Page 49 of A Shade Too Far
“You look like you need cheering up and this will do it.” His expression was soft, his eyes clouded with concern.
Zev’s comments came to mind, and I longed to lay my hand on Laurent’s stubbled jaw and ask how long he’d been stuck as a wolf, and how he’d come back with this deep well of compassion intact, but I lightly curled my fingers into my palms.
“You didn’t know I needed cheering up before you got here,” I said. “You just don’t want to ride in my car.”
“That’s always true,” he said, “but you were distracted over something yesterday. Well?” He held the helmet out.
I rubbed a hand over my lips. Drive through annoying traffic, obsessing over Sadie and how dangerous the Wise Brothers would be, or let this wolf give me a wild ride.
Phrasing.
Laurent blinked at something on the small table in my foyer, and doing a terrible job of not laughing, picked up the mug that said “I Love to Wrap Both My Hands Around It and Swallow.”
My cheeks flamed. Shit. I’d totally forgotten about the discarded item. I reached out to grab it. “Give it back.”
He tapped the ceramic, holding the mug out of reach. “An older woman with questionable morals. How intriguing.” He leaned close with a wicked grin. “Admit you want to go for a ride, Mitzi.”
I crossed my arms, grateful that the motion hid my hard nipples.
His eyes were luminous with delight, his lips in a lopsided grin, and his body relaxed with an almost palpable amusement. He was so vitally alive, his usual guardedness absent, and watching this playfulness to him after his fight with Naveen took my breath away.
The rush of attraction hit me like a tsunami, literally forcing me back a step. Mentally slapping myself upside the head, I pointed at the kitchen. “Put the cup in the sink, please, and wait in the kitchen.”
Racing upstairs, I did a quick but thorough cleansing, praying that I’d remain downwind of the wolf shifter. Feeling about as sexy as a puddle of toxic waste, I popped a couple of painkillers and threw on jeans and a T-shirt, making an effort to look pulled together. I raked my dark hair back into a low ponytail that would fit under the helmet, and after concealing my bruises with foundation, swiped on some shimmery eyeshadow, mascara, and light gloss.
A notification chimed on my phone. The colleague I’d reached out to had emailed me back to say they’d passed my email on to another librarian at a theology library at Oxford. Fancy. I sent off a quick thank-you, hoping this second person could illuminate why Zev wanted the Torquemada Gloves. If I had a concrete understanding of the situation, more facts, perhaps I could reason with the vampire to prioritize Tatiana’s life over the artifact.
After lacing up my runners, I added necessities to my small, crossbody purse, including my good luck domino and a sanitary pad. After a moment’s hesitation, I threw in the vial and flew down the stairs. “I’m ready.”
Laurent thankfully refrained from any more teasing as I locked up and we walked over to his motorcycle, a leather and chrome monster that sat between my sedan and an SUV like an alien predator.
I patted the seat. “Hi, pumpkin.”
Paper rustled, my neighbor Luka giving me a dry look as he sat down in his porch chair, newspaper in hand.
Laurent rubbed the seat off like I’d infected it with cooties. “Don’t call her that.”
“What should I call her?”
“She doesn’t have a name.” He double-checked that my helmet was adjusted properly.
“Liar.” I swung my leg over the seat behind him, the bunch and flex of his back muscles filling my vision, and I wiped my hands on my jeans. Our previous ride had been conducted with two layers of leather between us. Neither of us wore jackets now, which meant the only thing separating us was the thin fabric of our shirts.
“Ready?” he called back.
“As I’ll ever be.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, my cheek pressed against his spine.
He started the engine, his free hand resting casually on my clasped fists, before giving them a squeeze and taking the handlebars.
I snuggled closer against him, butterflies getting the best of me, but Laurent took it slowly at first to ease me back into the sensation, and while I didn’t have my eyes closed behind my sunglasses this time, my heart beat as loudly as the bike’s rumble.
Little by little, I relaxed, and Laurent opened her up, the pavement streaking by under our feet and the city rushing past in a blur.
A bright blue dragonfly zipped toward my helmet, bobbing close before darting away and I sat up straighter, the volume on the world turned up. It was like my senses had gone from sepia to rainbow-colored. Was this what it was like to be a shifter? My breathing evened out to match Laurent’s, and I drank in his scent, that ever-present cedar underneath the muskier aroma of sandalwood soap.
We pulled up in front of Tatiana’s house far too soon, parking behind a metallic blue Porsche. Its door opened and I half expected James Bond to exit, but it was Naveen, his platinum blond hair brushed carelessly away from his forehead, and his tailored slacks and silk shirt hugging his frame. So, close enough.
The three of us eyed each other. Laurent and I windblown in contrast to his cool, unruffled vibe.
