Page 12 of Moonlight's Mate
He spun the bike in a tight circle, leaning hard and forcing her to line her body up with his. But as they headed down valley through the crisp morning air, she found herself grateful for the close proximity. His broad shoulders blocked the wind, and even through his leathers and her heavy coat, his body heat burned her. She’d forgotten her gloves, though, so she sneaked her hands inside his waistband, finding blazing-hot bare skin.
His scarred abs contracted to escape her ice-cold fingers, but the Harley never wavered. Even when his growl was lost in the bike’s rumble, she still felt it in her bones. She grinned at the back of his head, knowing he would sense her amusement just as clearly.
They pulled into the alley behind Orson’s bungalow, and Beck halted. He held her elbow, steadying her as she dismounted. At his touch, the vibrations seemed to keep humming in her body. She slanted a glance at him as he shut down the bike and called Orson from the cell phone that looked ridiculously tiny in his big hand.
It had been…odd having him in her house. She always told herself she liked her privacy too much to have many guests. Plus, she could never haveanyAlphas claiming her space. But when she saw Beck sitting in one of the two chairs facing her mountain view, she realized she did havetwochairs. She’d never really asked herself why.
He finished his call and looked over at her. “He said the quartet should be finishing up soon. They’ll meet us at the bar.”
She nodded and pushed through the back gate.
Her hunter’s eye took in the signs of struggle—the scuffed grass, the upended grill. The iron tongs sticking up out of a puddle of greenish gunk.
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting.”
“It wasn’t much better when it still had three legs and one eyeball.” Beck circled the imp remains.
She sniffed more cautiously, parsing the scents of charcoal, rot and grizzly-kind musk. Underneath was the hint of wolf-kind. And beneath that, an elusive fragrance, strangely sweet. She crouched next to the pile of stinking jelly streaked with black char where the iron speared it.
The perfume was coming from the imp. “It smells like cotton candy.”
“Orson says all the fae have a wonder to them, even the grotesque ones.” When Beck prodded the tongs, the jelly sizzled, sending up a puff of oily smoke and another whiff of scorched sugar.
She’d recognize the scent from now on. She stood. “We need more iron.”
At the general store, to their consternation, they found few usable items.
“Steel’s a better choice,” the owner, Bill, told them. “Won’t rust.”
Since Bill was a none-the-wiser human, they couldn’t very well tell him they needed to slay creatures that lived only in his children’s bedtime stories.
Merrilee smiled at him. “I was thinking about taking a stab”—she slanted a sly glance at Beck—“at blacksmithing.”
Bill rubbed his chin. “Well, maybe you could melt something down.”
They walked out with a set of fireplace tools, a decorative door stop in the shape of a hedgehog, and Bill’s advice to visit Claudia’s Antique Emporium up the street.
“That old gal is made of iron herself,” he said.
Merrilee hefted the ash hoe and poker, which felt nicely like weapons, and left Beck to carry the hedgehog as they headed up the sidewalk.
She stabbed experimentally with the poker. “Didn’t Claudia propose to you once?”
He glowered at her. “She’s proposed to everyone in town at least once, but only when she’s been drinking.”
“So you weren’t interested?”
“I gave her a pot of coffee. Not as good as your coffee, of course.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t settled down yet.” She swung the hoe with more force. “Almost two years since you got back and took over for your uncle, and you don’t even have a Beta, much less a mate. What are you waiting for?”
“I have my pack and my job, same as you. What more do I need?”
“Yeah.” The iron pulled heavily at her arm; she’d have to watch out for that.
The old house with a touch of Victoriana that was Claudia’s Antique Emporium displayed mostly plastic and glass knickknacks in the front windows. Merrilee’s mood plummeted lower as they walked into the kitschy little front yard with its dozen concrete birdbaths and tribe of lawn gnomes. “If the fae can be chased off with bad taste, I think we’re on to something here.”
Beck gave her a reproving glance. “You’ve never even been inside, I bet. Claudia has a lot of nice homey décor and wearable art.” He ignored her snort. “More to the point, she keeps farm salvage in the barn out back.”
