Page 19 of Claws for Celebration
"Jesus, Lucien. These look like claw marks." Her fingers hovered over the worst of the wounds without quite touching, as if she was afraid of causing him additional pain. "What kind of hiking accident leaves injuries like this?"
"The kind that involves unexpected encounters with local wildlife," he said carefully, watching her face for signs of suspicion or disbelief.
"Wildlife." Her tone suggested she found his explanation less than convincing, but she began cleaning the wounds with gentle efficiency instead of pressing for details. "Right. Well, whatever attacked you, it got you good."
The careful attention she paid to each injury, the way she bit her lower lip in concentration while applying antiseptic, the unconscious gentleness of her touch as she worked, all combined to create an intimacy that felt more profound than anything he'd experienced in decades of carefully controlled existence.
"There," she said finally, securing the last bandage with hands that had grown steadier as she worked. "That should hold until you can get proper medical attention."
"This is proper medical attention," Lucien said, catching her hand before she could step away. "Thank you."
The contact sent familiar electricity arcing between them, and for a moment, the air in the bookstore felt charged with possibilities.
"You scared me," Moira admitted quietly, her thumb tracing unconscious patterns across his knuckles. "When you didn't come back, I started imagining all sorts of terrible things."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."
"Promise me you won't go hiking alone in the dark anymore. Whatever's out there, it's dangerous."
If only she knew how dangerous, and how much more dangerous it was becoming every day as her power grew stronger. But looking into her concerned brown eyes, feeling the warmth of her small hand in his much larger one, Lucien found himself making a promise he had no intention of keeping.
"I promise to be more careful," he said, which was true even if it wasn't the whole truth.
As dawn light grew stronger outside the bookstore windows and Moira continued fussing over his injuries with fierce protectiveness, Lucien realized that his greatest challenge wouldn't be protecting her from the supernatural threats that her awakening magic attracted.
His greatest challenge would be protecting her from the truth about what he was willing to do to keep her safe.
12
MOIRA
The morning air carried the scent of fresh bread and brewing coffee as Moira pushed through the door of The Griddle & Grind. She'd barely slept after the events of the previous night, her mind replaying the moment she'd seen Lucien's stained shirt and bloodied skin, the careful way he'd moved as if every breath caused him pain.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Twyla called from behind the counter, her hair catching the morning sunlight. "You look like you wrestled with a pillow all night and lost."
"Something like that," Moira admitted, settling onto one of the vintage stools at the counter. The familiar warmth of the café wrapped around her like a comfort blanket, though it couldn't quite chase away the energy that seemed to be buzzing beneath her skin since dawn.
"Let me guess," Twyla said, already reaching for the coffee pot. "Someone kept you up past your bedtime with worry and wonder?"
The knowing tone in Twyla's voice made Moira look up sharply. "How could you know that?"
"Honey, this is a small town. Word travels fast when our local bookstore owner comes limping through the streets at dawn looking like he tangled with a mountain lion." Twyla poured steaming coffee into a ceramic mug painted with wildflowers. "And when said bookstore owner's research partner spends the night fussing over his injuries like a mama bear protecting her cub."
Heat flooded Moira's cheeks. "It wasn't like that. He was hurt, and I happened to be there. Basic human decency, nothing more."
"Uh-huh." Twyla slid a plate containing a still-warm blueberry scone across the counter. "And I suppose the way you two look at each other is also basic human decency?"
"We don't look at each other any particular way," Moira protested, though even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. The memory of Lucien's dark green eyes watching her as she'd cleaned his wounds was burned into her consciousness, along with the way his breath had hitched when her fingers accidentally brushed uninjured skin.
"Right. And I'm the Queen of England." Twyla leaned against the counter with the satisfied expression of someone who'd made her point. "Sugar, you've got it bad for our mysterious bookkeeper, and anyone with functioning eyeballs can see it."
Moira took a careful sip of coffee, buying time to organize her thoughts. The truth was more complicated than simple attraction, though she couldn't deny that element existed. Caring for Lucien's injuries had created an intimacy she hadn't expected, a tenderness that went beyond professional courtesy or friendly concern.
"It's complicated," she said finally.
"The best ones usually are." Twyla began wiping down the already spotless counter with unnecessary vigor. "Want to talk about what's making it complicated?"
"He's..." Moira searched for words that could adequately describe the enigma that was Lucien Vale. "There's more to him than he lets on. Sometimes when he looks at me, it's like he's seeing something I don't even know exists. And last night, those injuries..."
