Page 70 of Must Love Libraries and Libations
From inside the library came a series of contented chirps and trills as the bookwyrms settled in for the night. They’d eaten their weight in cupcakes and canapés and were now in what could only be described as party-induced bliss.
“Sounds like they overindulged,” I said with a laugh.
“Stevenson is going to have quite the stomachache tomorrow,” Erasmus replied, but there was fondness in his voice rather than exasperation. “Though I suspect he considers it worth it.”
The night air was warm around us, filled with the lingering scents of flowers and the faint sweetness of magical fireworks. In the distance, I could hear the gentle sounds of Moonshine Hollow settling into sleep—doors closing, final conversations drifting on the breeze, the soft hoot of Sir Hootington from his perch in the bookstore.
“So,” I said, suddenly feeling shy despite everything that had passed between us. “What happens now?”
“Now, if you’re willing, I’d very much like to spend the evening with you. Just us.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “If you’ll have me.”
My heart stuttered. The weight of his words, the vulnerability in them, made my breath catch. This man, who had spent centuries alone, who guarded his privacy as fiercely as he guarded his books, was offering me everything.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He offered me his arm, and together we walked toward the library. The building seemed to sense our approach. The doors opened without being touched, enchanted candles flickered to life along the corridors, and even the air itself seemed to hum with welcome.
“The library likes you,” Erasmus observed as we passed through the main hall, where the Wyrmwood tree’s blossoms glowed softly in the darkness.
“The feeling is mutual,” I replied, running my fingers along the spines as we passed, the result of which evoked a giggle from the books.
We reached the familiar door to his study, and he opened it without hesitation. He was truly inviting me in, not I’d barged my way past his defenses, but because he wanted me there.
The room felt different from how it had during our previous encounters. More welcoming, somehow. The warm glow of enchanted lamps cast everything in golden light, and I found myself noticing details I’d missed before in all the drama—a collection of smooth river stones on one shelf, a pressed flower between the pages of an open book, a small painting of the library as it had looked decades ago.
“You mentioned wine?” he said, moving to a cabinet I hadn’t noticed before.
I laughed. “Please. Although it’s a shame we didn’t grab those vintage bottles from the witch’s cellar. We could be the richest people in Moonshine Hollow.”
“I’ve had quite enough of Witch Eyreaway, thank you,” Erasmus replied as he poured us both cups. Our fingers brushed as I took it, and even that simple touch sent warmth racing up my arm.
“To new beginnings,” he said, raising his glass.
“And to you, on your birthday.”
“Thank you, Primrose.”
We drank, and then he set his glass aside and moved closer. “Primrose,” he said, my name soft on his lips. “I want you to know something.”
“What is it?”
“Tonight has been special beyond compare. I…I am a new person because of you,” he said, then set his hand on my face, gently cupping it. “You are so special. And I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in five hundred and eleven years of existence.”
My glass nearly slipped from my suddenly trembling fingers. “Erasmus…”
“I’m not just falling for you. I love you,” he said simply. “I love your laugh and your determination and the way you see sparkle in everything, even grumpy gargoyles who don’t deserve it. I love that you bought a house when you were angry at me, and I love that you never gave up on this party even when I was being impossible.”
I set my wine aside. “I love you too,” I whispered. “I think I have since that first day when you were so magnificently rude that I wanted to both throttle you and kiss you senseless.”
“What’s stopping you now?” he asked, stepping even closer.
“Absolutely nothing,” I breathed, and then I was in his arms and kissing him like tomorrow would never come. But this kiss was different from the others, deeper, more certain. There was no hesitation, no fear of interruption, just the two of us finally free to explore what had been building between us for so long.
His hands found the small buttons at the back of my dress, and I could feel the question in his touch.
“Yes,” I said against his lips. “Please. Yes.”
With careful fingers, he began to undo the fastenings, pressing soft kisses to each inch of skin he revealed. When the dress pooled at my feet in a shimmer of pink magic, I reached for his jacket, eager to feel the warmth of his skin.
