CH 8 - Connor
1461 Words
CONNOR POV
Who the hell was this guy?
Why was he smiling at my mate?
And more importantly—why the hell was he bringing coffee to her?
The second I saw it—the smell of bitter roast and milk foam clinging to his hand like a taunt—Cain started snarling in my head like a chain being torn apart. My wolf didn’t like rivals. He didn’t like anyone near her.
Rightfully so. She was MINE.
Mine to love.
Mine to cherish.
Mine to spoil.
Mine to feed.
‘Slice him,’ Cain hissed. ‘Rip him open. Take what’s ours. And leave him bleeding to death outside’
My fists clenched so hard my knuckles cracked. We weren’t supposed to kill humans. Not here. Not in broad daylight. Not in a bloody bookstore with a pastel-painted bell above the door.
But then the guy said it.
“Grace bear.”
Grace. Bear.
The fucker.
I saw red. My vision actually tinted for a second, heat crawling up my neck like fire and molten steel. My claws pricked through my skin, aching to be freed. The human had no idea how close he was to being shredded.
*Graceee beeeaaar.* He dragged the syllables like he owned her.
I could feel my teeth ache with the urge to tear him apart.
“I beg your pardon?” my mate snarled.
And I could breathe again.
The sound of her voice—low, sharp, warning—hit me like a shot of cold water. My spitfire didn’t like the nickname. My mate didn’t like it.
Cain growled, but softer now. ‘She’s hit when she’s pissed off . And she knows she’s ours.’
I couldn’t help it. I let out a smug little snort. “Yeah, she’s not a bear,” I said.
And then instantly regretted opening my damn mouth.
Because now my mate was turning to look at me, one perfect eyebrow arching like a blade. The same eyebrow she’d raised when I’d offered her tea earlier. The same one that made me feel like a schoolboy caught stealing candy.
Oh, well.
Before I could recover, the human squared up.
“I don’t know who you are, dude, but Grace and I are pretty close, so would you kindly get the f**k out and mind your business?”
I swear, a vein in my forehead was about to pop.
‘Let me at him,’Cain growled. ‘One swipe. One. He’ll never smile again. And I’ll be a good boy. Forever’
My claws were out. I could feel them itching against my palms. One push from Cain and the human would be ribbons on the carpet.
“For f**k’s sake, Timothy! We’re not pretty close!” she hissed, reaching out to grab him and drag him behind a shelf.
Why?
Why did she want privacy?
From me?
Oh god. Was he her boyfriend?
The word hit like a punch. My stomach twisted. Cain went berserk. ‘Kill him. Kill him now. Fix the issue. Tell him we can duel’
‘We don’t duel humans,’ I snapped at him. ‘That’s Middle Ages stuff.’
Unfortunatly
‘Doesn’t matter’ Cain’s snarl was so loud it echoed in my skull. ‘She’s ours. Ours. Our Luna! And the nymphs’ princess!’
I forced myself to stay put, ears straining to catch every word. Eavesdropping wasn’t noble, but screw noble. This was survival.
“I don’t know what the f**k you think you’re doing, Timothy,” Grace whisper-yelled. “But there’s nothing between us! Get it into that damn skull of yours or I’m going to—”
“Why are you acting like that?” the bastard said. “You like that dude? What, you’re into broad shoulders and dummies now?”
The nerve.
I would show him broad shoulders. I would show him dummy.
“Why did I come back to this fool town again?” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “I’m not into anyone. Not you. Not him. No one. Think of me like Switzerland. Got it? Now get your ass out of my bookstore.”
“Technically your father’s bookstore,” he said.
Was he suicidal?
Grace’s voice shot up to nearly a shout. “Are you serious? Get out, Timothy! If you’re not actually buying a book—which I doubt—out it is!”
Her footsteps came back first, quick and sharp. Then she appeared from behind the shelf, dragging the smug bastard along with her.
He was looking at her ass.
My vision blurred again.
Her ass was only mine to look at.
She was only mine to look at.
I swallowed the growl rattling up my chest.
“The same thing applies to you too, Connor,” she said, pointing at me now, her eyes sparking. “I’m not into drama, I want peace, so if you’re not—”
I cut her off before she could finish.
I would buy the entire damn store if that’s what it took. I still needed the keychains, sure, but what I really needed was to be near her.
“I actually have to buy…” I started.
Her eyes flicked—just the tiniest flicker—at the keychains on the counter. My heart stuttered.
“…a book. I need a book.”
“You need a book,” the fucker echoed, like it was a crime.
“Yes, I need a book.” I smirked at him, couldn’t help it. “You can get the f**k out like my lady said.”
Timothy looked at me head to toe, maybe finally realizing I could outmuscle him with my pinkie toe. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then silently handed the coffee to Grace.
And she took it.
Goddammit.
My fingers curled. The smell of roasted beans clung to the air, mingling with hers—coffee and cinnamon with a hint of brown sugar. Her scent. My mate. With HIS coffee! drinking HIS coffee!
I was going to kill him. Slowly.
When he finally walked out of the store, I thought I’d feel better. I didn’t. My wolf was still pacing, restless.
Grace turned her amber-brown eyes on me, skeptical, sharp. “Which book do you need? Do I have to order it?”
And my mind went blank.
Totally blank.
All the blood that had been pulsing in my veins for adrenaline and rage was now pulsing somewhere else entirely. My c**k was hard, my brain was mush.
Oh well.
I grabbed the first book I saw on the nearest shelf and held it up like an i***t. “Loch Ness: Tales or Reality?”
Grace stared at me.
Then at the book.
Then back at me again.
“Do you have a Nessie fetish or something?” she asked.
Her tone was pure ice, but her lips—pouty, upper lip just a little fuller than the bottom—curved as she said it. Like she was fighting a smile.
My heart stumbled over itself.
I wanted to say something clever. Wanted to lean on the counter and tell her how her scent had burned into my lungs the second I’d walked in. How Cain had howled when he saw her. How her fire had made me forget ten years of cold, empty nights.
But all I managed was: “Maybe.”
Oh, Goddess. Why did I say maybe?
Why?
Did I just imply I had a Nessie fetish? my mother?
I wanted to gag. I wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and stay there until the next lunar cycle. I wanted to borrow just one functioning brain cell from someone—anyone—and clearly, I didn’t have one to spare.
She blinked at me, clearly unimpressed. “Maybe?”
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Look, I’m not really here for Nessie. Or for the keychains. I mean, I am. But…”
Cain rumbled in my mind, low and urging. ‘Tell her. Claim her.’
Not yet. Not like this.
I forced a crooked smile. “I just needed an excuse to see you again.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s… a very weird excuse.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged, still holding the book like it was a lifeline. “I’m a weird guy.”
For a heartbeat, something flickered across her face—surprise, maybe. Softness. Then it was gone, replaced by that cool, skeptical stare again.
And that’s when it hit me: Timothy’s coffee wasn’t my biggest problem.
My biggest problem was convincing the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen that she was already mine—whether she liked it or not.
- Writer
