Page 80 of Taming of a Wolf

Nothing will stop me from giving Jamie the best night of his life.

Nothing except the slowest damn train in all the nine realms.

We’ve been stuck in a tunnel for what feels like an age, and it’s hot as the fires of bloody Muspelheim. Sweat trickles down my body and soaks into my shirt. Gods, I hope I arrive in time. I’ve got to get Jamie a gift. It’s the least I can do to show how much my mate means to me, aside from claiming him, of course.

Finally, the train lurches to life, and after several stops, I get out at Union Square. The bookstore looms over the park, making it easy to find. It’s massive inside and packed with people. Fortunately, a security guard directs me to the third floor; otherwise, I’d have no idea where to look.

I ride some weird contraption that’s like stairs, but they move, so you don’t have to climb them. I get on one going in the wrong direction, so I end up walking in place for nearly a minute before I figure out how to get on the other one. This world is so damn confusing.

Just as I step off the contraption, I jump out of the path of a crowd of people, chattering excitedly as they carry copies of the same book. It looks like there is a Viking on the cover. Oh gods, please don’t let me be too late.

Staff are stacking chairs and sweeping a section of the store. There’s a sign nearby promoting the event from what little I can read. L. A. Richardson’s name is on the sign, and so is a picture of his book. Disappointment has me slumping against a shelf. I’m too late. This would have been the perfect gift for Jamie, everything I needed to help show my devotion.

Now what will I do?

“Excuse me, are you okay?”

The man before me looks just like the picture on the sign, a short man with a round stomach and glasses perched on his nose.

Hope flares within me. The author is still here! Mayhap there is a chance I can still get Jamie his gift. “L. A. Richardson?”

He smiles. “That’s me. My event just ended, but I’m more than happy to sign something for you if you’d like.”

I shake my head. “I need a copy of one of your books. The special one.”

The author’s smile falls off his face. “I’m so sorry. I just sold my last copy.”

No, no, no! This is all going wrong.

“If you sign up for my mailing list, you’ll be kept updated about all my upcoming events and—”

“My ma—boyfriendis a huge fan of your stories, Mr. Richardson. He owns a bookshop and has a whole shelf dedicated to your works.”

“Wow! That’s so sweet,” Richardson says, and his face lights up with delight. “I would love to do a reading at his shop.”

That would be even better than a signed copy! A chance to meet his favorite author in person would make Jamie so happy.

“That would be most excellent! He loves everything you’ve written. He and I were reading through your latest historical series. It’s good, very good. The spicy scenes, as Jamie calls them, are exquisitely detailed.”

Richardson flushes with pride. “I do love those Vikings.”

Clearing my throat, I ask, “Have you experienced the kind of love you write about?”

He laughs. “Me? Gosh. No. These are fantasies of mine, nothing more. I’m no lad, but who do you think the Irish lad is supposed to represent?” He points to himself.

“I have found the kind of love in your books,” I tell him. “The passion you describe, the intensity of the characters’ feelings… You describe word for word every way in which I feel for Jamie.”

“Aww. That’s wonderful to hear.”

A smile tugs at my lips as I think of my mate. The sunshine in his smile that burns so bright it hides all that darkness inside. How resilient he is, despite all his losses. The way he let me take care of him when he needed it most.

“Jamie went through a lot when he was younger. He lost his family, and for a long time, he was in a dark place. It was your books that helped him escape, your books that brought a light into that darkness. Your characters are dear to him. Their adventures and romantic conquests bring him joy. He is without a doubt your biggest, most loyal fan. Meeting you would make him happy beyond words. His happiness is my happiness. Do this for me, and I would be in your debt.”

The author is quiet for a moment, drinking in my words. “Wow. That’s so nice to hear. I spend so much time drowning in self-doubt and imposter syndrome. It’s easy to forget I have real, true fans out there.” He sits up straighter, determination in his eyes. “All right. How about this: I can show up and do a reading for Jamie this afternoon. Is 4:00 p.m. enough time to get thingsready? I don’t need anything fancy, just a quiet place to sit and read to him.”

I sigh in relief. Jamie will be delighted. “Yes, thank you.”

I can’t wait to see Jamie’s face. He’ll be thrilled!

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