Page 2 of Fanged Temptation

“Hunter, look at it. That poor plant is getting by on bone-dry soil and a dream,” I tutted, arranging my skirt over my knees. “It’s all prickly and sad – like you before your morning coffee.”

Hunter scoffed but the corners of her lips twitched in amusement. “Or you after a few drinks.”

“We don’t talk about that! Honestly, I spend all morning picking out the perfect arrangement and this is the thanks I get.” I popped an exaggerated pout, crossing my legs and flicking a stray petal in her direction. “Remove the prickly pear from your ass and accept the flowers, for god’s sake.”

“Thank you, Maxine,” was her sing-song response, delivered with a devious glint of humor in her eye.

“Whatever. Addison will appreciate them.” I huffed, tossing a curl over my shoulder. “Speaking of, how have things been now that your secret’s out in the open?”

Hunter, however, had no time to respond before the rest of the entourage burst through the door, spearheaded by Jordan who was already outlining the plans for the evening.

“So, we're taking the new lovebirds out on the town tonight. No objections allowed," she declared, pointing at Hunter who groaned over her pile of paperwork.

"Oh my god!” Sky, ever the appreciator of fine things, leaned in to admire the roses. “These are lovely."

"Why thank you, Sky.” I directed my triumphant smirk at Hunter. “At least someone in our sorry group has taste."

Laughter bubbled up as Dylan and Amara squeezed their way through the door, followed by River, making the office decidedly overcrowded but no less merry.

“Jesus, this place is cramped,” River mumbled, edging her way over. “By the way, how the hell did you fit Addison under that desk?”

Hunter buried her face in her arms, but not before shooting me an accusatory glare.

I shrugged, batting my lashes in response. “I had to tell them. It was too funny not to.”

Amara, her eyes twinkling, watched everyone’s reactions before signing a story of her own. “Dylan once pulled me into a wardrobe to avoid having to talk to Maxine, so maybe all the Leyore women are just odd like that.”

Dylan rounded on Amara, hand over her heart at the betrayal.

"Excuse me?!” I proclaimed, feigning indignation. “I am nothing if not a delight to deal with."

River nudged Amara, signing back with a wry smile, “Delightfully obnoxious, maybe.”

And so it continued, the jabs and chides and lighthearted banter that grounded our growing family. I listened, nodding, smiling, but my eyes kept returning to the roses. My mind kept catching on that brief streak of red.

I stared at the red petals. Red like her hair. Red like the bridge I used to cross every morning just to see her. And I wondered then if I would ever see her again.

It was late afternoon when I finally excused myself from the celebrations, slipping out of High Stakes with a promise to catchup with everyone when they hit the first bar. It was plain impulse that carried me back to the flower district, back to 7th street where the storefronts were closing and the streetlamps were flickering to life.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to find, chasing ghosts across the city, but my feet propelled me onward. Until I was standing outside the window of that flower shop, right where I’d first caught that brief streak of red.

The place was empty, the lights shut off, and I stared at my reflection in the glass, trying and failing to catch hold of that loose thread dangling from my heart. It was a thread that had once connected me to someone, a thread I had severed myself a long time ago.

A thread that had suddenly pulled taut again.

I sensed her before I saw her. Some intrinsic part of my soul felt her presence long before I turned – slowly – dragging my gaze from the window to the sidewalk where she stood. Red hair, red coat. Red brows furrowed over a lightly freckled face.

Leah.

Her hair was a little longer now, draped over the shoulder pads of her burgundy coat, and the fringe was new but she wore it well. Her face had narrowed with age, but her eyes were the same, that deep vivid green of the sea. She was just as breathtaking as she had always been, even more so.

And from the fierce look in her eyes, roiling like an ocean storm, I could tell immediately that she was very, very angry.

2

Leah

‘Furious’ would be a good word to describe what I was feeling while I stared across the street at the woman I used to know. It was fury and something else, a sensation like stark relief, like a long exhale after years of holding your breath. Like my heart was whispering, Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.

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