Page 8 of Charisma

“That would be disastrous,” I concur, not willing to travel to a place in my mind where we’ve been exposed. It would be the termination of our kind and we’d never experience a day of peace afterward. We already live in hiding, but there’d be no place we would find that would ever keep us safe from hunters. We’ve made ourselves a nice little homestead here, I’d hate to uproot us all and go on the run. We have cubs to think about now. We have no choice but to tread carefully and be more cautious of what we do and say when we cross into mortal agglomerations.

“It would be devastating to the supernatural and paranormal community as a whole. We’d all be trapped, exploited, killed, and experimented on.” She substantiates with a quake of her body which has goosebumps rising and pebbling on her flesh.

“We’re doing a good job of ignoring the elephant in the room,” I supply, wanting to get it out in the air so we can deal with it. I don’t do wishy-washy well. I need the facts laid out on the table and a decision made so I know how to plan.

“Just for a little bit. We have a lot to discuss, but we have plenty of time. Let’s spend some time getting to know each other better.”

“We know each other, Charisma,” I contend, because in my mind we know each other well enough. We just have a lot to still explore about each other. My bear and I are in agreement about where our exploration should begin. And it’s not in a platonic way.

“We know each other, but don’tknoweach other,” she disputes, imploring me with her eyes to play along and give her this out.

“I’ll give you this for now,” I say, giving in.

“Thank you.”

“So, twenty questions?” I ask.

“Twenty questions,” she agrees.

“Let the games begin, Charisma.”

“Bring it, snow bear.”

“Oh, I’ll bring it, Vampiress. I’ll ignite the fire, but can you handle the blistering scorch?”

BALDWIN

“What’syour favorite thing to do?” I inquire.

“Outside of keeping Esme on her toes?” she teases. I watch as she closes her eyes and appears to concentrate. Finally, she reopens her beautiful orbs and remarks, “I’ve always loved flowers. Planting them, watching them grow, putting them in arrangements. There’s something therapeutic about getting my hands dirty. I can empty my mind of anything bothering me while bringing some beauty into this godforsaken world.”

Huh. She hides this side of her well. She’s a ballbuster and has never had dirt beneath her fingernails that I’ve witnessed. Yet, it’s a different piece of the puzzle that is Charisma, so I keep digging, wanting her to keep talking, and letting me in. “So, the plants surrounding your bungalow are your doing?” I probe.

“Yes. I also dabble a bit with some herbs, mostly to help Esme so she can make the tinctures and potions she uses to help the townspeople,” she discloses. “It’s not as much fun as seeing a flower open and bloom, but it still has its purpose and I like feeling as though I’m contributing in some small way.”

“Have you ever been in a long-term relationship?” This time, I can’t help the rumble coming from my chest at the thought of her being intimate with someone other than me. Of a man kissing or sucking on those succulent lips, hearing the noises she makes when she’s in the throes of passion. Yeah, maybe this wasn’t the best question to ask, but I did blurt the question out, so now I’ll be composed, keep my calm, and wait sedately for her answer.

Her tinkling laugh has me looking at her in consternation. “Really? You know how old I am, Baldwin. Do you seriously think at my age I’d be an untried virgin?”

“Maybe we need to wait on the rest of our twenty questions until you’re feeling better,” I grumble out, not liking where this line of discussion is going.

CHARISMA

“Oh, shush, Baldwin. To answer your question, no, I’ve never had an especially long-term relationship with anyone.” I spent too many years ensuring peace within my coven after helping Rowina make her great escape to be bothered with it, to be honest,” I confess. But I don’t go further than that, after all, he doesn’t need to knowallof my secrets—just yet. Deciding to turn the tables and put the spotlight on him, I ask, “What about you? Any she-bears I need to worry about? Kinda like my eyes, don’t need a distraught floozy trying to scratch them out.”

I watch in fascination as his normally tanned skin turns ruddy. Looks like I might’ve hit a nerve or two. Irrational jealousy courses through me, making me want to ask Esme to use her scry and find the hapless bitch who dared to touch him. But that’s an unreasonable feeling, considering I had a life before him, so why wouldn’t he have had one as well?

“I had a few girlfriends throughout the years, but because I’m a shifter, I knew early on they weren’t my mate, Risma. It never went past scratching an itch that my bear needed scratched. He was feeling dejected, and I was lonely. Things never went any farther than that. I swear.”

Still, even with his honest and sincere answer, my gut clenches in response, and I can feel my ire capsizing. If I don’t tread this landmine easily, the ship will wreck, and I’ll end up dragging its furry captain down with me.

The question is,whyam I so damn angry?

It’s not as if I expected him to be as pure as the driven snow. Maybe because this whole bonding thing is new to me. The unwarranted jealousy is a whole new experience. At the beginning level in the stage of love, how do couples come out unscathed? Because seriously, I want to decimate towns until I find the damn Jezebels and remove their hearts while they beat in their chest. My feathers are ruffled, and I cross my arms protectively over my chest to hold all of my anger inside. I can’t let it leak or this whole mating thing will be over before it even has the chance to begin. Huffing out an aggravated breath, I gain a semblance of control and nod.

“Is that upsetting you?” he inquisitively asks. Holding up his hand before I can respond, he proceeds, “Because it pisses me the fuck off to eventhinkof someone touching you. I didn’t expect that at all. I want to find your past conquests, rip their fangs from their gums with a pair of tweezers while watching them bleed out. Stake them out beneath the blistering sun while the wildlife shreds them. I don’t understand why I’m so irrationally beyond upset about it, either.”

Good to know I’m not the only one affected and experiencing a murderous rage. I giggle, feeling lighter, then acknowledge, “Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t speak about that part of our pasts. It’s a guarantee that we’ve both got one, especially me given how old I am. Wait, does that bother you? The fact I’m so much older than everyone else here?”

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