Page 5

NICHOLAS

N icholas paced the length of his office at Shifter's Rest Wildlife Sanctuary, five long strides there, five long strides back. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. He'd been at this for twenty minutes already.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, rubbing at the violet band around his wrist.

His tiger rumbled in agreement—or disagreement, he couldn't tell anymore. The beast had been unusually vocal since the binding incident, alternating between that strange purring and impatient growls whenever Nicholas's thoughts strayed from Sylvie.

Which was approximately never.

A knock at his door interrupted his brooding.

"You're wearing a path in that floor." Delilah, the sanctuary's elderly receptionist, and Rollo's mate peered at him. "And you've been glaring at that light show on your wrist all morning."

Nicholas dropped his arm. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are." Delilah snorted. "That's why you jumped three feet when the coffee maker turned on earlier."

"It startled me."

"Nicholas Whitmore, startled by a coffee maker." She shook her head. "That witch really did a number on you."

His tiger bristled at the perceived slight toward Sylvie. "She didn't do anything," he said, more sharply than intended. "It was an accident."

Delilah raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Well, accident or not, you've got three messages from the Keller twins about their injured hawk, and Ranger Davis called about a bear sighting near the north trail.

" She handed him a stack of message slips.

"Also, you're supposed to be giving a tour to the elementary school in twenty minutes. "

Nicholas took the slips, grateful for the distraction. "Right. Thanks."

"And Nick?" Delilah paused in the doorway. "Maybe consider talking to Sylvie instead of avoiding her. Magical bonds have a way of tightening when you resist them."

"I'm not avoiding her," he lied.

Delilah's knowing look said she didn't believe him for a second. "The supply order from Moonshadow Apothecary came in yesterday. We need someone to pick it up."

Of course they did.

After she left, Nicholas dropped into his chair and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. He'd spent the last twenty-four hours trying to keep his distance from Sylvie, convinced that space would help clear his head—and possibly weaken whatever this magical connection was.

It had backfired spectacularly. The further he stayed, the worse the ache in his chest became. By midnight, he'd been restless enough that his tiger had nearly forced a shift, pacing just beneath his skin.

His phone buzzed with a text from Sylvie.

Need to talk. Are you free?

Nicholas stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the reply button. His tiger growled, impatient.

At the sanctuary. Busy day.

Three dots appeared immediately, then disappeared. Reappeared. Disappeared again. Finally:

Come by the shop after. Important.

He typed back: Will try.

The band around his wrist flashed, a sharp zap of energy shooting up his arm.

"Ow! What the—" He shook his hand, glaring at the violet light. "Fine! I'll go!"

I'll be there, he amended in a new text.

The band calmed immediately, returning to its gentle pulse.

Great. Now the magic was scolding him. He pocketed his phone and grabbed his jacket, heading out to meet the school group.

By late afternoon, Nicholas had given the elementary school tour, sorted out the Kellers' hawk situation (just a sprained wing), and met with Ranger Davis about the bear. He'd done everything possible to stay busy, to keep his mind off Sylvie.

It hadn't worked.

The band had zapped him three more times throughout the day—once when he "accidentally" took the long route past Moonshadow Apothecary without stopping, and twice when his thoughts had drifted to previous dates with other women.

Message received, universe.

The bell above the apothecary door chimed as Nicholas entered. The shop was empty of customers, but filled with the now-familiar scent of herbs, candle wax, and something distinctly Sylvie, clove and cedar, mingled with the slight tang of magic.

His tiger immediately settled, that strange purring sensation rumbling through his chest.

"You're late," Sylvie emerged from behind a curtain separating the shop from her workroom. Her blonde hair was half-falling from its knot, and there was a smudge of what looked like ash across one cheek, per usual.

Despite his frustration, Nicholas felt a smile tug at his lips. "Traffic was murder. You know how busy the roads get between the sanctuary and here."

"A whole two-minute drive." She rolled her eyes, but he caught the slight quirk of her mouth.

"What was so important?" he asked, leaning against the counter.

Sylvie hesitated, fidgeting with the sleeve covering her wrist band. "I saw my Aunt Missy this morning."

"And? Did she know how to break this thing?" He lifted his wrist, the violet light pulsing gently now that they were near each other.

"Not exactly." Sylvie bit her lower lip, and Nicholas found his gaze drawn to the movement. "She said some things that... well, you might want to sit down."

"That doesn't sound ominous at all," Nicholas said, but he perched on the stool she indicated.

Sylvie moved to the other side of the counter, putting space between them. "Apparently, the magic won't release until it's 'served its purpose.'"

"Which is what, exactly?"

"That's the thing. She wasn't clear." Sylvie's fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on the countertop. "But she did mention that the discomfort will get worse the further apart we are."

Nicholas's tiger perked up with interest. "So we should stay close?"

"I didn't say that," Sylvie said quickly. "I'm just... reporting what she told me."

"Uh-huh." Nicholas studied her, noting the faint blush spreading across her cheeks. "And what else did Missy say?"

Sylvie cleared her throat. "That, um, the candle may have recognized something between us that we've been... denying."

Nicholas felt his heart rate quicken. His tiger knew, had known from the moment the binding happened, that Sylvie was his mate. But he'd been fighting that knowledge, terrified of what it meant.

"Recognized what, exactly?" he asked, his voice low.

Sylvie's stormy gray eyes met his. "I don't know," she said, but the band around her wrist flared briefly.

"You're lying again," Nicholas observed quietly.

"I'm not—" She started, then sighed. "Fine. She suggested that maybe the love-warding candle detected... an attraction. And inverted its purpose."

Nicholas couldn't help the slow smile that spread across his face. "So instead of warding love away..."

"It's pushing us together," Sylvie finished, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Magically speaking."

"Interesting theory," Nicholas said, standing from the stool. His tiger urged him closer to her. "Though you don't need magic for me to be attracted to you, Sylvie."

The blush on her cheeks deepened. "That's not?—"

"It's the truth," he said simply. "I've wanted to ask you out for two years, but you made it pretty clear you weren't interested."

"I never said that," she protested.

"You literally hid behind a potted plant at the Founder's Day Festival last year when I walked by."

Sylvie winced. "You saw that?"

"Half the town saw that."

"I was just..." She waved a hand vaguely. "You make me nervous."

Nicholas took a step closer, unable to resist the pull between them. "I make Sylvie Sage nervous? The woman who faced down a rogue werewolf pack last spring?"

"That was different."

"How so?"

"The werewolves I understood," she said quietly. "You... you're something else entirely."

Nicholas blurted out the one thing he knew he shouldn't—the perfect diversion from his confession that would transform this serious moment into something lighter.

"Come on, you're one of the few women I've never managed to take out. Get to know. How could that not intrigue me?"

She fixed him with a look of such revulsion that the moment shattered completely.

"Ugh! That's precisely why I hid from you. And for the record, I'm a woman, not some girl toy for your amusement." She rose abruptly and seized a box to carry to the back.

Nicholas remained seated, his tiger displeased with him and the purple bracelet throbbing in irritation, while the other part—the one that feared commitment for numerous personal reasons—wasn't quite as bothered by his choice of words.