Page 6 of Charmed and Dangerous

He gave her what he probably thought was a sexy smile, but only seemed predatory to her, one that seemed a little too dark, too dangerous. “Hey baby, we’re just getting started. How about we take a little break and go over to that set of trees and get to know each other better?”

He laid a hand very high on her thigh and stroked. She recoiled, jumped up and stumbled backwards and into Saul, who had also stood up at her reaction. “I said no.”

Saul took in the scene at a glance. He roared in the werewolf’s face, his canines lengthening. He pulled Maeve to him and kissed her, his lips settling over hers in a deeply possessive kiss she had never dreamed of having or even wanting.

For a long moment she froze in his arms, her legs dangling off the ground, then heat exploded in her and she wound herarms around his neck, pressing her body into him, and kissed him back. His tongue licked at her lips, demanding entry to her mouth, and she opened eagerly for him, her own tongue meeting his. His hands slid down to grip her ass and hoist her further up, closer to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist to settle more firmly against him, lost in the sensations of touch and heat spiraling between them.

Suddenly, a splash of ice cold water cascaded over them and they broke apart, sputtering and coughing.

“What the hell was that?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Saul Grimsbane. This is a family event,” Mayor Elwyn said, disapproval radiating from every word, his wand held high after casting the spell that sent water over both of them.

Saul lowered Maeve to her feet, and she pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. She glanced wildly around at all the shocked faces staring at her and her soaking wet clothing. Then, unable to deal with it, she bolted from the festival, evading Saul’s grasp and ignoring all the calls for her to come back.

Saul didn't knowwhat happened. One minute he had his arms full of the curvy, glorious female body that was Maeve Whisper, kissing her and it felt like heaven. The next minute, she was tearing herself away from him, looking at him with horrified eyes and running as fast as she could. He found himself surrounded by a group of BrewFest officials yelling at him, demanding to know what the hell he had been thinking of. To be honest, he didn’t know what he’d been thinking. All he knew was that when he saw that wolf shifter’s hand touching her, he wanted to rip that hand from the male and beat him with it. ButMaeve didn’t like blood, or the associated cleanup. So he did the next best thing. He staked his claim.

He looked around frantically, wondering where Maeve had gone, while the people were buzzing about like annoying gnats. He saw her talking to Phoebe Dupree and cursed under his breath. Of course, it would have to be Phoebe and the fucking Dupree sisters. He should have known that they would have something to do with this. It had to have been their potion that affected them. They must’ve fucked it up somehow. They weren’t satisfied with just obliterating his taste buds or making him nauseated. No, they had to fuck up his life, and now Maeve’s, too. Though he honestly didn’t regret that kiss one bit. He only regretted that he didn’t have more time with her, in a more intimate setting where he could explore her further.

The Duprees had a lot to answer for and he would not stand for it. He pushed through the crowd, shoving the people aside like tiny little mosquitos. Before he could take off, however, his sister stepped in front of him, blocking him better than any lineman. She grabbed his arm and growled at him. He roared at her, on edge from seeing his mate running from him, and she slapped him. He froze, stunned by her action.

She planted her hands on her hips, still between him and Maeve, and glared at him. “Don’t you dare go after her like this. If you do that, you’ll scare her more than you already have.”

His bear whimpered inside, realizing the truth of what Sacha was saying. The anger drained out of him as Maeve disappeared in the distance. He gave his sister a despairing look. “What do I do? I need to know she’s okay.”

A small smile curved her lips. A knowing smile. “Then do it right, brother. Do it right.”

He glared at everybody around him, who were staring in a mixture of fear and awe. He growled in frustration, still feeling the effects of that damned potion. Or maybe it was just angerand his bear demanding that he go after his mate, because he now knew his sister had been right the previous day. The kiss only confirmed it. Maeve was his mate. And she had run from him, afraid of him. That was unacceptable. He had to make sure she was okay, then he had to win her over. But first, he had to deal with whatever the hell the Duprees had done.

“Give me the fucking antidote. Now.”

Everybody jumped. Nobody wanted an out-of-control, pissed-off grizzly shifter in their midst. They handed him three glasses of antidote because nobody knew exactly what the potion was made of or how much a grizzly shifter should take to counteract it, even though the judge, Hilda Digby, swore Saul was given the placebo potion and not the real one. Saul wasn’t taking any chances. He wanted no doubts in anyone’s mind, especially Maeve’s, that he was under the influence of anything. So, he found himself choking down three doses of bitter, oatmeal-like antidote and chewing the chalky bezoar just to be sure. He didn’t care about any of that. He needed to see Maeve and know she was okay. The rest, he’d figure out.

He slammed the glass on the table, and it shattered. He glared at Sacha. “Satisfied, now?”

She gave a half a little bow and a little flourish towards the parking lot. “Have at it, brother. Go get your mate.”

He snarled, and stomped off, growling at the Duprees, who scurried out of the way. He wanted to roar and chase them, but he had more important things to deal with, including calming down before seeing Maeve.

A short while later, he pulled his black pickup to the Whisper mansion and sat in the driveway for several minutes. Would she even let him in? The place looked quiet, and no one came out to see why a loud truck was parked in the driveway. He got out and headed for the front door, but Maeve’s scent wasn’t strong there. In fact, it was so slight that it was clear she hadn’t come that wayin a while. He went back to the drive and began sniffing for her. He considered shifting to his bear, who had a much better nose, when he finally caught her trail, going around the side of the house to the back.

Following the trail, he saw a small greenhouse in the distance, tucked between a set of trees. It looked like the perfect spot for Maeve. A small, isolated spot all to herself, where she would feel safe, secure, and private. And now he was going to invade her space. A big ass grizzly shifter, stomping about the place. He scared her on good days. This wasn’t one of those days. Maybe he needed to consider another strategy.

As he stood there, considering his next steps, staring at the greenhouse several yards away, an older woman approached. She had to be at least in her eighties, if not older. She wore a multi-colored caftan and was heavily made up with bright red lipstick and rouge. Her blue eyeshadow was surrounded by thick, red-framed glasses, and she had fire engine red hair. She was leaning on a carved wooden ash cane that looked old and reeked of power.

She stared at him with a narrowed gaze, then she poked him with her cane. He flinched, half-expecting to be changed into a toad or something. “What do you be doing here?”

He looked at her for a moment, feeling the power she wore around her like a cape. She was one of Maeve’s relatives, with an echo of power surrounding her like a cloak. The Whisper family was an ancient and magically gifted family in Grimm Mawr, but he’d never sensed the same level of talent around Maeve. He took a deep breath, sensing that this moment could mean everything in his pursuit of Maeve.

“I’m here for Maeve.”

The old woman cackled as she leaned into the old stereotypes about witches. But he kind of liked her. “Do she want to see you?”

“Doubtful,” he admitted, sensing he’d better be honest with this woman, Maeve’s aunt or grandmother.

The older woman’s pencil-thin eyebrow arched. “Maeve is a good girl. She may not like you.”

Saul smiled in a way that was confident in his appeal, hoping it would work on the older woman too. “She likes me just fine. She just needs to get over her fear.”

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