Page 5 of The Bookseller and the Alpha (Witch Twins #1)

Luc

MINE! Beast roared inside my head. The bolt of lust he sent straight to my cock made me stagger and I nearly tripped over my own feet.

What the fuck? This was bad. Very, very bad.

He’d never responded to any woman I’d dated, never shown any interest. If I thought about it, I’d convinced myself he’d given up, that the years he’d spent chained in the prison I built for him had weakened him beyond the chance of ever breaking out.

He shouldn’t be awake, let alone have any power to push his emotions onto me.

I’d been so wrong.

He’d been waiting for the right person. Waiting in the darkness. Waiting for his mate. Well, that wouldn’t be happening. She was mine. Mine. Not his. My mate, I told him .

I had thought Calypso was pretty when I saw her photograph, but her photo hadn’t done her justice.

Calypso was the most glorious woman I had ever seen.

She was perfect. When I had first started to speak, she had shut her eyes for a long moment, her long eyelashes sweeping down to cover her beautiful eyes, then they opened wide.

Her cheeks were flushed a gentle pink. Even with dark circles under her eyes, showing she hadn’t slept well, her eyes were soft as moss, the pupils large and limpid.

Her lips were plump and lush. I wanted to kiss away her cares.

She wasn’t tall, I’d have to bend my neck to kiss her.

Or better yet, I’d lift her off the ground, and bring those kissable lips up to my mouth.

Her hair was tousled, already half fallen out from the bun she’d tried to pin it into.

A thick curl lay on her shoulder, inviting me to touch it.

She would look like this after I made her come, after she screamed my name with my cock buried inside her.

Somehow, I just knew it. My gaze dropped from her face to her torso.

She was plump, just the way I liked a woman, with a shapely butt outlined by tight jeans.

The curve of her breast was outlined by the shirt she wore, the top button undone and showing just the hint of a lacy bra.

My mouth went dry and I almost groaned as my brain short circuited, showing me an image of her in my bed, wearing nothing but that pink lacy bra and panties, her hair a dark halo around her head.

I imagined reaching out and grabbing a fistful of her hair, until she arched her back towards me in submission, crying out my name as she came.

Mine, insisted Beast again. I pulled my shields up so quickly that my teeth almost rattled. Stop that. I told Beast. You aren’t running this show.

I noticed several things at once. One I was still standing in the doorway like an idiot.

Two, I had been staring. Again, like an idiot.

Three, the woman in front of me was frowning at me, biting her lower lip.

I could do that for you, I wanted to say.

I clamped my lips together so the words didn’t accidentally spill out of my mouth.

I already looked like an idiot. I didn’t need to be a creep as well.

You need to say something , Beast said. Tell her she is our mate.

My shields weren’t working. How was he getting through? Somehow I didn’t think that telling her that my Beast and I thought she was our mate was going to make it better. Still, Beast was right, I did need to say something.

“Are you all right?” Caly’s voice was deeper than Electra’s, and something inside me hummed in response, almost as though she had strummed me like a guitar.

Whatever you’re doing, Beast, stop it now. I can’t think while you’re pumping me full of lust.

I’m not doing anything. He almost purred with satisfaction. This is all YOUR reaction to meeting your mate. Your body knows it. I know it. Just your brain hasn’t got the memo yet.

But right then, Calypso stumbled backwards, as a small dog barrelled through her legs.

I took a half step forward almost like we were dancers, or puppets connected by an invisible thread.

This time I did reach out my arm, but only in an effort to grab hers and steady her.

I wasn’t going to pull her body against mine to see how her curves fit against me, I swear.

A small stumpy body collided against my shin. Hard. Stopping me in my tracks.

Calypso regained her balance, standing just out of arm reach, her chest heaving, breasts straining at her shirt. I tore my eyes from her and towards my leg.

A distraction. Thank all the stars.

“Who’s this?” Bending forwards, I scooped up the dog scrabbling at my leg.

Her face was cute in the mashed-up way of all French bulldogs, and her entire body wiggled with joy as my arms came around her, lifting her up.

“Hello there…” I paused, holding her still to read the name on her collar… “La Pompadour. You’re doing a fine job of guarding your owner. Protecting her from intruders.” Pompadour’s method of protecting her owner involved copious kisses on my chin, which was as far as she could reach.