Vikand stands outside with a pile of books in his hand. When I throw the door open wide, he yelps and drops the pile of books, his glasses falling off his nose.
“Gods almighty, Vikand,” I hiss, “what the hells are yeh doin’?”
He puts a hand over his heart and waves at the books on the ground. “Well, this is everything I have on blue witches. I was up late finding the books and I figured I’d drop them by. I didn’t mean to wake you.” His dark eyes flick to the books then back down at me. “There’s a lot of good information in there. Start with the book on top. It was written by a blue witch. It’s an old book, but it should be helpful.”
He glances around, then grimaces. “Sorry to wake you. Come by my office if you have questions.” With that, he turns and trots up the street into the darkness.
Grumbling at the fright he just gave me and Connall, I restack the books and carry them inside. Connall remains curled protectively around Louanna, although his wolf’s claws tip his fingers.
I bring the stack of books to the sofa and hand him the one Vikand mentioned. “I’m guessing you heard what Vikand said. That’s the book written by another blue witch.”
Connall takes it with a sigh, stroking Lou’s hair away from her face. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to sleep now. Want to stay up with me and read this so we can figure out how best to support her?”
Nodding, I tuck myself against his bigger body. Louanna throws a leg and arm over him, and he pulls her in close.
Safe.
The title on the book says “A Blue Witch’s Accounting of Blue Magic”.
“Here we go,” I murmur as I flip the book open to the first page.
Hours later, Connall and I are nearly halfway through the book, and we’ve learned a lot. But I need my Louanna to wake so we can share this with her. He nuzzles her neck and shoulders as he wakes, one hand roving over her body. But she’s a sound sleeper, our Louanna. An early morning sex kitten, she’s not.
Laughing at the idea of it, I head for the kitchen. Grabbing bacon and eggs from the fridge, I start the makings of breakfast. My wolf needs a lot of calories to maintain that huge frame. He’ll be hungry soon. And Louanna will wake up, well, whenever the fook she wants to.
Once the bacon begins to sizzle in the pan, Connall’s soft footfalls drift up the hallway. He smiles as he rounds the corner. Joining me, he presses his warm, naked body to mine, one hand braced on the countertop and the other running under my arm and up my chest.
“Mmm,” he growls in my ear, kissing just below it. “You smell good, mate.”
“Yer smellin’ the bacon, Wolf,” I tease, cocking my head to the side to grant him better access.
Rough lips and teeth trail a path down to my shoulder as the hard bar of his cock nestles between my arse cheeks. “Keep that up, and I’m gonna forget about the bacon, Connall,” I warn.
He bites my shoulder muscle hard, then licks over it with a wet, soft tongue. “Fine.”
He’s all tease as he turns from me and heads to the bathroom. As he goes, I stare at the tight, round bubbles of his arse cheeks. He’s so damn big and muscular. The sound of running water echoes moments later. Anticipation prickles through me. Louanna’s a sound sleeper, and my wolf has a crazy high libido. He is verymucha morning sex kitten.
Yet given what happened, I’m reticent to stray any farther from Louanna than absolutely needed.
Ten minutes later, I’ve got a plate piled high with toast, and another with bacon and eggs. Connall emerges from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. It does nothing to hide the erection masting the fabric. My mouth goes dry. I want to drop to both knees and worship him, my blue moon wolf.
He crosses the room and cages me against the island, his body still damp from the shower. “You should have told us about your witch theory.” He bends down to kiss the tip of my nose. “If for no reason other than it’s important.”
“She’d have felt pressured,” I remind him. “Responsible to fix things.”
Connall slides a hand up the back of my neck and strokes. “And how do you think she feels now?”
I pause, considering that.
When I say nothing, he brushes his lips over my mouth. “She still feels that pressure, but now it’s combined with the niggling sense that you didn’t think she could handle the news.”
“That’s not it,” I declare. “You know that’s not it.”
He strokes my side. “If youhadtold us, we could have worked through it together and told no one else. She might have felt extra pressure, but she’d have felt it with us firmly in her corner.”
Surprise snakes uneasily through me, along with something I don’t usually feel.
Guilt.
