Violet

by Mia Harlan

  I should have put two and two together sooner, but it’s not like troll cops are rare in Silver Springs. How was I supposed to know my mate is Betty’s grandson? Especially when he looks nothing like his grandmother?

  “Who’s Betty?” Amber asks.

  “Me, dear,” Betty says, walking up with a stack of romance books. She sets them down on the desk, along with her library card, and turns to the vampire. “Hello, Bert. Good to see you again.”

  “Ma’am.” Bert tips his ball cap slightly.

  “I’m Amber,” my sister tells Betty. “I own the cafe in town.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amber. Liam’s always raving about your Mood Teas.”

  “He is?” Amber asks, looking pleased. “How do you know him?”

  “I’m his grandmother.”

  Amber looks from Betty, to me, and back again. Then her eyes widen, and she suddenly shifts into a troll. My troll—Betty’s troll—Liam.

  “Well done!” Betty claps her hands. “You can’t even tell the difference.”

  Except that you can. I can! Because now that I’ve met the real Liam, I realize he looks so much hotter than my sister! Which sounds wrong. Like, really wrong... But Amber as Liam is a poor imitation of the real thing. And I realize that when it comes to my troll, I’ll always know if it’s him.

  “Where is Liam?” Betty asks once Amber shifts back to herself again. “We’re supposed to leave soon, or I’m going to be late for my cut.”

  “He—” Bert starts to explain.

  “Had to go back on duty!” I interrupt, silently pleading that he’ll stick to my story.

  I don’t know why I even bother. It’s not like I can somehow keep this a secret from Betty. She’ll find out the truth as soon as she gets home. And if Liam doesn’t tell her, someone else will. In a small town like Silver Springs, word travels fast.

  I should just tell Betty myself. Get it over with, like ripping off a bandage. Except how do I explain that her grandson is my mate? She’ll think I’m a cougar—scratch that, a double cougar! I’m not just old enough to be Liam’s mother, but his grandmother... maybe even great-grandmother. Once Betty finds out, she’ll never speak to me again.

  I think Bert notices my panic, because he doesn’t rat me out. Instead, he says, “An officer of the law never sleeps.”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Betty says with a far-away look that tells me she’s thinking of her late husband. Then she frowns. “Shouldn’t you go with him, Bert?”

  “I was just about to do that, ma’am. Just need to make sure the glass is taken care of.”

  “What glass?” Betty frowns, like she somehow missed the front door exploding.

  She glances down at her feet first, then at me, then back toward the shelves. I follow her gaze and spot Stacks rolling around on his back, wagging his tail happily while one of the seniors gives him a belly rub. Which is weird, but also kind of adorable.

  “The front door,” Bert clarifies, shooting me a pointed look. “There was an... incident. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it, Betty.”

  “It must have happened while I was in the ladies’ room,” Betty says, turning to gape at the door. “Is Liam chasing after the perp?”

  “Something like that.” Bert nods and gives me another pointed look. “Now, I better go look for my partner.”

  “And I’ll go keep an eye on the door. Zoe should be here at any moment,” Amber adds.

  I watch them walk away, and then it’s just me and Betty. Which means it’s time for me to face the music and tell her the truth before someone else does.

  Chapter 6

  Violet

  I swear I would never take advantage of your grandson.

  It’s all just a misunderstanding.

  I’m secretly twenty-years-old, but I can’t risk telling anyone the truth.

  “That must have been very traumatic for you,” Betty says gently.

  “Huh?” I gape at her, wondering if she can somehow read my panic-stricken thoughts.

  “Seeing someone break down the door like that. I’m just glad my Liam was here to intervene.”

  “Right. Liam...” My mate. “Betty, there’s something I...”

  That’s as far as I get before a flash of black and white draws my attention to the front door... which looks as good as new. That Zoe really does work fast.

  Then I forget all about the door as I take in the skunk sauntering through it.

  I don’t mean a real skunk, or a skunk shifter. We’re talking giant, human-sized skunk with a large, grinning head, abnormally large feet, and a big, fluffy tail. So basically, a mascot.

  “Do you have a children’s program this afternoon?” Betty asks.

  I’m too busy staring at the giant skunk’s mouth to reply.

  There isn’t anything particularly special about his mouth, mind you. It’s sewn into a perpetual silly grin, and it’s definitely not attractive. Yet one glance at it, and I’m flooded with desire. Desire an eighty-year-old woman has no business feeling... at least not anywhere outside the bedroom.

  Yet it’s also the same sort of desire I felt less than an hour ago, when Liam sauntered through the front door, and I feel it around Nole every single day. What’s going on here?

  I stare at the mascot and wonder if I’ve suddenly developed some sort of skunk fetish. That or I’ve always secretly been a furry.

  But then, why wasn’t I turned on by the giant singing lettuce and tomato duo I hired to teach kids about healthy eating? Is it because I’m only into skunks? Is it a skunk shifter thing, getting aroused by their species’ mascot? Is this happening because I’m in Violet’s skunk shifter body?

  The skunk dances across the foyer, tail swinging, and I desperately try to figure out what it is about him that I’m into. Is it the soft, white fur on his stomach? His round little ears? The white stripe on the inside of his tail?

  It doesn’t make any sense until he gets closer. Close enough for me to finally see it: the mesh netting that makes up his mouth. Which isn’t a mouth at all! It’s actually a screen, and the owner is looking right through it. At me. Which means I got turned on the moment our eyes locked.

  “Why is this happening to me?” I moan.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Betty suddenly sounds as freaked out as I feel. “Don’t tell me that skunk broke the door?”

  “What? No!” Not unless Liam’s hiding beneath that skunk suit.

  That’s it! Liam must have changed into the skunk suit, and now he’s sneaking back into the library in disguise. I haven’t a clue why he’d do that—unless it’s widely known that skunk shifters are into mascots, and I just somehow missed the memo. Is that it? Did he decide the way to an old lady skunk shifter’s heart is through a giant, furry costume? Or is there someone else hidden underneath that suit?

  He starts to cross the remaining distance between us, and my heart pounds wildly in my chest. It’s partly arousal and partly the knowledge that Betty might be about to discover the truth. Not the whole truth, just the part about her grandson being my mate. Unless Liam figured out the chameleon part, too, and that’s the real reason why he’s back.

  “I think I need to sit down,” I mutter, and I do. I really, really do. It has nothing to do with earning ten more points.

  “You do look rather flushed.” Betty rushes around the desk and helps me into a chair. “Should I get you some water?”

  I nod and open my desk drawer, where I stashed away Gwinnie’s—Amber’s—book and where I keep my mug. Betty grabs the latter and rushes off toward the drinking fountain. The minute she’s out of earshot, I turn to Liam. “What are you doing here?”

  “Volunteering with For the Love of Reading,” he practically purrs. He also doesn’t sound anything like Liam. His voice isn’t as deep, or as troll-like. It’s sweet, and soft, and seductive. It also doesn’t sound the least bit familiar.

  Who is he? Why does everything about him turn me on? And what the Chameleon is he talking about—Oh! “
For the Love of Reading! We have a program this afternoon. I completely forgot.”

  I start to stand, which is a slow process that involves me holding onto the desk, but the skunk stops me.

  “Hey, hey, there’s no rush! The program doesn’t start for another hour, I’m just here early in case you needed help setting up.” He reaches across the desk and places one large, furry paw on top of my hand. The fabric is soft, and tingles of arousal travel straight down to my core.

  Suddenly, I want the skunk. On top of me, beneath me, any way I can have him.

  “I’m not a furry!” I cry.

  “You’re not a what?” The skunk grins down at me. Though, to be fair, ‘grin’ is the only facial expression he’s got. Then he reaches for his giant head and takes it off.

  My mouth goes dry. My heart pounds in my ears. My granny panties... let’s just say I’d rather not think about granny panties at a time like this.

  I have to say; the skunk is hot. All tall, dark, and handsome, like some sort of cliche come to life. Black piercing eyes. Brownish-black hair I long to run my fingers through. Perfect, kissable lips. And just the right amount of stubble.

  Another wave of desire courses through me, followed by relief. Thank the Chameleon I’m attracted to the man and not the suit. Except, why now? First Liam, and then this skunk.

  Is it some sort of spell gone wrong? Or have they finally found me and decided to play a game of cat and mouse before going in for the kill? But then, why would Nole, Liam, and this skunk be involved?

  I look around wildly, expecting to spot one of them peeking out from behind a bookshelf. I don’t. All I see are the usual patrons, plus Stacks who’s running around sniffing the carpet.

  “Here you are, Violet.” Betty rushes back with my mug of water and hands it to me.

  “Thanks, Betty.”

  “Violet and Betty.” The skunk smiles. “I’m Colin Stanton-Howe. Cash to my friends. And I can tell you and I are going to be good friends.”

  His flirtatious tone sends my heart racing, even as I fight the urge to roll my eyes at the line.

  “Cash? That’s a rather odd name,” Betty says, and I silently agree. It also sounds somewhat familiar, but I can’t seem to place it.

  Cash shrugs and continues watching me until I start to squirm in my seat. How embarrassing is that?

  “Is there anything we can help you with?” Betty asks pointedly.

  “Actually, I’m right where I want to be.” Cash winks at me, and his tone is full of innuendo that really shouldn’t be there. Especially not when he could give me away.

  “This young man is here for a library program,” I tell Betty. Five points. Take that, Cash the Flirting Skunk.

  “Young man?” Cash snorts.

  “What?”

  “I’m two hundred and... well, I’ve actually lost count.” He shrugs. “I can figure it out, if you’d like. I’m definitely older than you.”

  “You’re two hundred?” I gape at him.

  “And something. At some point, age stops being important, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Before I can shake my head no, Betty nods. “I seldom think about my age,” she says.

  I think about mine all the time, I silently add. Between pretending I’m eighty and constantly being aware I’m actually twenty, age has been on the forefront of my mind for close to a year. Not that I can tell either of them that.

  “You’re a vampire?” I ask Cash instead.

  “Hybrid. Vampire and witch.”

  “So... wampitch?”

  Cash flinches.

  Clearly, I got that one wrong, but unlike my sister, I didn’t go to some fancy supernatural academy. I went to a regular, human school. And the things I’ve learned about supes, I learned from my mother. That or the old books in Spell Library’s Supe section. But I never got around to books about hybrids.

  “We’re called blood mages,” Cash explains.

  “Blood mages? Why not blood witches?”

  “Men prefer to be called mages.”

  “But Julian is a witch,” I point out, then realize that Cash probably has no idea who Julian is. “He owns Jewels Cafe.”

  “I thought that young woman—Amber, was it?—said she owns the cafe.” Betty frowns.

  “They both do... I think?” Better to sound unsure. Like I don’t pay attention to every little detail in Amber and her mates’ life. “But if Julian got turned into a vampire, wouldn’t he be a blood witch?”

  Cash frowns.

  “You know, a blood mage sounds like someone who uses blood to cast spells,” Betty tells him thoughtfully.

  He purses his lips in response.

  I can tell he’s starting to get frustrated, and I fight to hide my grin. I don’t know why I like riling him up, but I do. It gives me a secret thrill, one I don’t often feel, and one I’m enjoying entirely too much.

  “That’s why I suggested wampitch,” I tell Betty, just to mess with him. It works.

  “I am not a wampitch,” Cash growls.

  “If anything, I’d call him a witchire,” Betty says. “That sounds far more distinguished.”

  “A witch-ire?” His eyes narrow.

  “Or a vamage?” I suggest.

  His eyes take on a red tint. I know I should probably be scared—or at the very least, cautious—but something tells me he won’t hurt me. That something better be right.

  “What about a vage?” I suggest, barely containing my grin.

  “A vage?” he snaps in outrage.

  I raise my finger to my lips and shush him.

  Then, I can’t help it, I start to laugh. Maybe it’s the stresses of the day finally catching up to me. Maybe it’s the fact that I really needed a good laugh. Whatever the case, I laugh and laugh until the old heart in my chest hurts... or maybe that’s just my rib cage.

  “What about a blitch?” Betty suddenly asks.

  Right when I think I’ve calmed down, she sets me off again.

  I probably look absolutely crazy, giggling and snorting in the middle of the library. I know I’m causing a scene—I just can’t bring myself to care... or stop. Maybe I am having a nervous breakdown.

  I look up at Cash, expecting to find him scowling at me, but his eyes dance merrily when they meet mine.

  “You know, you’re beautiful when you laugh,” he says softly.

  And that’s all it takes to stop my laughter, cold.

  “You shouldn’t tease an old lady,” I snap. There. Ten points.

  And hopefully enough to nip whatever he’s up to in the bud. Twenty points. Not that they count since I didn’t voice the thought aloud. Although, maybe it should. At least it’s a good reminder to start acting my age—old Violet’s age—before someone finds out the truth.

  Chapter 7

  Cash

  “I wasn’t teasing,” I tell Violet gently. She doesn’t look like she believes me, but it’s the truth.

  I’ve spent hundreds of years searching for her... my mate. Not the thirty or forty years some humans spend. Not even fifty or sixty. It’s been three times that, and in all those years, I never gave up hope.

  I traveled the world. I lived in every supernatural town. I’ve been to every continent. I visited human towns and combed human cities. For years, I’ve searched, and searched, and searched... and to think, I almost missed her. My Violet.

  I inhale her scent, and relief floods my veins. Because I can smell it on her, smell time ticking away. If I hadn’t moved to Silver Springs when I did, it may have been too late. And if I hadn’t signed up as a volunteer with For the Love of Reading, I may have lost her before I’d even found her.

  I let my eyes roam over her, memorizing every detail. And I swear, I have never met a woman more wonderful, more precious... or more annoyed with me.

  “I’m old enough to be your grandmother,” Violet snaps, censure dripping from her voice.

  “I’m over two hundred, remember?” I shrug. Why is it that mortals—even supernatural mortals—always i
nsist on being bound by age constraints?

  “Look at me, Cash.” Violet gestures between us. “And look at you.”

  “I am looking. And what I see is a fun, beautiful, mischievous woman I want to get to know.”

  “Mischievous?” She looks absolutely aghast.

  “I meant it as a compliment.” I wink.

  Her pulse spikes in response. I can smell it. Hear it. And the vampire side of me glows with satisfaction.

  “Violet, you could be a thousand for all I care. If I weren’t born a blood mage, I’d be... well... a pile of bones and ash, I suppose. But before that, I’d look your age... assuming I lived that long. Few humans survived past fifty back then, if that.”

  “Well, you look twenty-five,” Violet insists, as if it somehow makes a difference.

  “I would have guessed eighteen,” Betty says.

  “Again, over two hundred.” I frown, trying to figure out if Violet’s friend is messing with me. She’s impossible to read, but between this and suggesting a blood mage should be called a blitch, she can’t possibly be serious. “Plus, age is just a number.”

  I just have to convince Violet of that first... before she realizes if she’s not too old, then I am.

  “Cash is right,” Betty surprises me by saying. “What really matters is who you are on the inside.”

  “Exactly! And I don’t care how old you look, Violet.”

  Why would gray hair and a few wrinkles make a lick of difference when I can turn her? I just have to win her over first. Seduce her. Do whatever it takes to prove to her that we’re meant to be.

  I wish I could take my time, take things slow, but at her age, I have no choice. I have to make her mine before it’s too late.

  “Well, I care!” Violet snaps.

  I kind of like it. Not her protests or her rising panic, but her spirit. I like the fire in her eyes. I even like her cat-eye glasses. And I know I’ll like the real Violet—who she is deep down—once I get to know her. I have trust in our mating bond and the fact that we’re meant to be.

  “I just want to spend time with you,” I tell her gently. “Maybe after the program’s done, we could grab lunch?”