Page 12 of Pack Nightmare

“We would, but it’s okay that we don’t, too,” he replies gently. “We always knew you were out there, and we just couldn’t wait to meet you. I think it’s kind of fun that instead of growing up together, knowing each other’s deep dark secrets, we get the chance to meet now. No missing teeth or skinned knees or kid fights. I think, given how our connection has always been here, that’s kind of a special gift. Don’t you?”

Landon’s sudden seriousness takes me by surprise. There’s a thread of deep emotion that stretches between him and me like a chord, tugging on my heart and drawing a surprising sting to my eyes.

“Perhaps,” I agree, a little breathless. “But I’ve been alone for most of my life. I can’t help wondering what it would have been like to have you guys there from day one, that’s all.”

“Well, I can tell you that if that were the case, I wouldn’t have the distinct honor of bringing you here for the first time.” Landon presses gently on my shoulder, turning me toward a storefront. It’s small, with tall windows on either side of the door that are glazed and reflective.

But it’s the sign above that forces me to catch my breath: The Olde Curiosity Shop - fancy used books and more.

“Landon!” I gasp. “This is awesome. How did you know?”

“Eh,” he blushes. “You always want to hang out in the library at Harridan House. Not that big of a leap.”

“No, it’s amazing, and I love it. Come on!” I grab his hand and tug toward the door, and his blush deepens. Somehow, he gets ahead and opens the door for me, leading me straight into Narnia.

Chapter Seven

Landon

Being alone with Layla is quickly becoming my favorite form of torture.

I love my brothers; we’ve been bonded pretty much since birth. I have no qualms about sharing with them.

But having Layla to myself is even better than I imagined.

She loves the oddball little book store. Somehow, I just knew it was the right place to take her the second we got a chance. Dusty, stuffy air that stinks of old paper, and filled with rickety bookshelves overstuffed with ratty books—it’s not exactly my scene.

However, none of that matters because I’m pretty sure Layla is in heaven. She keeps glancing at me with this huge smile, her brilliant green eyes glowing with excitement as she tugs my hand down another crooked row. My pulse pounds in my veins, the air around us taking on that electric quality that seems to happen whenever she’s near.

Layla is chattering excitedly about some old book she found, dropping my hand to grab it and flip through the crumbling pages. I may grin like an idiot, but it’s not for the same reason. I’m just pumped to have made her so happy. I could watch her all day, dogging her steps around the dusty stacks of recycled tree.

She’s paused in front of a high window, golden beams of light shining all around her like a glowing aura she can’t escape. I tuck my hands in my pockets to keep myself out of trouble, and lean against a nearby wall with a sigh. I dunno if she’s gotten hotter in the last couple of months, or if the fated connection between us…

“Woah!” I nearly lose my balance as the shelf I was leaning against wobbles, sending a cascade of ancient books to the floor before I’m able to steady it and prevent the entire thing from tipping over. The noise is deafeningly loud in the near-silent book store.

Layla’s eyes dart up to mine with shock, then she snort-laughs.

My cheeks are already flooded with heat and I glance down at the pile of books, dropping quickly to gather them up.

“What on earth is going on back there?” The creaky voice of the store owner carries around the dusty stacks. “I swear to the goddess, if you’re making a mess, I’m going to call the pack beta…”

Layla snorts even louder and drops to her knees to help me. We quickly arrange the fallen books into a passably neat stack and shove it against the base of the shelf like several others. Her hands land on mine as we add the last few books, electric current passing between us at the touch, and our eyes meet.

“… Hooligans coming in here and making a mess,” the shopkeeper’s mutters are getting closer, along with a thump-thump-thump from her cane.

“Run for it!” I whisper, and Layla grins before popping up and tearing silently down the aisle, disappearing around a corner.

I’m hot on her heels, and I turn at the end of the row only to catch her whipping around the end of the next row, following the aisles like the curves of a snake.

In an open space I could catch her easily, but here my size is a disadvantage as I try to move quietly. I keep my shoulders drawn in to avoid bumping any more bookshelves, and I can’t get up to full speed before I hit another corner.

The heat of embarrassment has left my face, but now it’s just a game of ‘keep away from the ornery shop keeper’ who clearly didn’t realize exactly who is in her store right now. If she did, she certainly wouldn’t be threatening to call Roxanne on us like a couple of misbehaving teenage punks. I can hear her shouting something in the distance, but it’s muffled behind so many twisted shelves of books.

When I turn another corner, I run smack into Layla who is already braced and waiting to catch me. She stops me with both hands to my stomach, which tightens instinctively, before she lifts one finger to her lips with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes.

My chest is heaving for air, and all I can think about is the warmth of her hand through my shirt and how those lips would feel pressed against mine—super jealous of that finger. I try to pay attention to whatever she’s listening for, and then I hear it: faint music as the radio at the front desk clicks on, ostensibly because the owner has returned to her stool and is no longer trying to follow us.

Grinning wickedly, Layla returns the hand to my chest and pushes me backward into a low shelf of books that—mercifully—rests against a wall so it doesn’t topple over. It bites into the backs of my legs and I wince, almost complaining, before I see the look in her eyes.

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