by Nicole Hall
Seven days of his best behavior, and Dax couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Day eight looked to be the same as the others. After breakfast, he’d closed himself with the computers in Alex’s office to try to get some work done, but his mind kept wandering to the seal locked in the safe. He leaned back in the leather chair and examined the fruit painting. It really was ugly.
Calliope had leaked that Lindsey couldn’t conjure even a tiny glow, but she’d done it without trying when she was near the seal. He knew the idea scared her, but maybe all she needed was a little boost. It would be hard to learn control if she couldn’t get the magic to work in the first place.
He glanced at his watch and decided to grab an early lunch. Really early. More of a brunch. Another couple of minutes got him to a good stopping point. The protocol for locking the computers only took a few seconds, then he was free to meander the long way to the kitchen. Maybe Lindsey would also be interested in an early brunch.
Dax shook his head at the mental gymnastics. He’d never resorted to borderline stalking before. How did other creepy, obsessed guys excuse their behavior?
Lindsey and Calliope had taken over the front room for their lessons, which as far as he could tell when he walked by, consisted of sitting on the couch and staring into space. Sabine had a desk in there for when she worked at home, but she rarely used it. Alex threatened at least once a week to knock down the walls to the “useless sitting room” and create a huge open space.
Dax didn’t give a crap about floor plans, but the lack of a door made it convenient for him to catch glimpses of Lindsey throughout the day when he emerged from the nerd cave. Another point in the quasi-stalker column. The easy distraction made it hard to concentrate, but he suspected Alex hadn’t expected him to get any actual work done this summer.
Lindsey sat on Alex’s old couch with her eyes closed. Calliope curled up next to her in a bright sun spot. The scene made him hesitate. His idea had merit, but Lindsey looked like she was asleep.
He cleared his throat, but neither of them moved. Since he’d announced his presence and Lindsey couldn’t see him, he let his gaze wander. She wore cargo pants with paint and oil stains all over them, unusual for her. The tight, blue tank top he’d seen before, but that didn’t mean he appreciated it any less.
By the time he reached her face, Lindsey watched him with a raised brow, but Dax noticed her erratic breathing. She wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to believe.
“What do you need, Dax?” Lindsey’s voice caused Calliope to raised her head off her paws.
“I had an idea.”
A smile flashed across her lips. “I’m still not interested in a rematch for the towel.”
The memory of Lindsey pressed against him as she reached up for the fabric blazed through his mind. He’d suggested a rematch now that her shoulder had healed, but she wanted to go out on top. Hell, he’d let her win if it meant a repeat of that moment by the hot tub.
Dax grinned. “Because you know I’d take you.”
She tilted her head and gave a little shrug. “We’ll never find out.”
Calliope yawned and jumped off the couch to stroll past Dax’s legs. I could use a break. Let me know when you’re done flirting.
“Don’t hold your breath.” Dax waited until she’d disappeared up the stairs to mention his suggestion. For some reason, he didn’t think Calliope would like them messing with the magic around the seal. Especially now that they knew the “bubble” they’d felt was actually a protective measure created by Calliope to keep the seal’s magic contained.
“Why didn’t you want her to hear your idea?” Lindsey asked.
Dax came into the room and lowered his voice. “Because she doesn’t like us touching the seal.”
Lindsey shot up from the couch. “She’s not the only one.”
“Hear me out. You have to get your magic to turn on to figure out how to use it. The seal’s magic helped you do that.”
“That’s precisely why I can’t use it. If I can activate it, then I can deactivate it too. If the seal revs me up, we’re gambling that I can stop it before something gets permanently destroyed.”
The regret in her voice tore at him, but he wanted her to think it through instead of reacting out of fear. “Calliope would be right there to help you. Maybe you could finally get something out of all this training.”
Lindsey shook her head. “Not worth it. It’s too dangerous, Dax.” She shoved at her hair then paced to the window and back.
Dax would have argued more—if for nothing else besides the joy of matching wits with her—but he noticed a dim glow emanating from her hand. Her brow furrowed and followed his line of sight, then flinched at the abnormal light.
Like he had the day with the stove, Dax strode forward and closed his fingers around her wrist. The orange glow coalesced into flames. Small licks of fire covered her palm, but Dax didn’t let go.
Lindsey whimpered and fought to take shallow breaths, tugging half-heartedly as she gaped at her hand.
“Lindsey, look at me.”
His words didn’t penetrate, so he tried again, quieter. “Lindsey.”
As if in a daze, she lifted wide eyes to his. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”
Dax didn’t know either, so he went with his instincts. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her into an embrace. “We’ll control it together. Slow breaths. Like mine.”
He inhaled for a four count then exhaled. Lindsey’s free hand clenched a handful of his shirt over his stomach as she slowly matched his rhythm.
“Good. Close your eyes, keep focusing on your breathing.”
She resisted for a beat, then her eyelids dropped down. Dax made sure he maintained the four count and glanced at the hand he held. The flames had sputtered to tiny flickers of orange light, but they weren’t completely gone.
“Don’t think about the magic. Think about me. Focus on me.”
“What if it gets worse?”
He brushed a kiss against her temple. “I’ll tell you. You can trust me to do that, right?”
Lindsey didn’t answer, but she lowered her head to rest against his shoulder and finally relaxed. Her tight fist let go of his shirt, winding around his back instead. A soft breath wafted across his neck, and Dax marveled at how well she fit against him.
She shifted closer, and her lips brushed his collarbone. Heat spread from the innocuous touch, and he had to adjust his stance to keep from pulling her all the way against his body. The move distracted him enough that when she rested her other hand over his heart, his lax grip didn’t stop her.
Dax froze for a second when the little flames came in contact with his shirt, but instead of catching the cotton on fire, the warmth seeped into his chest and faded away. Lindsey curled into him, and he stroked her back with a light touch. She hadn’t noticed her magic retreating.
The timing made Dax think the power related to her emotions. Her coconut scent surrounded him, and he wondered how long he’d get to hold her before she pushed him away. Not long enough.
She opened her eyes and sucked in a breath when she saw her formerly smoldering palm flattened against his chest. Dax knew the feeling.
Even though he knew it was coming, disappointment plagued him when she leaned back to gape. “My magic doesn’t affect you.”
“That appears to be true.” His hand stilled, but she didn’t untangle herself.
“How did you know what to do?”
“I didn’t. You were on the verge of hyperventilating, so I helped you calm down. I had no idea that would calm your magic too.” Except he wasn’t sure he had helped her calm down. In the quiet moment, he could feel her heart racing against him.
“Thank you.” She reached up to kiss his cheek, but Dax didn’t want her gratitude.
He turned his head and captured her lips before she could move away.
5
Lindsey
The world stopped for a moment with Dax’s lips
pressed to hers. A tingly sense of anticipation rose inside her, flush with hunger, for the space of an indrawn breath. Then the wave crashed over and the world rushed back in.
Dax kissed as he did everything else, with complete confidence and utter skill. Lindsey groaned and gave into the ache that lit up every nerve ending in her body. After a week of unrelenting, highly sexual dreams, the reality of Dax put her imagination to shame.
Lindsey slid her hand behind his neck to pull him closer, savoring his spicy scent. She craved the taste and the heat of him. The kiss deepened, their mouths melding together over and over, in a desperate bid to satisfy the yearning.
His fingers pressed into her waist, holding her against him, but he eased back an inch, resting his forehead against hers. Like before with the magic, their chests rose and fell in sync. The hair at his nape brushed her fingers, and Lindsey savored the in-between moment. Amid breath and kisses and responsibility, Dax felt like home.
Was this the fate she’d waited for?
Her eyes popped open at the quiet, unwarranted thought—not from Calliope, but from deep inside herself. Of course, he felt like home. Dax had been chosen for her a thousand years ago by a meddling group of gods.
Reality intruded, and Lindsey back-pedaled out of his arms. His hands stayed on her until the last possible second, then fell to his sides, like he’d had to fight to let go.
Lindsey touched her lips. “That was a mistake.” If she kept repeating it, maybe she’d be able to convince herself it was the truth.
Dax shoved his hands in his pockets, grim determination shadowing his face. “I disagree.”
“I have to get out of here for a while.” She reached for her purse before remembering she’d left it upstairs today. Her favorite cargo pants had big enough pockets to hold her wallet, phone, and keys.
“Running away won’t help.”
She sent him a tight smile. “I disagree. I want to think about what happened today. See if I can find a pattern for the magic.”
He inclined his head. “Call me if you need anything.”
His easy acceptance made Lindsey pause at the front door. He deserved at least a partial explanation before she bailed on him. “I don’t like the idea of the Fates toying with us.”
“The Fates have nothing to do with how much I want to kiss you again.”
Warmth climbed her cheeks. “And I want to be able to use my magic without the assistance of your tongue.”
He chuckled. “You pulled the magic back on your own. Well before any tongue action.”
Was he right? Lindsey hadn’t been thinking beyond Dax, which was one of the problems. She shook her head and opened the door. “I’ll be back later.”
“Take as much time as you need. I can wait.”
The town area of Deckard, Texas wasn’t exactly charming, but it was unique. Lindsey had visited many places with the picturesque square surrounded by quaint little shops, usually dominated by a park with a big white gazebo in the middle. There had to be a blueprint for “small town America” hidden away somewhere.
She never felt completely at ease in those places. The people there were quick to notice anything new, and often, they viewed change with suspicion. Whenever her job took her to a small town, she knew it would be twice the work for half the information.
Deckard didn’t have a square, and the park took up a different part of town. The thick forest of pines closing in on all sides provided plenty of green if not space. Instead, they had two square blocks of one- and two-story buildings housing the necessities of modern life. A hardware store. A gas station. A chain restaurant. But they also had small businesses owned by the townsfolk, which she tried to frequent.
After parking at the local coffee shop, Lindsey surveyed the street. The fire station next to her had their bay doors open, and a discussion about the greatest superhero floated over on the breeze.
She smirked at the choices. Typical debate about who could kick who’s ass. Personally, she preferred the ones who didn’t have superpowers and fought for justice with their wits and their wads of money. Superpowers were overrated.
Lindsey flexed her fingers and blew out a breath. The sun warmed her shoulders, the air smelled like grilling meat, and the wind tossed her ponytail into her face. A normal summer day in a normal town. All she had to do was pretend to be normal.
Sabine had said to contact Moira if she ever needed anything, and at the moment, Lindsey needed something to think about other than magic, Dax, and the talking cat she’d left at home. Maybe Moira would have something for her to fix.
She set off walking the perimeter of the business district, searching for a sign of Moira’s Yarn Shop. A glint of sunlight on metal in the corner window display caught her attention. An antique shop had prominently arranged a sword, slightly tarnished with age, on a wooden table stand amid a collection of orange Tupperware and creepy porcelain dolls.
While craning her head to stare at the sword, Lindsey plowed right into another person on the street. The small woman, with pixie-short honey-blonde hair and vivid green eyes, waved away her apology.
“It’s as much my fault as yours. I should know better than to walk while digging in my bag.”
The giant tote bag she had slung over one shoulder bulged with what looked like rocks. “I’m just glad I didn’t knock you over. That bag might have done some damage.”
The woman followed Lindsey’s line of sight, then laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure books will be my downfall one day. I’m Kora. I own the bookstore around the corner.”
She held out her hand, and Lindsey shook it. “Lindsey. I just moved here. Sort of. I’m house-sitting for Sabine this summer.”
Kora’s eyes lit up. “Sabine told me you were coming. I’m new here too. Well, relatively. We’ve only been open for two years. Compared to the rest of the town, that’s practically yesterday. Where are you headed?”
“Moira’s Yarn Shop.”
“Oh, she’s on Azalea Street. Opposite side of town.”
Lindsey pointed back the way she’d come. “So, a couple of blocks that way?”
Kora laughed again. “Yep. We like to say the close proximity keeps things interesting. But if you’re looking for Moira, you’re out of luck. Her shop’s closed today. Could I interest you in a coffee instead? I was just heading to the café to drop these books off with Reggie.”
Lindsey hadn’t needed Moira specifically—only something to keep her busy—and Kora’s infectious warmth meant she was probably a good source of information about the town. Calliope had been here the whole time, albeit in the woods, so Lindsey would love to know how the locals had explained away any oddities associated with her presence.
“Sure. I’ve got time.” With a last glance at the sword, Lindsey followed Kora down the street.
Sweat dripped down Lindsey’s back from the heat, but Kora didn’t seem bothered. She bopped along in jeans and a black tee-shirt with nary a sweat stain to be seen.
Kora chattered about Reggie, the coffee shop owner, and his voracious appetite for murder mysteries. She seemed convinced that if the man weren’t so nice, he’d be in the running for a serial killer.
“Isn’t that what everyone says after they find out their neighbor murdered six nuns? ‘You’d never know. He was so nice’.” Lindsey wasn’t sure why she’d said that out loud. She was usually better with first impressions.
Kora’s face lit up with a sunny smile. “I know, but Reggie won’t even kill a spider in his place. He makes his staff relocate them outside, and we get a lot of spiders here in the Piney Woods.”
A blast of cold air dried Lindsey’s sweat almost as soon as they walked in. Goosebumps raised on her arms, but after the ferocious heat outside, the relief felt fantastic. The scent of coffee and pastries filled the room, and she resolved to come into town more often.
Kora walked to the side of the counter to ask for Reggie. A skinny man with a shock of red hair and a surprisingly deep voice emerged from behind the espre
sso machine to lift Kora off the ground in a hug. She giggled and handed him the tote bag once her feet had reached solid ground again. He grinned like a maniac.
“You’re the best, Kora. I’ll get your usual. And for your friend?”
They both turned to stare at her. “Vanilla latte with an extra shot.”
Reggie nodded and moved away, but Kora tapped her chin. “I didn’t take you for the boring type.”
Lindsey held out her arms. “What you see is what you get. I travel a lot and almost every coffee shop has a version of a vanilla latte. I try to save the extra shot for when I’ve had a particularly troubling day.”
She hadn’t meant to reveal the last part. Kora’s gaze sharpened, but Reggie returned with their drinks before she could comment. Lindsey’s brows shot up as Kora grabbed a pale concoction that looked more like a milkshake than a coffee drink.
“Thanks, Reggie. I should have new stock sometime next week.”
“Just let me know when, sweetheart.” He nodded at both of them then went back to pulling shots.
Kora took a long slurp from her straw then sighed with a dreamy smile. “Come on, let’s grab a table.”
They chose a high top with two stools, and Lindsey waited for the questions to begin. She didn’t have to wait long.
“What happened today that necessitated an extra shot?” Kora sat cross-legged on the stool in an impressive show of flexibility.
Lindsey blew on her latte, then took a tentative sip before answering. “I kissed the guy I’m living with, and it’s probably going to make the next few months weird.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
Heat rushed up her face at the memory. “That’s not the point. We’re sort of working together in a possibly dangerous job, and there may have been a tiny bit of coercion involved.”
“First, you definitely need to give me more details on the ‘tiny bit of coercion’. Second, that’s a lot of qualifiers for one sentence. It sounds like you’re not one hundred percent on board with the kissing yourself.”