by Jackie May
Instead of blushing and feeling vulnerable, a sense of surety washes over me, forcing me to calm down. “There are exactly two people in this world I trust with my life—you and Terrance. I’d feel safer with you here.”
Oliver responds by smiling softly and taking off his shoes. He turns out the light and then lies down on the other side of my bed on top of the covers. I’m grateful he’s staying, but I’m even gladder that he knows me well enough to know exactly how to make me comfortable without me having to say it.
“Thanks, Ollie,” I whisper into the dark.
There’s a smile in his reply. “Good night, Nora.”
. . . . .
I wake up the next afternoon to Oliver bringing me breakfast in bed. Well, breakfast food, anyway. Technically, it’s more like lunch in bed. “My hero,” I say as I sit up with a big stretch and a yawn.
“What? This is mine,” Oliver teases as he sits down on the side of the bed he slept on with the tray of food in his lap. “Go get your own.”
He sticks a crispy piece of bacon in his mouth before he finally sets the tray on the bed between us. There are two plates piled high with food on the tray. My mouth waters as the smell of strawberry pancakes, eggs, ham, and bacon hit my nose. The man really is my hero.
While I go to town on all the delicious food, Oliver props himself up against the headboard, crosses his feet at his ankles, and grabs the TV remote from the night table. “I called in sick from work this evening, so we have a full twenty-four hours to lay in bed like slugs, binge watching every episode of Stranger Things.”
I laugh at that. You’d think with fantasy being reality for us, we’d prefer normal television, but we’re both paranormal geeks at heart.
Ollie doesn’t turn the TV on right away. Instead, we eat in silence until he clears his throat and says, “So…Parker was awfully worried about you last night.”
I cast him a sideways glance to let him know I’m not thrilled with the direction of this conversation. “Parker is a worrier. He’s like that with everyone.”
Oliver snorts. “Nice try. He may care about his clan, but he’s Henry’s chief enforcer because he has the ability to be cold and ruthless when he needs to be. I’ve seen it. The concern he shows you is different.”
“Yeah, because he feels guilty since it’s his clan always trying to hurt me, and he’s the one responsible for bringing me fully into the underworld.”
Oliver rolls his eyes. “It’s more than that, and you know it. I’ve never seen someone look at a woman the way he looks at you.”
I glare at Oliver, but he’s right, and he holds my gaze steady in his. I break first. “Fine.” I sigh. “Parker has an infatuation. I know it, but nothing’s going to come of it, so there’s no point in talking about it.”
Oliver is quiet for a long minute, then quietly asks what’s been on his mind since last night. “So, you’re not interested?”
That’s a question I’ve been skirting since I met Parker, because the answer is too complicated, but Oliver’s not going to let me off the hook with some bogus crap this time. I throw my head back against the headboard and groan at the ceiling. “It wouldn’t matter even if I was, which I’m not sure I am. He’s attractive and nice, but I’m too screwed up to get into a relationship, and his feelings for me aren’t real. He’s just affected by my curse.”
Oliver frowns, but I’m not sure which part of that he’s frowning at, so I say nothing. He moves the empty breakfast tray out of the way and turns to face me. “What curse?”
Okay, so I knew which part of that he was frowning at. I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to explain it to him. I cringe beneath the weight of his stare and give in. “There’s something different about me that draws people in.”
Oliver smiles wryly. “Could it be that you’re beautiful, smart, friendly, compassionate, loyal, and brave?”
I resist the urge to deny all of his compliments. I know he means them, even if I don’t feel deserving of his praise. “That’s not it. I mean, I put men under some kind of spell, until their fascination with me becomes obsession. Like with Henry. It’s happened all my life.”
I shake my head and interrupt Oliver when he starts to argue. “Think about it. Henry, Parker, Wulf, and Rook. Nick. Terrance.”
Oliver frowns again, this time seeing my point and having a hard time denying it.
“I think it has something to do with what I am.”
“What you are?”
I shrug. “Everyone’s always talking about me having underworlder blood. I have gifts that humans don’t have. Maybe I’m some weird human/underworlder hybrid. But whatever it is, I can’t get into a relationship when I know the guy only likes me because of my curse.”
Oliver’s face falls flat. “I don’t think that’s the only reason Parker likes you.”
“Parker doesn’t know me. He can’t like me. Parker wants me. There’s a difference. And with my history, there’s no way I’m getting involved with someone who’s only interested in sex. I can’t. If I’m ever able to go there with someone, and that’s a pretty big if, it’s going to have to be someone I trust implicitly and who I know isn’t going to lose control of themselves—which is what people tend to do when I return their attraction. My weird allure kicks into overdrive. It’s like when Cecile or Ren turns up their sex mojo. People can’t help themselves. They aren’t themselves.”
Oliver sits there for a minute, processing what I’ve just told him. Eventually, he nods. “Perhaps there’s something there. Maybe you do have some kind of unknown power of attraction. But I’m sure that’s not always the case. It is possible for someone to like you, not because of some supernatural power, but because of you. There’s so much about you for people to like.”
A lump forms in my throat. He’s talking about himself, and we both know it. I don’t know what to say. I adore him, but he’s just as influenced as anyone. “Oliver…”
He gives me a crooked smile and shakes his head, denying the thoughts he knows I’m thinking. “I know you, Nora. I’ve known you for years. And I was never around you, so it couldn’t have been some curse affecting me. You’re just special. You’re so strong. You’re beautiful and smart. You’re a survivor.”
He takes a risk and pushes my hair behind my ear, letting his fingers graze my cheek. The rare skin-to-skin contact raises goose bumps on my arms and makes me shiver. The thought I catch when he touches me is tender. I wish I could make her see. She deserves so much more than she allows herself.
My eyes start to sting, and I press my hand against the burning in my chest. “Ollie,” I murmur.
He gives me a soft smile and takes my hand in his. I love you. The thought is so direct I wonder if he’s just thinking it or if he’s sending it to me on purpose. My stomach flips, and a half-crazed sob bubbles up from my chest. For once I don’t pull away. I don’t want to let go. His feelings aren’t lust-filled. They’re tender and comforting. They feel sincere.
“The things I think about you—feel for you—it’s because of who you are,” he insists softly. “And I think, deep down, you believe that, or you’d never be able to trust me the way you do.”
Tears spill from my eyes. I quickly swipe them away and take a deep breath to get control of myself. I’m so not a crier, but I’ve never felt such pure feelings or heard such beautiful, sincere thoughts. “I do believe you,” I promise, sniffling. “I just can’t…I don’t know how to…I’m too broken.”
The loving smile never leaves his face. “I know, Nora.” In a rather bold move, he pulls me into his lap and cradles me against his chest, resting his chin on the top of my head. I close my eyes and soak up the affection being offered to me. I’ve never been held before. Not since my mother used to comfort me when I was little.
He wraps his arms around me tightly and leans us back against the headboard. I can still hear his thoughts, but they’re absentminded. He’s simply enjoying this moment, the same as I am. His sorcerer community was cruel to him for years
because he wouldn’t use his magic. His family disowned him, kicked him out as soon as he turned eighteen, and turned their backs on him. He’s as alone as me and loves our unique relationship as much as I do. He doesn’t need more than this right now. He’s healing from his own experiences as much as I am.
I let out a deep breath and relax against him. “I love you, too, Ollie.”
He drops a small kiss on the top of my head in response and reaches for the remote. “What do you think? Stranger Things, The Walking Dead, or Game of Thrones?”
I grin and snuggle deeper into his hold. “You choose.”
I get a nice glare from Rook when I show up to the compound clubhouse on Wednesday afternoon. He wasn’t expecting me, so I start my warm-up without him, knowing that the gossiping wolves will tell him I’m here. I get one slow lap in before the angry werewolf plants himself in front of me. “What are you doing here?”
I knew he wouldn’t be happy, but I don’t care. “I came for training,” I say stubbornly. “You said three times a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday. It’s Wednesday. I’m ready for my first session.”
He’s not amused. “No,” he growls. “No way. You were nearly drained Sunday night. Wulf told me. You’re supposed to rest for a whole week. We are not training today.”
“But Enzo healed me, and I feel fine. I’ve done nothing but lie around for almost three days now. Can’t we just do a little?”
Rook crosses his arms over his chest and keeps up his glare. “No.”
I go for a pout. It’s low, but I can’t help it. “Aw, come on, Rook. I had to get out of the house. I was going crazy. And besides, my attackers aren’t going to wait for me to recover, so neither should I.”
He growls at me—a real snarl—then scrubs a hand over his face, muttering unintelligible things to himself. He sucks in a sharp breath, then lets it out in a huff, eyeing me as if measuring my determination. “You use that move I showed you when you were attacked?” he asks.
“I couldn’t. I was attacked from behind this time.”
He sighs. “Fine. We’ll work on that next.” When I clap, he glares again. “Next week.”
“But—”
“NO BUTS, NORA. You are not training this week. Do you want to kill yourself? You may think you feel fine, but your body needs time to recover and regenerate.”
I get what he’s saying, but I honestly do feel fine. I’m not just saying that. I feel like I’ve been speed healing. I’m stronger today, recovered. I can’t explain it, but I swear I’ve healed. Still, there will be no convincing Rook.
“Fine. No training. I guess I’ll see you next week.”
I stomp out of the gym. I’m being a brat, but I can’t help it. I was almost killed twice, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. That’s not a great feeling.
I don’t get far before Rook calls out to me. “Nora, wait.”
I whirl around, hopeful. “Yes?”
Rook is staring at me, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, you’re already here,” he says. I think this means he’s giving in, and my face lights up. “Damn it, woman, don’t look at me like that. We’re not training.” And cue my face fall…and his sigh. “I was just going to say that since you’re here, you might as well stay for a while. If you want, we can walk—slowly—over to my place, and I’ll cook you a steak.”
Every wolf in the gym—and there are a large handful—gasps. I frown at all their gawking. Why is that so weird? Is it because I’m human? Wulf said shifters generally like humans. And it’s true they aren’t glaring—well, one woman is—but the other men aren’t. They’re just shocked. I decide to ignore them, and I pat my stomach. “Thanks. I could use the walk, but you don’t have to cook for me. I already ate lunch.”
Rook smiles, seeing that I’ve given up my pouting. “You need the protein. Think you can eat more?”
Well, if he’s going to continue to offer… I grin. “I can always eat more. Especially if it’s a nice, juicy steak.”
He matches my smile and cocks his head toward the gym exit. I fall into step beside him, and we both ignore the stares as we head out of the clubhouse at a casual stroll.
Rook passes me his track jacket the second we set foot outside. He’d told me to come for my sessions in shorts and a sports bra so that I could move easier and he could see the way I was moving my body. He swore it was a training thing. But I flat-out refused, and we compromised on stretchy yoga pants and a clingy T-shirt, so that’s what I’m wearing right now. I accept his jacket happily and zip it up to my chin.
It’s a nice day—sunny—but it’s a little chilly. Fall is in full swing, and if Michigan has a best quality, it’s fall. The air is crisp, and the trees are in full autumn bloom. The entire compound is a canvas of vibrant greens, oranges, yellows, and reds.
The walk is revitalizing, and just what I need. Rook must see how much I’m enjoying myself, because he walks in silence, allowing me to take it all in. He’s a very comfortable walking companion.
In the silence, my phone chimes at me. I have a feeling I know who it is, and I don’t want to talk to him, so I ignore it. Rook cuts me a sideways glance, and I just shrug. He lets it go without comment.
We pass through most of the community, and the gasps, stares, and whispers keep coming from every wolf we pass. You’d think they’ve never seen Rook with a girl before, but the guy is freaking hot. And nice. And dominant. Which I know is big in the werewolf world. Wulf claimed Rook doesn’t date, but I have a hard time believing he never dates.
Rook lives on the very outskirts of the community next to the river and up against the park. His home is a modest one-story, light gray with blue trim and shutters, and he has a sprawling lawn. There are no fenced yards in the compound, so I can see a giant wooden deck built off the back of the house that wraps around the side.
Instead of going inside, he leads me around the side of the house and up the steps onto the deck. I whistle. The deck is huge and has a view of both the river and the park. He’s got a grill and a patio table in one corner and a set of couches around a built-in fire pit. It’s a nice deck. “Wow. You’ve got quite the spread here.”
He grins, not a shred of humility. “Thanks. I built it myself. I don’t like to be indoors much.”
“You built this?”
Now he does shrug modestly. “I’m good with tools.”
He turns on the grill and then disappears into the house through a wide sliding glass door. I take a seat on one of the couches, and seconds later he calls out, “I have red wine, beer, Coke, milk, and water.”
“Water or Coke is fine, thanks!”
“The fire pit’s gas. There’s a switch on the side, if you want a fire.”
I’ve never seen an actual gas fireplace, so I turn on the fire. I can’t believe it dances to life literally as easy as the flip of a switch. It’s somehow not warm the way a wood fire is, and it doesn’t smell like one, but it’s still pretty, so I sit back and stare into the flames.
My phone dings again. I break down and look at the messages. Sure enough, they’re both from Parker.
Parker: I understand you’re angry with my clan, but I really need to speak with you. Will you at least call me?
Parker: If you’re ignoring me because of Josephine, please remember she was one vampire out of many. Nora, what can I do to make this right? Please tell me.
I sigh. He doesn’t deserve to be ignored like this. Losing the battle with my conscience, I respond.
Nora: I’m sorry. It has nothing to do with Henry or Josephine. I don’t blame you for their actions. I just don’t think us seeing each other is a good idea. You want more from me than I can give you.
He answers immediately.
Parker: You want it, too; you’re just scared. You don’t need to be afraid of me. I would never hurt you.
I’m not afraid of him hurting me. Not exactly. I’m afraid of losing control with him.
A long whistle over my shoulder makes me nearly jump out of my sk
in. “Rook!” I drop my phone in my lap and quickly scoop it back up. “Shit! You scared the crap out of me!”
The man is leaning over the couch behind me, shamelessly reading my texts. He’s got a couple of Cokes in one hand and a plate with two steaks on it in the other. I pull my phone to my chest and glare at him. “Nosy much?”
Rook laughs. “Yes.” He hands me one of the Cokes and cheerfully says, “Who’s Parker? I thought you didn’t date,” as he makes his way to the grill.
“He’s a vampire in the Detroit clan. And I don’t date. Hence, the slightly desperate texts. I don’t think he’s ever been turned down before. He doesn’t seem to know how to give up.”
“Parker…Parker…” After placing the steaks on the grill, he turns around to face me with wide eyes and a gaping jaw. “Parker Reed? Henry Stadther’s chief enforcer?”
I nod. “That would be the one.”
He whistles again.
“Tell me about it.”
While he’s still blinking in disbelief, I finally notice the apron he’s wearing. It says All this…and I can cook, too. I laugh, and when I point at the apron, Rook looks down at his chest and rolls his eyes. He stares me down for a minute, as if debating whether to let me change the subject, but then, thankfully, lets the topic of Parker drop. “It was a Christmas gift from Wulf one year. That man is worse than a meddlesome old lady. He’s determined to see me mated off. Never mind that he’s so scared of pack females he’d rather live as a lone wolf in the city.”
I smile at that. True, Wulf often rants about the pushiness and clinginess of pack females, but it seemed to me the last time I was here that romance isn’t the only thing Wulf dislikes about pack living. “Aw, I think Wulf’s happy living the way he does. He really does strike me as a bit of a lone wolf. You should have seen him on the drive here the other day.”
“I’m sure.” Rook shakes his head with a chuckle. “I can’t believe he came back.”
Rook snaps his mouth shut and turns to the grill, as if suddenly remembering that setting him up with me was the reason for Wulf’s return. I try to break the awkward silence.