Page 43 of The Bookseller and the Alpha
Calypso
Simon continued to hold my hand lightly in his. His eyes were shut as he chanted the words of the spell. A light sweat beaded on his forehead as he concentrated, frowning. The tug in my chest grew slowly stronger, the pinch sharper. I gritted my teeth. If I let go of his hand now it would stop the working. Simon would need to begin again and our efforts so far would be wasted. I tried to breathe through the pain. It helped a little, for a while. Then the tug became a burn in my chest. The burn grew and grew, until it was fire, consuming me. Flames licking along my bones. I bit my lip against the urge to scream. A groan built in my throat. The muscles in my arm tensed involuntarily and sweat broke out on my skin. I wanted to curl up, curl in against the pain.
But I needed to prove that I could do this. I wouldn’t quit. Simon was depending on me. The world narrowed to the source of my pain. Simon’s voice had turned thin and reedy but his hand now held mine in a death grip. Bile rose in my throat as my body combusted. I. Would. Not. Quit. I didn’t recognise the sounds coming from my throat.
The words, “We’re done,” barely penetrated the fog in my brain but then Simon released my fingers and the suddencessation of pain was such a relief I almost toppled off the chair. Oh gods. I was going to puke. Or fall over. Maybe both.
I heard the door open and rapid footsteps crossed the room. I opened bleary eyes. Luc took one look at my face, which must have turned pasty green.
“Fuck,” his voice was low and angry. Before I could even try to stand, he’d moved in close, Shifter fast, and I was in his arms. Mmmm. That helped. Being pressed against a strong muscled chest. I could hear the thump of his heart against my cheek. I closed my eyes, still boneless as if I were drunk, but the feeling of nausea passed. I could get used to this. I was already getting used to this. My body liked having him protect me, hold me in his arms and kiss my forehead, just the way he was doing now.
“Fuck, dad. You took too much.” Luc’s voice was layered with gravel.
“The spell was trapped.” Simon’s voice was thick with exhaustion. He sounded as though the ritual had been as hard on him as on me. “Unless you wanted bits of us spread around the room, we couldn’t stop.”
Luc cursed again. “Are you all right, old man?”
“Don’t go all mother hen on me,” Simon said. “It’s nothing that a bit of food and drink won’t fix. For both of us,” he added. He got to his feet. His face was pale but his stance steady enough. He met my eyes and smiled. The dimple re-appeared. “We did it.”
“Next time you can find someone else to be your battery,” Luc said.
I pushed his chest. It was as about as effective as trying to push a wall. “Hey, you don’t get to go all caveman on me. I said I’d help, and I did.”
Flame blue eyes met mine. Luc's shoulders strained at the seams of his shirt and claws snagged on my shirt. His controlwas shredded because he thought I was hurt. If that wasn’t hot, I didn’t know what was. Other than my sister, no-one had ever cared about me that much.
I pressed closer to his body, whispering, “I’m all right, big guy, I promise. And now there’s less chance of me randomly sending things flying around my apartment.”
He shuddered and some of the blue bled out of his eyes. I heard thesnickof claws retracting. He pressed his forehead against mine and held me tightly as he let the tension flow from his body. “Let’s all have some food and we can read the damn book.”
Marguerite was serving up something that smelled delicious when Luc carried me into the dining nook next to the kitchen. My stomach cramped. I needed food. Marguerite turned and winked at me. I couldn’t reply. I was still trying to wrap my head around being here, with the former President, my maybe-mate’s mother. She looked just as comfortable in this kitchen, wearing white slacks and a fitted shirt, as she had looked in the Presidential Palace in the news videos I’d watched growing up. She seemed relaxed and friendly, and now she had winked at me. How was this my life?
***
“It’s part of a spell for smothering magic,” Simon said. “Here.” He shoved the book in my direction. I read the words that we’d uncovered. My gut clenched. Dark magic. Strong magic. Runes of binding. Of stifling and smothering. I chewed my lip as anxiety curled inside me. “This would take a huge amount of power,” I said to the room in general.
“A whole coven,” Simon said. Marguerite had served him a plateful of food. He hadn’t started eating, focused on the journal.
In my ear, Luc said, “Enough, it’s time to eat. You can work it out later.” There was still a hint of his Shifter in his voice. I looked down to see that while I’d been reading the text in the journal, he had served me an enormous portion of spiced chicken and a serving of salad.
“I can’t eat all that,” I protested.
“You will,” he said. “Starting now.” He lifted a piece of chicken onto my fork and held it to my mouth. His gaze was laser-focused on my lips. My belly fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with food. I understood the subtext. Food was significant in Shifter culture. This morning Luc had cooked for me. He had waited to start his food until I’d begun to eat. I hadn’t joined the dots yesterday, or even at breakfast, because he hadn’t yet Declared his Intent. I had thought he was being protective and bossy, but I hadn’t got the full message. Now I did. He was feeding me. An Alpha would feed their mate before themselves. If I refused the food, it would send a message that I wasn’t interested.
And as much my own feelings confused me, that was very far from the truth.
I smiled and opened my lips, letting Luc feed me. The sauce was delicious and rich, and I licked a drop from the side of my mouth. From across the table, Marguerite let out a sigh of satisfaction and picked up her own fork. Oh gods and goddesses. Embarrassment heated my cheeks. The former freaking President had waited to eat until I’d accepted food from Luc.
But no-one made a big deal of it. As I devoured the delicious meal, I slowly accepted that this was normal Shifter culture. Marguerite was his mother, and this was a part of her world. My embarrassment died down as we ate. Luc had allowed me to feed myself after I’d taken the first few mouthfuls from him.
As soon as we were all finished, Simon turned back to the text. “It would need a full coven, at least.”
“It would explain the portals,” Luc said.
“Portals?” Marguerite’s voice was sharp like a whip. “Tell me.” This was the woman who had negotiated the Treaty between supes and humans, ending the war.
I told my part of the story and Luc filled his mother in on the remaining burglary in the freight centre.
“So, we have a coven with enough power to create portals, and part of a spell of smothering. What do they want?” Simon’s voice was contemplative. “Or, to be more precise, who is their target?”
