Page 107 of Real Fake Hauntings

There was a loud clink, and a spotlight flooded us and the mausoleum behind.

A chorus of loud gasps and a startled shriek filled the air.

Shading my eyes, I turned toward the noise. Key and a tour group gaped at us from the far path. Oh. Oh, no. The faulty spotlight. How was I going to explain this?

There was only one thing to do.

“Oh, my God!” I pointed at Ian. “It’s Garreth the Hound!”

Ian paused. Then he tilted his head back and howled at the moon.

THIRTY-TWO

The group burst into applause, and Ian looked at me with retribution in his eyes. Uh-oh. The moment Key distracted the group, I turned around and ran. Ian caught me a few seconds later. He nudged me on the side, sending me sprawling onto the grass. Gasping for air, I rolled onto my back as a series of snapping noises filled my ears.

In the next instant, Ian loomed over me in his human form, his naked body pressing me against the ground as he peered into my eyes.

My hands automatically went to his upper arms, then ran along the smooth skin up to his shoulders, mapping the contours of his muscles and the small scars on his skin.

His eyes were a bright green, visible in the darkness surrounding us away from the spotlight, his expression unreadable in the shadows created by the short curtain of his hair. His arms slid under me, caging me, and it should’ve made me wary or scared, but I found I liked it. My heart did too, kicking around inside my chest as if it wanted to be absorbed by him.

As he studied me and I studied him and neither of us spoke a word, I realized no words were needed.

I leaned upward and licked the delicious skin of his shoulder.

We stilled.

Oh, Good Mother Earth, did I just do that?

He arched his brows. “I’m sweaty.”

He was delicious, that’s what he was. The knowledge didn’t stop my face from growing so hot I hoped he had hoses nearby because I might set the grass on fire. Tentatively, I rubbed my hands down his biceps again and whispered, “I don’t care.”

For a moment, I thought he might lean down and nuzzle my neck, but he remained still, intent. “You ran away.”

“Not very hard,” I pointed out.

He showed no signs of amusement at my jest, his gaze roving my face as if he was trying to read my soul. “Why are you so scared, Hope?”

Suddenly, there was not enough air to be had. My chest grew tight, my fingers clenching around his arms. I swallowed hard, words already forming on my tongue telling him I didn’t know what he was talking about and that I wasn’t scared, but the look in his eyes stopped me.

Those eyes, glittering with something deep. And yet, he was not pushing, not demanding. He was simply asking.

I took a deep breath. Ian had shifted for me. He had broken his own rules because I was in danger and he needed me safe. He deserved my real thoughts. And, for the first time, I allowed the tiny, tiny voice in the back of my mind that had held me back all this time to bubble up to the surface.

“The paranormal world is harsh.” Tears formed out of nowhere, and I blinked them away, concentrating on Ian’s eyes.

“And?”

I swallowed hard. “I… I don’t want to wake up one day and have only a spellbook to remember you by.”

His expression softened, his eyes growing tender as he studied me again. “There’s more.”

Biting my lip, I nodded. “What if I don’t get the shop?” I blurted out, and the dam broke open, sending words tumbling out of me. “What if they give it to someone else and I can’t stay in Olmeda? What if they decide I’m not good enough and I have to go back home and I can’t be here, and what will I do?”

I breathed in big gulps of air, my heart hammering now, demanding an exit from my chest.

“Shh.” Ian leaned down and rubbed his cheek against mine. “Easy now.”

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