Page 10 of Claimed By the Bookstore Alpha
I approached the booth but Clark was deep in conversation, gesturing with his hands that somehow made even leather gauntlets look graceful.
"Looking for anything specific?" the vendor asked.
"I own a bookstore." I wondered if Clark might react to my voice. "Trying to get a sense of what sells at these events."
Clark tilted his head, coupled with a mischievous glint in his eyes I’d seen before.
"Oh, cool! Which store?" He smirked.
He was playing a game, and despite myself, I wanted to play along.
"Turning Pages."
"Really?" His eyes widened. "I've heard of that place. The owner's supposed to be this mysterious, brooding type who knows everything about books."
"Is that what people say?"
"Oh, definitely. Probably reads ancient poetry by candlelight." He giggled. "Though I heard he recently hosted a children's reading, so maybe he's not as intimidating as everyone thinks."
"Clark." I couldn’t hide my own smile.
"Flynn." He lowered his voice. "I can't believe you're here. What made you change your mind about conventions?"
“You made me curious about the sales patterns, so I thought I'd see what the appeal was."
His smile grew brighter. "You came to a comic convention because of something I said?"
Heat crept over my cheeks and sweat dribbled down my spine. "It's market research."
“Let me show you around. I've been coming to these for years."
Before I could object, he had linked his arm through mine and was steering me away from the book vendor. The casual contact should have made me uncomfortable because I wasn't someone who enjoyed being touched by near-strangers but with Clark it felt natural. And my wolf loved it.
"So Peter Pan?"
He adjusted his feathered cap. "I've been working on a modern retelling. In this version, Peter lives beneath the city in a series of underground tunnels and appears in hacked live streams, while Hook is an evil tech mogul." He plucked at his outfit. “Though my costume fits with the original version.”
"You wrote a book and then dressed as the character to research it?"
"You say that like it's weird."
It was but it was also charming, and exactly the kind of thing I’d expect from him.
We spent the next hour wandering the convention floor. Clark introduced me to vendors he'd worked with, explained the appeal of different genres, and helped me understand why people were willing to pay premium prices for exclusive editions and covers. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myselfinterested in conversations about storylines and character development.
"Try this." He appeared at my elbow with two cups of coffee and what looked like a cookie shaped like a spaceship. "It’s sugar in cookie form. Convention food is unhealthy but tastes amazing."
I bit into the cookie and understood why children got hyper at these events. "This is pure sugar."
"I know, right?" He looked ridiculously pleased with himself. "Want to check out the artist alley?"
The alley was quieter than the main vendor floor, with individual artists displaying their work in small booth spaces. Clark stopped at nearly every table, chatting with the people about their techniques and commissioning processes. He had an easy way of connecting with everyone that I envied because he had a genuine interest coupled with warmth that made strangers want to share their stories.
"You're good at making people feel heard." We moved away from a booth.
He glanced at me. "It's not hard when you want to discover what they're doing."
"It is for me."
