Page 7 of Charmed and Dangerous

She wasn’t affected at all by his charm. “We’ll see about that.” She narrowed her gaze. “You be a bear. You playing with my Maeve or she be your mate?”

He drew himself up taller. “She’s my mate,” he said indignantly.

The older woman studied him intently for a long moment, nodding to herself. “That be changing things.” She pointed her cane at a bench under a willow tree. “Sit. I’ll see if she’s receiving and willing to see you.”

He sensed that was an order and not an option. He didn’t want to piss off the older woman, because he really needed her as an ally. And since he didn’t want to be turned into a toad for eternity, Saul headed for the bench and sat.

The woman smiled approvingly. “Good boy. You can be trained. Maeve will be happy to hear that.”

She headed for the greenhouse while he sat and twiddled his thumbs.

Chapter

Three

Maeve fled the BrewFest, horrified by her actions. She didn’t know what had come over her to climb Saul like a tree. But when he growled at the wolf shifter next to her, her only thought had been to get as close as possible to him, to feel his body surrounding hers. That was unlike her, so, on her way to the parking lot, when she saw the Dupree sisters trying to duck behind the bushes, she confronted them. And their words only horrified her further.

“A love potion? What the hell were they thinking? Love potions never work. They always backfire. Any good potions master knows this. Stupid, stupid witches,” she muttered under her breath as she pulled out bowls and her mother’s notebook.

A knock at the greenhouse door distracted her for a moment, but she ignored it. Hazel, her honey badger familiar, perked up on the table, probably hoping for food. The door opened anyway and her great-aunt Geillis slipped inside in a cloud of lavender. She hobbled over to the bench where Maeve was setting up, watching her silently for a long moment. Hazel curled up in her little bed when she saw who it was, knowing she wasn’t going to get anything from Aunt Geillis, at least not in front of Maeve, who was convinced that Hazel was getting a little chonky.

“So, you created quite the stir at the BrewFest,” her aunt commented.

Maeve groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Though her aunt probably loved it. Now she had something juicy to gossip about with her ancient crones that she called friends. She wouldn’t care that it was her great-niece. Everyone was fair game to the old bats and their back-fence chatter. Old witches.

“He be a fine specimen of male. Grizzly if I’m not mistaken. I took a grizzly for a spin once. That was a fun ride.” Her aunt’s gaze had a faraway look in them, and a secret smile curved her lips.

Maeve shuddered. She did not want to think of her aunt and a grizzly in any kind of sexual pose, especially when the only grizzly she could picture was Saul. That was just so wrong.

Her aunt settled herself on a stool where she often perched when Maeve was working. She propped her chin on the cane and stared off at the plants, dropping her mystical old lady affection that she used with strangers to avoid conversation. “Here’s the thing about grizzlies. They’re overbearing, obnoxious, protective to the point of smothering, and general pains the asses. They’re loud, single-minded in their focus, and think they’re always right. They’re also intensely devoted to their family and mates, never stray, and are amazing lovers.”

Maeve eyed her aunt warily, pausing in the act of gathering the herbs she needed for the love potion antidote. “Why are you telling me this?”

“That’s why I couldn’t stay with my grizzly lover. I didn’t need that kind of smothering in my life. I didn’t want a mate or a partner at all. I was happy being free,” Aunt Geillis said.

Maeve's heart twisted. “And then you were stuck with me.”

Her aunt turned that laser focus on Maeve. “Never think that, dear. I love you. I never regretted coming here and living withyou. I may not have wanted my own family, but I adored the one I got. I’m honored to have been here for you all these years.”

Tears pricked Maeve’s eyes, and she ducked her head and began working the pestle to crush the herbs for the potion. Aunt Geillis hated emotions, so Maeve hid them often. “I’m sorry you left your lover.”

Aunt Geillis stomped her cane on the stone floor. Hazel came awake with a squeak, then slunk away to find a quieter place to sleep. “Didn’t you hear me, girl? I left him. He was getting too clingy and the last thing I needed was a mate, hovering over me, smothering me. No, I needed my freedom. I’m telling you this because you need to understand what you’re getting into.”

Maeve frowned. “Getting into? I don’t understand.”

Aunt Geillis pointed with her cane down the row of plants out the window of the greenhouse. Maeve leaned forward and sucked in a breath at the large, hunched figure sitting on the wrought-iron bench next to the rose bushes. “No, he didn’t follow me.”

Her aunt cackled. “He sure did.”

Maeve frantically began crushing herbs and dumping them into the cauldron. “I have to get the potion mixed. The Dupree sisters made a love potion. I have to give him the antidote.”

Her aunt reached across the table and settled her hand on Maeve’s. “Dear, bears aren’t affected by love potions. They’re driven by one thing. Their mating instincts. If he’s here, it’s because his bear is telling him to be here.”

Maeve shook her head in a frenzied fashion. “No, no. He calls me mouse. He thinks I’m prey. He’s only here because I ran.”

Aunt Geillis smirked. “You ran from a bear? From your mate? Oh yes, you are most definitely prey, but in the best way possible.” Her expression softened. “Dear, he is not your father. He won’t ignore you. His bear won’t let him. He will always be there for you, if you let him. Have courage.”

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