Xav and Reid were watching her, less curious than they were worried. Misty realized she was murmuring to herself, as she sometimes did when working here alone.
She held up the book. “It’s an out-there idea, but you never know.”
Reid reached for the book. Misty handed it to him, and his brows drew down as he read the page through. “This is—”
His words were cut off by a loud thumping on the front door, bangs like blows from a large and very angry hammer.
Xavier lost his friendly look, his hand going to the gun in his back holster. He stepped out into the hall, blocking Misty’s way, and started for the front.
The door burst open, wood splintering as the lock gave way. A hulk of a man strode in, followed, incongruously, by two small boys.
“Misty!” Graham’s bellow rocketed through the house.
Xav relaxed and took his hand from the pistol. Reid joined Xav, the two of them still shielding Misty as Graham came on like a freight train.
“I’m right here,” Misty said between the two tall men.
Graham glared at the wall of Xav and Reid. “Get out of the way. I’m not going to hurt her.”
Xav didn’t move. “She said you split up. Now you tear down the door and come running inside her house. What are we supposed to think?”
“Move, Escobar, or I’ll break your ass. Misty, what the fuck was that?”
“What was what?” Misty squeezed around Xav, who let out an exasperated breath as he let her go. Misty eyed the hole where her door latch used to be and the splinters of wood that clung to it. “Graham, you broke my door. What the hell?”
Graham grabbed Misty by the shoulders and stared down into her eyes. The two kids, Matt and Kyle in their human form, grabbed onto his legs, one to each. “You were in that dream, right?” Graham demanded. “The one with the fountain and the Fae?”
Misty’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know that?”
“I was there. The Fae bastard kept trying to get you to drink the water, and to give it to me.”
“And the wolf cubs stopped me.”
“Then you all jumped on me.” Graham let out a growl. “Had to wash all the spit off my face when I woke up. They were licking me for real.”
“This can’t be right. How did we share a dream?”
“Because Fae magic is messed up. I saw the ice coming for you. I was afraid . . .”
Graham’s fingers clamped down on her shoulders, and the lines around his eyes tightened. Misty saw the fear in him, stark and real, which he strove to cover.
“I’m all right,” Misty said, softening her voice. “Xav woke me up, and it all went away.”
Graham’s fingers tightened more, his anger returning to drive out the fear. “Xav woke you? What the hell was Xav doing with you while you were asleep?” His glare shot to Xavier, who stood without flinching.
“Guarding me,” Misty said. “What did you think?”
Graham’s growl increased, his eyes turning very light gray. He said nothing, only fixed his wolf stare on Xav.
“Keep it cool,” Xavier said, unruffled. “I’m not a shithead who takes advantage of a lady in distress.”
“The points to focus on,” Reid broke in firmly, “are the shared dream, the Fae spell, and how to break it.”
Misty shrugged out of Graham’s grasp, much as she liked the comfort of his touch, even when he dug in. “That’s what you made me remember, Reid—I’d found a book of magic spells involving flowers. I thought it was just nonsense, but now I’m willing to give the rose spell a try.” Anything to break this thirst. She looked down at the boys, who were still clinging to Graham, being quieter than she’d ever seen them. “Thank you, Matt and Kyle, for helping.” She glanced back up at Graham. “Were you all taking a nap?”
“I was walking across Shiftertown to take them to the bears,” Graham said. “I woke up flat on my ass in the dirt, with two wolf cubs licking my face all over. Little shits.”
Both boys grinned. Their faces were dirty, their T-shirts crooked, as though someone—probably Graham—had dressed them in a hurry. One boy had hair a lighter shade of brown than the other; one had brown eyes and one hazel. A way to tell them apart, Misty thought, as soon as she figured out which was which.
Misty leaned to them, her long T-shirt hanging to her knees. “You two want some ice cream?”
“Ice cream!” The boys released Graham at the same moment and hurtled toward the kitchen.
“No shifting!” Graham bellowed after them. “They don’t need any more food, Misty. They already ate everything in my fridge. Don’t know why they haven’t gotten sick yet.”
“Energy,” Xav said. “Diego and I gobbled down everything in sight when we were kids. Still do.” He grinned.
Misty ducked back into her bedroom to change into a pair of shorts and a tank top. By the time she emerged, the three men had gone into the kitchen after the cubs. Reid was sitting at the table going through the book, Xav leaned on the counter near the back door, and Matt and Kyle had planted themselves in front of the refrigerator door, eyeing it longingly. Graham, behind them, had obviously told them not to open it.
“Come on, sweeties.” Misty took down bowls, fetched chocolate-vanilla swirl ice cream from the freezer, and spooned it into bowls. After observing the frozen chunks of chocolaty vanilla cream, icy in the bowls, Misty scooped out a helping for herself.
“Xav?” she offered. “Reid? Want any?”
Reid held up a hand without looking away from the book. Xav shook his head, giving her a small smile. “Not while I’m on duty.”
Graham didn’t respond as Misty carried the bowls to the table, sat the little boys down, and gave them spoons. The two boys stared at the spoons, mystified, then lifted the bowls, and started licking the ice cream out of them.
“Hey!” Graham roared. “Be civilized.”
“Don’t yell at them.” Misty sat down across the table from Reid and lifted her spoon. “Maybe they don’t know. Like this.”
Misty demonstrated how to hold the spoon and dip it into the ice cream, then she scooped some into her mouth. Frozen goodness coated her tongue, momentarily easing her constant thirst. Would be great if she could cure herself with ice cream.
As soon as she swallowed, the thirst came back, so she shoveled in more ice cream.
Kyle and Matt watched her, wide-eyed. “You can eat faster our way,” one of them—Kyle?—said.
Misty wanted to. She could lift the bowl to her mouth and take all its contents in one gulp. The only reason she didn’t was because Graham had sat down next to her and was watching her closely.
His gaze flicked to the spoon as she dipped it into the cream then followed it back to her mouth. He fixed on her lips as the ice cream went in, dropped to her throat as she swallowed, then returned to her lips, where a bit of cream lingered.
When Graham looked at her fully, Misty stilled, caught by eyes that held heat like silver fire. A shudder worked its way through her, besting even the thirst that popped back up as soon as she stopped eating.
Quench it with Graham . . .
The thought made her shake. Misty dug her spoon through the bowl, slowly lifting another scoop of cream. The ice cream was starting to melt now, its chocolate-stained vanilla droplets falling back into the bowl.
She lifted the spoon to her mouth. Graham’s gaze fixed on her even tighter. Misty moved her tongue out and licked up a dollop from her spoon.
A growl sounded in Graham’s throat, one so soft Misty knew only she could hear it. She took another lick of cream from the spoon. Graham sat so still he might have been carved into the chair, but his chest rose and fell sharply.
His face held the hardness of a man who’d survived on his strength alone for a long time, but Misty had always seen something in him besides the hardness. The tiny lines that feathered f
rom the corners of his eyes, for example. He got them from laughing—Graham was a man not afraid to laugh. He could roar with it. Scars crisscrossed his cheekbones, and his nose had been broken, several times, he’d told her. His face was sunburned from their adventure today, but even that was healing, his skin settling into its usual liquid tan.
The sun-bronzing made his eyes stand out even more, the gray turning to silver as he watched her lick another bit of ice cream. She moved her tongue around the mound on the spoon and drew it back between her lips . . .
Graham snarled. With one flick of his big hand, he sent the ice cream bowl flying across the table to shatter on the floor.
Misty could form only the first syllable of his name in protest before he was up and out of the kitchen, striding out the back door into her small, walled yard.
As she leapt up to follow him, she realized the entire kitchen had gone quiet. Matt and Kyle were staring, their eyes round, spoons frozen in place. Xavier, across the room, was watching as well. He didn’t smile, but there was a knowing look in his eyes. Only Reid was oblivious, still poring over the little book.
Misty darted out the back door, pulling it closed behind her. Graham was striding through her small yard, which she’d filled with desert and tropical flowers she carefully cultivated. He was stomping around, hands clasped on his head, the sun beating down on him. He was about to ruin the clump of autumn sage she’d nursed back from frost kill last winter—she’d finally got the plant bushy again, the bright red blossoms cheerful against the green.
Misty marched to Graham and grabbed him by the arm. He swung around, the look in his eyes so wild and empty that Misty had to take a faltering step back.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He couldn’t do this. Graham couldn’t be around this woman, who smelled like honey and spice, who curled her tongue around the light and dark ice cream as though it were the sweetest aphrodisiac.
He had a hard-on that wouldn’t stop. Xav Escobar knew it, the asshole. Graham had recognized the smirk. Of course, Xav probably had one too. And for that, Graham would kill him.
“I can’t do this,” he said.
“Can’t do what?” Misty stood in front of him, hands on her hips. “Break my door? Smash my dishes? Trample my plants? You’re like walking mass destruction.”
She wanted him to apologize, Graham realized. But Graham never apologized. You said sorry, and people felt smug and justified, and started to take advantage.
Hard to look into those sweet brown eyes and say nothing, though. “I’ll fix your front door.”
“You bet your ass you will,” Misty said. “Now, are we going to talk about it?”
There she went again. Talking. Always talking. “I thought you were done with me,” Graham said.
“I am, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you. Or not talking to you.”
“Then we’re not done.” Not by a long way.
“Yes, we are.”
Graham turned from her, not liking how fast his heart was beating. Or how thirsty he was. He fought it, having learned to work through hunger and thirst a long time ago, but he knew he couldn’t banish it entirely. The Fae magic had gotten to him, but he couldn’t give in to it. If he did that, he was dead.
To keep himself from thinking about the thirst, he focused on Misty’s yard. It was like her—compact, neat, beautiful. She hadn’t simply stuck clumps of plants everywhere. The yard had been landscaped, sculpted almost, with low mounds of grass and gravel hosting small flowering bushes and plants that bloomed fiercely under the hot sun. A false wash of river rock cut through the yard, crossed by a small wooden bridge.
Stepping stones led to the bridge and across the yard on the other side. Between the stones were gravel and scatterings of plants, blossoms moving in the summer breeze. The ugly cement block walls, so common in Southwestern cities, were softened by stands of hot pink and white oleanders on two walls, with a line of rose bushes, sheltered from the direct sun, on the third.
A pretty garden, with chairs and tables set out so Misty and friends could sit and enjoy iced tea or whatever women drank on summer afternoons. Graham was out of place here, a hulking creature in the diminutive space.
Misty seemed to be waiting for something. Graham did not understand her—anything female, in fact. She declared she was finished with him, then she ran after him. She said she wanted to talk to him, then she expected him to do the talking, when Graham wasn’t any good at it.
“What do you want me to say?” he ended up almost shouting. Yelling—that he was good at.
Misty glared. Did she know how edible she looked in her body-hugging tank top, the shorts that stopped mid-thigh? She’d put on sandals, which showed her bare legs all the way to her toes. Misty wasn’t a stick, thank the Goddess. Some human women starved themselves down to skin and bones and thought it looked good. Insanity.
Misty had round breasts, arms that were plump from shoulders to elbow then tapered into soft wrists and small hands. Strong hands—she worked hard in her store, carrying plants, heavy pots and baskets, armloads of flowers, buckets of water. Her legs were sturdy and curved, calves soft and kissable.
Her face—the one all screwed up with her scowl—was round, her nose in perfect proportion. Her eyes were a little too big for a human, but Graham didn’t mind. They were soft brown and surrounded by thick black lashes.
Watching Misty tongue the ice cream had made every cell of him scream in need. She had a little bit of cream on her lips even now.
To hell with it. Graham closed the space between them, jerked her against him, and brought his mouth down on hers.
Misty made a little surprised sound in her throat, and fists contacted his shoulders. Graham tightened his grip, pulling her into him, and licked the cream from her lip in one firm stroke.
Misty stopped fighting. Her lips softened, hesitated, then formed to his.
Fire. Her mouth was heat and everything good. Graham laced his fingers through her hair, pulling it out of the ponytail she’d dragged it into. Soft goodness flowing over his hand.
He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, and Misty made another soft noise. No more protests, no more fists. No more talking.
Misty’s body fitted to his, breasts tight against his torso. He moved his hand down her back, callused fingers catching on her cotton tank. The fabric was so thin he could feel the heat of her skin plus the strap of a bra, tight against her back.
Graham could savor her all day and all night. He licked into her mouth, finding a bite of spice. Thirst went away as he drank her.
Her small hands caressed his shoulders then moved to the back of his neck, above the Collar. She liked to hold on to his neck when they kissed for some reason. Not that Graham minded. She also liked to run her fingers through his short buzz of hair.
Graham kept on kissing her. Misty’s mouth was a joy, her breath warm, her body pliant against his. His cock hadn’t gone down; in fact, it had grown even more rigid. Misty tasted like sunshine, felt like a soft cooling breeze.
If it could be just you and me . . .
We’d unmake the world.
Graham made himself ease the kiss to its end. Misty gazed up at him, eyes warm, her lips parted. Her anger had been erased for now, and what he read in her was desire. Moisture lingered behind her lower lip, and Graham licked it away.
It took all his strength to relax his arms around her, to let go. Misty had been on tiptoe, and now she thumped back on her heels. She stared up at him, unblinking, her lips slightly swollen.
Graham pointed his finger at her face and ended up touching her lightly on the nose. “You and me,” he said. “We’re not done.”
He turned and walked away. Killed him to do it, but you didn’t say an exit line and then not leave the stage. You didn’t even look back to see if she stared after you, longing in her eyes, no matter how much you wanted to.<
br />
• • •
Graham wouldn’t go home. After his searing kiss and the parting shot, Misty expected him to be long gone when she came back inside the house, but no. He was talking to Reid in the living room, his loud, harsh syllables drowning out Reid’s quieter ones.
Xav had cleaned up the broken bowl and given the cubs more ice cream. The two little ones could sure put it away. They’d discovered that licking the ice cream from the spoon was even more fun than licking it from the bowl. They could lick the spoon all over before they scooped up more. After all, Aunt Misty had been licking it from the spoon. So it was all right, wasn’t it?
When they finished, Kyle or Matt said, “Can we play outside, Aunt Misty? We didn’t go out before, because you and Uncle Graham were kissing.”
Xav laughed from where he sat at the table, and Misty’s face went hot. “That’s fine, but don’t mess up my plants. They get hurt easily.”
Matt and Kyle agreed they’d never do anything like that. They half wrestled each other trying to be first to the door, then they started yanking off their clothes.
Before they finished stripping down to their skin, they were shifting, fur rippling, tails popping out. Two fuzzy cubs barreled out the door they’d already opened, yipping all the way.
“They don’t have Collars,” Misty said out loud. She hadn’t noticed that before, but when they’d shucked their T-shirts, she’d seen that their necks had no slash of black and silver Collar to mar them.
“They don’t take Collars until they’re older,” Graham said, coming into the kitchen. “’Cause they’re damn painful. Even humans couldn’t bring themselves to be that cruel.”
Misty let out a breath. “All humans are not that bad, Graham.”
He gave her that look that said he’d lived a hundred years in the harsh wilderness, and she didn’t know what she was talking about. “Yes, they are,” he said.
“Then why are you still here?”
Another look. “Because a Fae is after you, and an ex-cop with bullets isn’t going to stop him.”