Page 4 of The Bookseller and the Alpha (Witch Twins #1)

Calypso

I sat at my desk under the stairs, watching the foot traffic in the arcade through my security cameras as I waited for the Council investigator.

There was the usual weekday mix of tourists, retirees and mums with small children.

I’d kept the ‘Closed’ sign on the door and a couple of potential customers had looked at the sign and continued on their way.

Just what I needed. I’d finished clearing a path up the stairs and checked that the most valuable (for valuable, read dangerous) books were still safely under lock and key.

It was weird; the shop had been turned absolutely upside down, but there was no indication that anything had been taken.

It was beginning to look more and more like a prank, but I still had no idea why anyone would target me or my shop.

There was also no sign of how the intruder got inside.

When I arrived, I could feel the wards Elie had put on the front door were active, as they should be.

I had set them last night when I left the store.

I couldn’t create wards; I knew the theory and the appropriate incantations, but I didn’t have the power to cast the spell.

But activating them only used a trickle of magic and I had just enough.

It was the same with the back door. The wards were set and all windows were intact. It was very odd.

Slumping back on the seat, I pulled my cardigan closer to me.

It was a bit chilly, but just not cold enough to justify turning on the heater, when I knew that any day might be its last, and I was bored.

I picked up Pride and Prejudice again. Usually, reading settled me but after a couple of minutes my attention strayed.

I was jittery; my stomach churning and my mind refused to settle.

Someone had come into my shop, my special place, and treated my books like trash.

It physically hurt, like a punch to the gut, and I clenched my jaw against a fresh wave of misery that threatened to drag me under.

I needed to do something… anything… to push away the dark thoughts that threatened to drown me.

My fingers itched to start putting books back on shelves but my hands were tied until the investigator finally deigned to show up.

I checked my watch for about the thousandth time and sighed. What was keeping them?

My attention was snagged by the sight of a seriously hot guy striding through the arcade, his piercing eyes seeming to notice every detail.

Hmm yummy. He was tall; at least six four, with wide shoulders and chest, which tapered to a trim waist. He was built.

Under the suit he wore, he must have some serious muscles.

Definite eye candy . And that was before I even lasered in on his face.

Dark eyes. Olive skin. Strong chin with a hint of stubble.

It added a touch of casualness to his look, preventing him from looking too polished.

Add to that a scar that bisected one dark eyebrow, faded with age, and full lips made for kissing.

He was absolute perfection. My brain screeched to a stop.

Whoa! Hold it right there. Since when had I become so sex-starved that I imagined kissing random strangers, hot or not?

With difficulty I dragged my eyes away from the screen.

I needed to get my head read. Had it warmed up in here?

I stood and stripped off my cardi, suddenly too hot.

Damn hormones. I needed a distraction; although now it was from Hot Guy rather than my earlier misery, which had dissipated like smoke.

That was a good thing. Wasn’t it? … Were mood swings a danger sign? Was I unstable?

I thought about it for a second, then gave myself a mental shake.

Shop burgled; not enough sleep; Hot Guy.

That was enough to induce mood swings in anyone.

What I needed was something to do. Maybe I would start shelving books anyway, and the investigator would just have to suck it up.

I started to rise, but then my eyes strayed back to the camera feed.

I just wanted to see what he was doing. Just a little peek.

He was in the street, in a public place, so I was only feeling a little guilty about spying on him.

And I wasn’t the only person in the street whose head had turned.

A woman about my own age, with a toddler in a stroller had been in the middle of opening a snack for her child, and she’d stopped part way through, hands frozen and mouth open as he walked past her.

Her toddler, frustrated at the snack still out of reach had started to wail, and she’d shaken her head like she was coming out of a dream, face flushed.

I know how you feel, honey. My view of Hot Guy was blocked by a group of older women heading for the tea shop. I sighed. I couldn’t help myself. It had been nice while it lasted.

In my peripheral vision I caught movement on the other camera; the one that showed the view at my front steps. Hot Guy was right there. He was outside my shop.

For a second, he stared straight at the camera. Up close in the screen I could see his eyes, the irises a deep chocolate brown, so dark they were almost black. Then his eyelids came down and he leaned forward. And sniffed my door.

Hot Guy was sniffing my door. Okay, that was weird. I got up and marched to the door, pulling it open. He might be hot, but I didn’t need any weirdos hanging around.

His eyes met mine and I’m sure my mouth dropped open. Gods and goddesses, he was hot. And now that he was right there . Fuck. He was a Shifter. Of course he was. And that was why he was sniffing the door. His super-human nose would be able to tell if my wards had gone off.

He was so tall his head almost brushed the doorframe when he stood to his full height and he was powerfully built across the shoulders.

I couldn’t help myself and my eyes dipped lower.

Thighs I could ride for days. Suddenly my shop seemed small as my brain helpfully provided an image of me riding his lap.

I sucked in a breath, almost hyperventilating.

Get a grip Caly. Just my luck. I’d had a thing for Shifters all my life.

It was stupid, I knew. Shifters would fuck human women, no problem.

They had high sex drives and weren’t too fussy, until it came to choosing a mate.

Then they went for their own kind. And who would blame them.

Shifter women looked like super models. Legs up to my armpits, firm boobs.

They never seemed to struggle with their weight.

So I stayed as far away from them as I could.

I’d told myself that if I couldn’t have a Shifter mate then I wouldn’t have a Shifter at all.

It would just make my obsession worse. I didn’t want to be anyone’s pity fuck or one night stand.

I had one rule in my life that mattered.

No dating Shifters. But although I wouldn’t let myself get close to one, I’d read every scrap of information on them I could find—which wasn’t much—first at school, then later in my university classes.

And it did something to my insides. Every. Single. Time.

Shifter males would never walk out on their mate.

Never sleep around. Family came first. Always.

But there were some downsides. I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe it was all sunshine and roses.

There was always a catch. Shifters were dominant and aggressive.

They were territorial and overly possessive.

None of it had ever put me off. Worse. The thought had always left this twist in my stomach.

Envy. And if I was honest enough to admit it.

Lust. The idea of a partner who would actually care about my needs was a serious turn-on.

And they were all so fucking gorgeous. It just wasn’t fair.

Shifter genetics made them bigger and stronger than ordinary humans.

And this guy was bigger than most. He was every single one of my secret desires all wrapped into one muscley package.

Lust aside, I could psycho-analyse myself enough to know that my obsession with Shifters stemmed from my father’s infidelity and his abandonment of his own family: our mother, Elie and me.

I’d latched onto the concept of a Shifter as a perfect mate.

As a teenager I’d created my own little fantasy where a Shifter male would want me as his mate.

Always. Where he would be devoted to me and our children.

Where he would fight for us. Protect us.

Ah shit. I was so fucked up. And this guy was my own personal wet dream.

I needed to say something… anything.

“What is wrong with you? Why were you sniffing my door?” His eyes snapped to mine and it looked like he stumbled slightly, putting out an arm to hold himself up. It brought him closer to me. Close enough that I could smell his scent. Leather and spice. It curled in the air, wrapping around my body.

He said something. I know he said something.

His voice was deep, slightly rough and it sent a shiver through my whole body.

His lips were moving, so I knew he was talking, but I didn’t hear what he said.

Rational thought faded away. I forgot what I’d said.

I forgot my own name. All I heard was his voice.

That voice. It promised things… it promised champagne, chocolate and naked bodies on satin sheets.

It promised scorching kisses, and earth-shattering orgasms. My eyes shut, and my body responded. Nipples pebbling. Cheeks flushing.

My brain turned back on and my eyes snapped back open as my cheeks flamed.

Oh. My. God. Did I just go there? I kept my eyes down.

All he did was talk to me and I just about burst into flame.

I could see the headline. Woman dies of spontaneous combustion!

I heard my own heavy breathing in the space between us, as if I’d been running and couldn’t get enough air.

He filled the doorway. Not just his body, but the force of his personality.

I could feel his gaze on me. It was hot.

Scorching hot. He hadn’t stepped into the shop but the space already felt crowded. The air was heavy, full of tension.

I straightened my spine, scrambling to find something sensible to say. I could do this. I could make conversation. He’d tripped, I’d seen it. “Are you all right?” There. Something safe.

Then I stumbled backwards, unbalanced by Pompy, who was doing her best to wiggle her body past my legs to get to Hot Guy.

Pompy took advantage of the gap I’d provided and pushed past me, allowing me to take another step back, giving me some much-needed space, away from him .

Pompy launched herself at Hot Guy’s legs, her stumpy legs barrelling her forward and the moment was broken.