by N. D. Jones
Sanura continued speaking, filling the silence with her rambling, then wondered why she was nervous and acting like a woman in a love triangle. She’d only just met Assefa, and they weren’t officially dating. Nor was she still involved with Richard. This was stupid. She was being stupid.
The men grumbled something that Sanura couldn’t quite make out, and honestly, based on the hard glares passing between them, she’d rather not know.
Assefa looked dangerous in his custom-made suit, the jacket perfectly covering his sidearm, no lump or bulge to reveal what lay beneath. But it was there, she knew, the agent was on duty and would have his weapon on him. But Assefa was a weapon with or without a gun. Claws and fangs. Yet the concealed gun posed no true threat to Richard. Assefa was the real threat, his dignified calm scarier than a big cat’s roar of possession, of marking, and of claiming, none of which he’d done to her.
Did she want him to? Was that what she truly desired? To be marked by his beast? And would his beast be strong enough to accept her own? To get close to the fire and not fear it…fear me?
“Sanura, I was hoping to speak with you, but I see you’re busy,” Richard finally managed to say. “Maybe we could talk over dinner tonight? I could make reservations at your favorite restaurant. We could go dancing afterwards if you like. I remember how much you like to dance. How well we danced together.” It was a hopeful, if not arrogant, request. Richard’s eyes slid to Assefa and then back to her, a proprietary gleam that leisurely swept over her.
Sanura narrowed her gaze at Richard, not appreciating what he was attempting to do. Yet, before she could think of a polite way to decline and prevent Richard from further antagonizing a man who could rip his throat out with one well-placed swipe, Assefa whispered a quick, “Don’t let me interrupt. I’ll see myself out,” in Sanura’s ear. No, no, no, that wasn’t what she wanted, but Assefa was already handing her the satchel he’d been holding for her. She wanted to say something to him, wanted to replace the ice wafting from his aura with the heat they’d shared only five minutes before.
But she said nothing, just stood there numbly and watched as Assefa walked up the stairs and out of the lecture hall, as quietly as he’d entered. He’d driven to College Park to see her and hadn’t even had a chance to tell her why, and now he was gone. And the special agent had taken something with him, something fragile and new and wholly unexpected.
But he had left. Assefa had taken one look at Richard and had turned into an unemotional slab of marble. Territorial by nature, were-cats ceded to no one not unless it was in their best interest to do so, or they had no true stake in the claim. Perhaps the special agent had no real interest in pursuing a witch who dated full-human males. A full-human male, like Richard, who’d just deliberately taunted Assefa with their past relationship, implying that perhaps it wasn’t past at all.
Angry, Sanura swung her gaze back to a smugly smiling Richard. “What can I do for you, Professor Houghton, that couldn’t be accomplished with a phone call?” And it was all there, in Richard’s pompous gaze. She’d been such a fool. Should’ve listened to Mom and Cyn. And, damn it, I shouldn’t have let Assefa walk out of here thinking there is something more between me and Richard than there actually is. Glaring up at Richard, Sanura could no longer deny the source of the barrier she’d erected around her heart, keeping fear in and Assefa out.
“Don’t be angry, Sanura. I only wanted to talk with you, and I didn’t think what I had to say should be said over the phone. In-person is always the best approach for these things, especially since you haven’t found the time to return not one of my phone calls.”
No, she hadn’t. If Richard hadn’t shown up today, Sanura would’ve continued to avoid the man and his calls. Why in the hell has he been calling me anyway? Guess I’ll find out, whether I want to or not.
“What things? We haven’t spoken in months and suddenly you want to talk. If I remember correctly, you are the one who decided we shouldn’t speak anymore. In fact,” she said bitterly, “you were the one who decided we shouldn’t do anything together anymore.”
Richard seemed to shift uncomfortably at having his sentiments returned to him, but his words were milder than Sanura’s when he next spoke. “I know what I said, but I regret my decision to break up with you. I wasn’t thinking straight when I made that decision. I’ve spent the last few months kicking myself for being such a dumbass.”
Sanura had spent the last ten months trying to forget about the man standing before her. She’d analyzed their entire relationship, regretting her choice to be honest with him about who and what she was. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She suddenly felt weak and hurriedly found a chair to sit in before her legs betrayed her.
Richard followed, sitting next to Sanura and taking her hands in his. They were soft and long like that of a pianist—delicate and fine, whereas Assefa’s hands were large and hardened with old and healing calluses. The type of hands that could tend soil, hold a gun, or soothe a woman’s fragile heart, fiery spirit.
“I’m sorry I overreacted.” Richard rubbed a thumb over the back of Sanura’s hand, the gesture sweet but far too late. “I wasn’t prepared for what you told or showed me, and I responded badly. I’ve had time to process it since then, and now know that I have what it takes to make it work. We may be different, but we’re alike in ways that matter.”
The right words, but she remembered the horrified look in his eyes when she told him she was a witch. Like I was a crazed monster who ate little children for dessert. Sanura snatched her hands away, the same as he’d done her when she’d reached for him, trying to convince Richard that being a witch was as normal as being a full-human. That she wasn’t evil or hurt people with her magic. But he didn’t believe her, his words of, “I don’t think I can handle being in a relationship with a person like you,” stinging Sanura to her core, shredding any illusions she had of being accepted. Too different. I’m not even a normal witch.
“Please forgive me, Sanura. I shouldn’t have broken up with you over something so unimportant.”
Her mind was whirling, but she heard Richard clearly, the desperation in his voice, the lack of understanding in his words. “Unimportant?” she repeated in a low, angry voice. He had no clue what his rejection had done to her. How hard it had been for Sanura to reveal her secret to a full-human, baring herself for him to see and judge. And reject. And now he had the nerve to call it unimportant. More upset than was healthy, for either of them, she stood, retrieved her satchel, and started up the stairs, intending to get as far away from Richard Houghton as possible.
Richard scrambled to his feet and rushed after her. “Come on, Sanura, I said I was sorry. Won’t you forgive me this one thing? I know it’ll take time, but the least you could do is say something.”
Sanura spun on her heels to face her former lover. “Trust me, my silence is far nicer than what I actually want to say to you. You don’t get it, and I won’t waste my breath trying to explain it to you.” She walked out of the lecture hall, hoping he wouldn’t follow but knowing he would.
“Sanura, don’t be like that.” Richard’s long strides made it easy for him to keep up with her.
Not wanting to make a scene now that they were in public, Sanura stopped. She’d run from this for too long, and the psychologist in her knew what had to be done. She turned and faced her past.
“Damn you, Richard, I was in love with you, thought I knew your soul. I trusted you. I’ve never trusted any man other than my father and Mike, certainly not a full-human. But you trampled all over the trust and love I gave so freely. I can handle a man not wanting to date me. But what truly hurt was being rejected by the man I loved for simply being me. What you call unimportant is who I am. I broke one of the most cardinal rules of my people by revealing my true identity to someone outside of our society.”
And her mother had been royally pissed at Sanura, angrier than she’d ever seen Makena Williams. According to their rules, Makena should’ve reported Sanura to
the Witch Council of Elders. She should’ve been punished and Richard’s mind magically wiped of the memory. But Makena had kept her daughter’s secret. For as much of a stickler of rules the judge may be, Makena Williams would permit no one to sanction her daughter. Not even the women who governed them. So Sanura was able to keep her shameful secret and Richard his memories. And that was a kindness for both of them, for a magical mind wipe wasn’t so precise as to remove a single memory. No, it took chunks, no less than six months. Sanura would’ve gladly taken her punishment, but why should Richard suffer for her misplaced trust and poor judge of character?
With unshed tears, she admitted, “As much as I believe in forgiveness, I can never forgive you. And I will never forget the look on your face when you walked away from me, from us.”
“Is this about that agent?” Richard asked as if he hadn’t heard a word Sanura had just spoken. “I know that type of guy. He’s attractive and probably has a horde of women running after him. Those guys don’t care about women beyond the joy of the chase and the conquest. They use women and discard them like trash once they’ve had their fill.”
“Like you did me?” Sanura shot back with an anger that told her she needed to calm down. Her loud response garnered them a few glances from passersby. She ignored them, not caring what they thought. She knew she would later, but not now. “You know nothing about Assefa, and don’t insult me by presuming the only reason I don’t want to rekindle a relationship with you is because of another man. If you’d come to me two weeks ago, before I met Assefa, with the same attitude and misguided thoughts, my reaction would’ve been the same.”
“But—”
“No, Richard, this time I will make the decision, and I’ve decided you were right all those months ago. We’re not suited for each other. You did me a favor, but I was too blinded by love, or too stupid, to realize. But now I see the truth as clearly as I see you. It’s over. Don’t come see me again. Don’t call me. Just pretend we never happened.”
Sanura walked away from a stunned Richard, a weight slowly lifting off her shoulders. She smiled. The sun was out, and she had only one more class to teach today. But that wasn’t until two o’clock. It was a beautiful spring day, and she was ready for lunch. If only her special agent had stuck around, she would’ve liked to have had lunch with him. Sanura’s smile dimmed then, the sun suddenly not as bright, as warm, as restorative. And she couldn’t help but wonder when or if she would see Assefa again.
He’d waited too long. Dammit, Richard had waited too long to set things right with Sanura. He slammed his office door shut, still seeing Sanura’s back when she’d stalked away from him. Away from me, as if she’s the Queen of Sheba. Like I’m nothing but a lowly fuckin’ human not worthy of her witch time.
A second chance. Yeah, that was all Richard had wanted. He’d messed things up with Sanura, he knew. But he’d wanted to give her space, time to calm down and get past the hurt before he sought her out. Hell, for a minute there, he’d considered begging the woman to take him back. Won’t beg. Refuse to beg some stuck-up bitch to take me back.
Then there was the special agent. The man oozed money and contempt. He’d need to be careful there. His eyes radiated danger. Richard knew the look. Know it too well. But he wasn’t done with Dr. Sanura Williams yet. Not even close.
Richard pushed his desk chair aside, cursing the day Sanura had made her big reveal. A goddamn witch. He’d had no idea. They’d dated for months, and Richard had no clue. The woman sure knows how to keep a secret. And what a secret.
But he’d played it cool, showed the appropriate amount of shock, even revulsion. Now, however, Richard knew he’d overdone the whole what-the-fuck-you’re-not-quite-human response. Yeah, definitely over the top.
He should just let her be. Leave Sanura to her coven and her GQ special agent.
Richard slumped in his chair, head going back and reclining against the worn leather. Can’t let her go.
No, he couldn’t. Should’ve never broken up with her. Mistake. Big mistake.
He closed his eyes, a slow throb beginning to pulse in his head. The warning thump always came first, followed by a stronger, more insistent thud, and ended with an excruciating screech for relief. Always needing relief. Too much. Never-ending.
Richard leaned forward and opened the long center drawer of his desk. He rummaged through the desk, shuffling papers and pens, moving aside old flash drives and even older granola bars. Gotta be in here some—ah, here it is.
He lifted the red-and-white bottle of aspirin, the paltry weight a pathetic reminder of his painful and odious fate. Richard thumbed the top off, popped three pills straight from the bottle into his mouth, and swallowed the capsules dry. Frustrated, he threw the empty bottle across the room and at—
“Something bothering you, Dr. Houghton?”
Richard’s head snapped up. Special Agent Berber filled Richard’s doorway, the tiny red-and-white bottle in his large hand, the man’s face as stern and intimidating as his voice. Oh, but Richard so did not need to have the FBI on his doorstep. Not good. Not good at all.
Richard swallowed hard, not liking that the man had apparently followed him to his office. Nor the fact that his too-large frame had just casually slid inside the room, closing the brown, wooden door silently behind him as if he was an invited guest.
He was not. What in the hell does he want?
Unwilling to be cowed in his own damn office, Richard stood, legs shaky but doing their job. “I didn’t hear you knock, Agent Berber.”
The man moved deeper into the office, his cold, dark eyes unblinking and focused entirely on Richard. Oh, yes, definitely dangerous.
“That’s because I didn’t.”
Of course, he hadn’t, but Richard should’ve heard something. A footstep. The turning of the knob. Something. Quiet, sneaky bastard.
Recalling they were in his domain and that he was a respected professor, Richard squared his shoulders, told his heart to slow the hell down, and returned the agent’s unwavering gaze. “If you’re looking for Sanura”—he gestured to the shoebox office— “as you can see, she isn’t here.” Richard gave the agent his best insincere smile. “But I’ll be sure to let her know you were looking for her when I see Sanura for our dinner date tonight.”
The lie rolled easily off his tongue. But, of course, they always did.
Then it was the agent who smiled—dark, hostile, and all too knowing. Like Richard’s fake smile a moment ago, it did not reach Agent Berber’s eyes. It was then Richard realized that he’d underestimated the man. Dangerous wasn’t a strong enough word. Not nearly.
Lethal. Yeah, definitely that. Got to be careful.
The agent moved even closer, the wooden desk all that stood between Richard and the deadly predator. And Richard knew a predator when he saw one. Paltry as it was, Richard had never been so grateful for an old piece of furniture in his life.
Agent Berber shook his head before saying with too much certainty, “You’re lying.” Those dark eyes narrowed. “Try to refrain from doing that again.” One large hand landed palm-down on the desk, a soft but resolute movement. “I really don’t enjoy such games. A waste of time.”
The migraine thudded painfully now. Richard had things to do, things that didn’t involve an impromptu FBI interrogation. Play it cool. Just answer the man’s questions, so he can leave.
“What can I do for you, Agent Berber?”
“You can start by telling me what you want from Sanura Williams.”
Ah, personal, not FBI business. Good. Richard laughed. “I think that’s pretty obvious but also very personal.”
The agent didn’t move, didn’t speak, just continued to stare at Richard, obviously no intention of leaving just yet. Okay. Richard shrugged. “If you must know, Sanura and I used to have a thing. We were in a relationship until I screwed it up.”
“You want her back.” His words weren’t a question but a grittily enunciated statement of fact. Hell yes, Richard wanted S
anura back. He’d waited a long time for a woman like her, a woman who could understand a man like him and his unique heritage. “But she doesn’t want you back.”
Their gazes held, and for the first time since the agent entered his office, Richard sensed the tiniest bit of self-doubt. Good. Chew on that, you big bastard.
Another shrug. “She’ll come around. I’m a patient man, Agent Berber. She’s a special lady, but I’m sure you know that already.”
No response, not a twitch of the lips, flared nostrils, balled fists, or stiffening of the back, nothing but those damned black eyes of his, relentless in their unforgiving appraisal. Shit.
“What are you hiding, Dr. Houghton?”
W-what?
“Not hiding anything, agent, I’m just a man who messed things up with his lady. I want her back, so I guess I’ll have to do a bit of groveling.” Richard hoped he sounded casual, nonchalant even. “You know how women like to make us jump through their damn hoops just to get them into bed.”
Damn, did he just growl at me? What in the hell did I say to piss him off?
“Sanura Williams isn’t for you, Houghton.”
Stern. Final.
“And I guess she’s for you?” Hell no, asshole, she’s mine.
The agent leaned over the desk, his face too damn close for comfort, that growl coming again, low but there. “She was made for me.”
No, Sanura wasn’t. She was Richard’s. But the agent’s frosty, onyx eyes dared Richard to contradict him.
He didn’t. Richard hadn’t made it this far being stupid. And to challenge the special agent right now would’ve been undeniably foolhardy. No, like he’d told Berber, Richard could be very patient.
Agent Berber walked toward the door—finally—but turned back to Richard, hand on the doorknob.