Page 29 of Death and Divination
“How attached were you to that oleander plant in the kitchen?” His brows knitted with worry as he watched for my reaction.
“You reaped the oleander? I just got that thing two days ago. There’s no way I’d managed to almost-kill it in that time. No, this is all on you, buddy. You’re a plant murderer. Just admit to it.”
His lips twitched. “I swear it was dying. Someone’s feline had been peeing into the soil. I’m surprised you didn’t smell it.”
I stared at him in surprise, then started to laugh. “Marcus. He’s a panther shifter. He gave me the plant because he hates them and his intern is turning his office into a jungle. Oh my God, he was peeing in the oleander! Sylvie would have a field day with this passive aggressive shit. I can’t believe it!”
“So you’re not mad?”
“That you put the oleander out of its misery? No. Although I do think we’ll need to take this strange proclivity of yours into consideration when doing job searches. No landscaping jobs. No farming. Produce sales might even be out of the question.”
We cuddled tight, laughing and joking about all the careers he should and shouldn’t consider. Then we lay together in companionable silence, his hand roaming over my back making my mind think of other things besides resumes and job applications.
He kissed the side of my head. “Sleep. I’ll stay here and hold you. I’ll keep the nightmares away.”
“You can do that?” I looked up at him.
“Heck if I know.” He smiled, his hand tracing little circles on my lower back. “I’ll do my best.”
“What if I don’t want to sleep?” I pressed myself against him. “I want you, Nash. I like you here in my house. I like you here in my bed. And I want you.”
“Are you sure? Should I pretend to be delivering pizza, or servicing your dishwasher? Should we wait for you to get a hot tub and convince three friends to join you in a hedonistic night of pleasure?”
I snorted. “That’s Sylvie, not me. Actually I’m not sure Sylvie’s into the three friends thing, although she’d enthusiastically support that option for other people. I just need you. I need you right here, right now. And maybe a few times more if we’re up to it.”
His breath caught. “I’m fairly certain I’d be up to it.”
My hand traced the warm skin on his ribs, tickling down his side to grip his waistband with a firm tug. “Then let’s make love and eat breakfast. In that order.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He kissed me, scooting my tank top up as I unbuttoned his pants.
We explored each other’s bodies, slowly and with great attention. I’d never been with someone so attentive to my needs, so focused onme. We stroked, kissed, and tasted. We giggled at missteps, then adjusted and got back on track. And when we got serious and I felt that first orgasm shiver through me, I knew this was the man I wanted in my life forever.
It all felt so right with him, so perfect. Who would have thought that me of all witches would find what might be a forever love in death?
It was like fate. It was like…magic.
* * *
It wasclose to dinner time before I showered, left Nash to watch television, and headed into town. The drive seemed shorter than usual, and I was well aware that I was smiling the whole way. It wasn’t just the sex—which was awesome, by the way—it was everything about Nash. He was sweet and funny, and we’d spent the day eating, watching movies, and going over career options for him as I pulled my laptop out and tried to put together a resume. Not much got done in the way of job searches though, since we were continuously finding ourselves in the bed, or on the couch, or rolling across the floor doing it like rabbits. I’ll admit it was the best day ever, and it had been hard to pull myself away, but after seeing Shelby in my dream, I knew I had to come see her.
Nash would be there when I got home. The thought sent happy bubbles of excitement through me.
Parking just off the road, I walked down the embankment to the house the werewolf shared with Alberta, then I knocked on the thick oak door and waited. It only took a few seconds before the door swung open and I found myself face-to-face with Shelby. The werewolf looked…different. Females who were part of the pack were under a whole lot of restrictions as to who they could sleep with, procreate with, and even to some extent their ability to come and go from the compound. The alpha could deny anyone permission to leave the pack territory, but that sort of restriction tended to be placed more on females than males, no doubt to keep them from “accidently” having carnal relations with non-werewolves. Males were allowed to screw any consenting being they chose. Females? No so much.
It sounded strict, and it was, but there were plenty of female werewolves who came and went in the town proper, although they tended to hang with groups of their own kind. Female werewolves weren’t meek and placid. They were just as bad-ass as the males and were just as rowdy and short of temper. But when there was a difference of opinion, female werewolves tended to support the males and especially their alpha, knowing that those privileges and freedoms they enjoyed could be yanked away without warning.
It was a culture Cassie was working hard to change. And Shelby had been ground zero for that effort. The werewolf had fallen in love with a troll—a female troll—and gotten caught, warned, and told what the punishment would be if she continued to see her lover, Alberta. The two had gone into stealth mode, but when Clinton had seen them together one night, they’d needed to make a snap decision.
Shelby would have lost her life if it had been up to Dallas, but Cassie had stepped in and the town of Accident now had their first lone wolf. She was shunned by every other werewolf, refused access to the compound, and completely cut off from her family and former pack mates. It was agonizing for her, and I knew she was struggling with the aftermath of that whole thing.
There were some problems I wasn’t sure even love could solve, but in my heart, I rooted for Alberta and Shelby to make it. And itwasa bit easier now that there was one more lone wolf in town—Stanley. He’d been trapped between the two warring alphas and had put his neck on the line to help Bronwyn. Cassie had granted him sanctuary and told both Dallas and Clinton that if anyone so much as growled at the werewolf, she’d set their hide on fire.
Or singe their beards off their faces.
Werewolf politics aside, Shelby looked different. Gone was her typical worn, boot-cut jeans and tank top. Gone was the long, bushy hair. Gone was the faint fuzz of a beard that some of the female werewolves worked diligently to shave while others embraced. Instead, Shelby had on a pale pink skater-skirt that came to mid-thigh paired with a floral-print blouse. Her hair was close cropped into a cap of dark lamb’s wool that given werewolf genetics, I knew she had to trim daily. And her face was either freshly shaved, or she’d been using one of the hair-removal products I’d seen advertised on late-night infomercials.
She had on makeup. And that was a shocker because I could count on one hand the number of female werewolves who wore makeup.
