to get back to it?” She winks, but it’s not exactly friendly, or sisterly. “Too bad. You already slept through your alarm.” She reveals my phone, which she had hidden behind her back, and tosses it onto my bed with a leer. “Your boss called five minutes ago.”
At that, she twirls around and prances out of my room. The bathroom door slams shut as I thumb through my phone. Jill was right. I slept through the alarm. Danny called a few minutes ago—ten minutes after I was due in the office.
I toss the covers aside with a groan. I text Danny as I gather my uniform, then head for the bathroom. I nearly break my nose when I run into it. My hand twists the knob, but it’s locked from the other side. The water is running, which means Jill has started her shower.
“Bitch.”
I rip off my pajamas and get dressed. With no time for a braid, I pull my hair into a messy ponytail, then grab my bag and slip on my shoes.
Ten minutes later, I clock in—not even thirty minutes late. Danny greets me in the office with the news that no one knows I slept in, and that he spared me from wasting my life away in the store. I’m on craft duty today. Not bad, considering.
“You’re still my favorite, Prescott,” he calls from behind the front desk as I walk out the door to start my assignment.
In all the rush, I don’t have time to think about the arousing dream I woke up from this morning or the conversation I had with Luca two days ago.
I spent enough time yesterday obsessing over what he told me, and researching everything I could find about shifters, magic, and memory loss on the internet. It was a hell of a way to waste a day off work, and the only definite conclusion I came to is that there are a lot of weirdos with online access these days.
Since I never left the house, I didn’t see Luca. I’m eager to find out if he, Ryse, and Ryder have extended their stay at the campground, or if they packed their bags and left in my absence.
Five hours later, and four crafts down without incident, I’m convinced they are gone. Possibly for good. I don’t let my conflicted feelings about that get in the way of prepping for my last craft of the day.
I have only one box of supplies since I don’t anticipate a big group. I will be lucky to get a handful of campers at this one. While it’s a kid favorite, it’s also eighty degrees outside. The pool wins on afternoons like this.
I sip from my bottle of water and watch the fun in the distance with envy. Even in booty shorts, and standing in the shade, I’m hot. A bead of sweat trickles down the back of my neck.
Over the nearby sounds of splashing and laughter, I hear the steady approach of footsteps behind me. I know exactly who is coming thanks to the tingles skating up my spine and the extra warmth spreading across my skin.
It’s not the heat. It’s Luca.
He may be clinically unstable, but my body reacts to him in ways that are impossible to control or ignore. Still, I do my best to pretend I don’t know—or care—that he is near.
I lay tubes of paint out in neat rows on the picnic table like it’s my only purpose in life.
He stands behind me. Too close. Not close enough. I breathe in air now saturated by him. Woodsy and minty and masculine. He isn’t sweating profusely.
“We need to talk,” Luca says.
My teeth grate together as I shove my hand into a box of paintbrushes.
“Sav . . .”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap. I fan the brushes out on the table and remind myself to let it go. It’s better not to engage him.
He sighs loudly. “Once upon a time, I was the only person who called you that. It’s a hard habit to break.”
My hand freezes over the brushes. I fold it into a fist before I turn to look at him. “You’re serious?”
One dark brow shoots up. “About?”
“Us knowing each other before,” I clarify. “You’re really sti
cking with that story?”
“It’s not a story,” he says simply. “It’s the truth.”
“Sounded like a story.” I give him the smile I usually reserve for the little kids before I turn away from him.
“I was wrong,” he mutters to my back. “Compared to this, you tolerated hearing the truth much better on your birthday. I would rather deal with you being angry than in denial.”
“It’s easy to deny things that are crazy.” I lower my voice to a loud whisper and hiss the last word.
I have to. Kids are showing up now. The youngest ones have parents in tow.
“Fine.” Luca’s jaw clenches. “I’ll find another way to convince you that I’m telling the truth.”
“Good luck.” I flash him my work smile and turn to straighten the brushes that aren’t crooked.
They don’t need to be straightened. I need to keep myself busy, even if that means faking it.
I don’t look up until I’ve finished arranging and rearranging all the supplies for the craft. I don’t feel Luca’s presence behind me anymore, but I still feel him. All around me. In me. Consuming me and my thoughts.
They’re not all bad either. I may have concerns about his mental health, but I can’t deny my physical response to him. The way my knees grow a little weak when he grins. The flutter in my chest when I hear his voice—especially when he calls me Sav. I know I keep telling him not to, but that’s only because I don’t know what to do with the way it makes me feel to hear it.
I take an extra moment to gather my composure before my trembling voice scares the kids and get me fired. When I finally look up, prepared to start the craft, the breath I gathered rushes out of me. My knees weaken because . . .
Damn. That grin.
Luca is sharing a bench with two red-headed girls who must be sisters. Neither are older than ten years old. I would say he looks ridiculous seated beside them if it wasn’t so cute.
In a short amount of time, he has won over his pig-tailed partners. The oldest whispers something in his ear. His eyes glide to me and he nods. Then they fist bump. Both girls giggle.
My ovaries do a little jig.
I have no idea how I manage to force words out of my mouth. Somehow, I tell the campers what craft they will be doing, and show them the supplies they will be using. I tell them to come get their ready-to-paint ceramics from the plastic bin like the trained and experienced Hilderness employee I am, and I do not check out Luca’s butt when he passes to get one for himself.
I help the kids without a guardian squeeze paint out of their tubes and show the artistically-challenged how to make clean strokes with the brushes. I don’t glance in Luca’s direction a dozen times in the span of twenty minutes, and I don’t make eye contact with him half of those times.
I don’t notice my pulse pounding as more and more campers finish, put away their supplies, and leave the pavilion with their freshly-painted ceramics. I don’t notice that Luca is waiting them out, and it most certainly doesn’t occur to me that we will soon be alone.
He doesn’t wait. A few campers linger when he gets out of his seat and parts from his underage fans with two high fives. His gaze locks on me as he saunters across the pavilion.
I shove tubes of paint and brushes into their respective boxes. I don’t look up when I hear the gravel crunch under his feet.
“That was fun,” he says.
“The kids really seem to enjoy it.” I give him a pointed look.
He grins. “I’m a kid at heart.”
I glance toward the little girls he sat beside as they gather their things. The oldest is watching us intently, her curious gaze darting between us before finally settling on Luca. If this were an animated movie, her eyes would turn into hearts.
“You know how to make an impression,” I tell him quietly.
The girls walk toward us with sheepish expressions that turn into big grins the instant Luca looks their way.
“That’s Abby.” Luca nods at the youngest, then tugs on the oldest girl’s pigtail. “And this is Bella. We have an understanding. Don’t we, Bella?”
She hands me her supplies. “Luca’s nice,” she tells me.
I look at Luca, who shrugs innocently.
“You should definitely go out with him,” Bella adds.
My mouth drops open and stays there. Luca gathers their supplies and puts them in the box since I’m momentarily paralyzed. They say their goodbyes, and the little girls giggle as they run off. They are long gone—everyone is now—and my mouth is dry. I snap it shut and swing my gaze toward Luca. He’s waiting with a dimply smile.
“We had a nice chat while we painted,” he starts. “They gave me an idea.”
“I’m afraid to ask.” I groan.
“I went about this the wrong way,” he says. “Granted, you got curious and forced the issue prematurely, but I should have waited. I wanted you to trust me first. I set out to earn your trust, and I haven’t done that. Not yet.”
“I don’t understand,” I manage.
“I know that everything I’ve told you is the truth, but you have no reason to believe me. You don’t know me. That’s what I need to amend,” he finishes.
“By taking me on a date?” Skepticism laces my tone.
“In a sense, yes.” Luca smiles. “Are you free tonight?”
My head fills with fog. Concentration is impossible as panic rolls in. Not for the obvious reasons—that Luca claims he is a wolf shifter and the many, many other alarming things he told me—but because I don’t know what to say.
I am torn. The little voice in my head is screaming yes, while the rest of me worries that I don’t know what I will be getting myself into. My dating resume lists one guy, and Luca is in an entirely different league from Steve.
“I . . . can’t,” I stammer.
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“I’m busy,” I add.
“Sav, we both know you’ve read your copy of Wuthering Heights so many times you can quote it by now.” Luca flashes a grin that makes it really hard to say no to if he asks again. “Have dinner with me. Let me show you that I’m not as bad as you think I am.”
I’m tempted. In spite of everything he has told me, I still want to go out with him. Maybe that makes me just as crazy as he is, but I don’t care at the moment. Teenage hormones make people do dumb things, and mine are going ballistic right now.
“I’m having pizza with my dad,” I explain in a rush, equally disappointed and relieved that I have a legitimate excuse.
“Oh, right.” He nods. “Of course. I can’t interfere with the Friday night routine.”
I briefly worry that he’s making fun of me until I see the smile in his eyes. It’s almost nostalgic.
Before I can question him about it, he asks, “How about tomorrow night?”
“Saturday? Um . . .”
“Heathcliff can wait,” he presses.
“I’m not reading Wuthering Heights,” I snap.
He shrugs. “This week.”
“You know what?” My eyes narrow. “I’m pretty sure I’m busy that night, too. In fact, I’m booked solid for . . . how long are you in town?”
He grins. “Indefinitely.”
“Sorry.” I shrug. “I’m busy that entire time.”
I leave him there, alone in the pavilion and grinning like he thinks I’m joking. Little does he realize how serious I am. No one—and I mean no one—gets away with making fun of my favorite books.
I convince myself that is the reason I am running, but the truth nips at my heels with every step I take away from him.
I have to walk away now because I don’t have it in me to say no to him again.
Chapter 11
When I get home, there is a twenty-dollar bill and a note from Dad waiting for me on the counter. He won’t be joining me for pizza tonight. Rhonda is stuck in Spokane again, and Dad has gone to see her. He will be back on Sunday afternoon. His assistant is in charge of the shop while he is gone, and I am to
be on my best behavior. He knows I will be responsible and follow the house rules—the ones Jill breaks all the time and manages to get away with.
At least she’s not here. She doesn’t know Dad is gone, and I plan to keep it that way for as long as possible. I tear up the note and toss it in the trash. Pocket the twenty. Dad or no Dad, I’m still spending it on a pizza.
This trip to the restaurant is nothing like the last one. The dining area is nearly empty when I enter, and Dom doesn’t greet me at the counter like he usually does. I catch a glimpse of him in the kitchen, a dusting of flour covering his uniform, and feel a tug in my gut.
It’s nothing like the overwhelming sensations Luca induces. I recognize this one as regret. I wish I could feel something for Dom the way I do for Luca. He is a good guy, but the chemistry isn’t there. The fireworks are missing. Luca has monopolized all of them.
That’s not my fault. I didn’t choose to like the guy with issues. I’m not that girl, who goes after the tortured boy in hopes of converting him into prime boyfriend material. My attraction to Luca is purely incidental. I didn’t intend for it to happen. It just did.
Walking to my car with my large meat-covered pizza, I almost wish I said yes to Luca’s dinner invitation. Almost. Instead, I’ll be eating this huge pie alone all weekend, and my date tonight is with four girls named Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy.
Jill still isn’t there when I get home, and I suspect she is at Jeremiah Stone’s party—the one Vienna has been trying unsuccessfully for the past hour to convince me to come to. The house is quiet and peaceful—exactly how I like it for a good reading marathon.
I enjoy a few slices of the pizza in my bedroom, a worn copy of Little Women in my lap, and get Vienna off my back by making a morning coffee date with her.
Time slips away.
My head snaps up at the sound of a loud thump at my window. I stare outside, wondering when it got dark. I pick up my phone to check the time and see that it’s a little past midnight. No missed messages or calls.
I set the book down with a yawn and rub my tired eyes.
Shifter Crown: Valley of Truth and Denial (The Shifter Crown Series Book 1) Page 9
