Under the Full Moon (Crimson Romance) (4 page)

At the silence and lack of further activity, he whirled, scooped her up before she could utter a word, stalked inside, stopping long enough to lock the door before taking her into the bedroom.

“Stay here,” he mouthed before heading to investigate, and judging by the sound of stalled hops she presumed to put on his pants.

Grace tossed on some clothes and ventured out to see what he was up to. He hadn’t told her to stay put without reason. Her shifter was up to something. She knew the witch had cursed him to share a part of himself with an armadillo, but wasn’t sure exactly what all that entailed. Moss was cursed with a reptilian side, which for him meant beautiful scales that resembled the most intricate of tattoos. Moss also had the ability to skim across water and see exceptionally well in the night.

After tightening the strings to her sweat pants she padded quietly out into the living room. She found Damien leaning over a small light and apparently reading something.

“What is it this time?” she asked, sensing something else had happened.

“Seems our rock carried a note.” He turned and waved a paper back and forth angrily.

“And what does it say, or dare I ask?” She came to stand so close, the heat from his body offered her comfort for what she feared the note would hold.

A reminder apparently. He shook his head, clearly agitated. “You were warned and so was she.” He crushed the note in his fist and slung into the night.

“Well, gee, wonder who that’s from.” She huffed, rolling her eyes for sarcastic emphasis when he turned to face her.

“This isn’t something to scoff at,” Damien warned, the worry evident in his tone.

“No, maybe not. But I’m sure as hell not running around my own home in fear of some jerk-off either.” She figured she looked like a petulant child with her hip thrust out and chin held up, but she didn’t care. She would not run around in fear. It simply wasn’t in her.

“It’s not Demetrius I fear. He, I can handle without issue.” She saw the arch in his spine as he seemed to bristle at her words.

“Oh I didn’t mean you couldn’t.” Damn male testosterone. She’d hit a nerve without meaning to. She had no doubt Damien could pulverize the little shit, but he seemed so serious about the warning. Now she’d bruised her shifter’s ego. Perfect end to their otherwise beautiful evening
. Just peachy.

“I worry about this secret Society he spoke of during the battle with his mother. Remember, he said the Society had grown weary of her dalliances with men and cursing them for her own desires.”

Grace did remember. Octavia had spent years stealing and turning handsome men into shifters under her thumb. Convincing them they would no longer fit into society and that their curse would be the least of their concerns if they dare tried to leave the swamp. Her domain.

“I wonder who they are. They weren’t happy with Octavia, maybe they’re unhappy with Demetrius as well?”

“One could only hope. But to discount his threats and assume would be too dangerous a mistake to make. When Moss and Beth arrive in a few hours we need to research who this Society might be. I’d feel better knowing at least
who
we are up against, other than our known threat, Demetrius.”

Grace understood not knowing was dangerous. But his words “in a few hours” sunk in and she took his hand and led him back the bedroom. The next day would no doubt hold much anxiety and stress. For now, she just wanted to curl up with Damien and enjoy the rest of the night.

He followed her in silence and they undressed as they walked. Neither said a word; they didn’t need to. She pulled back the sheet from what she hoped would become his side of the bed. How freaking wonderful that would be.
His
. One damn rock away from perfection.

When she got her hands on that louse Demetrius, the jerk would pay for busting her happy bubble.

“Oh shit, sorry.”

Grace jerked awake to Beth’s startled, apologetic voice and the creak of her bedroom door closing. Confused, she rolled over and threw her leg to the cool side of the bed. But instead of a chilled sheet, her thigh encountered a warm brick wall.

Damien!

She wasn’t sure what to do. It had been so long since she’d invited a man in her bed, much less wakened to one still lying next to her. She froze as snippets of the night before replayed, and her cheeks burned when she went to pull her leg back and became aware of numerous sore areas. Places that hadn’t been tender in a long time.

Damien shifted closer and his morning woody rubbed against her hip.

Their early morning visitors proved to be a serious downer as Damien’s erection brushed her again.

“Did I hear Beth?” Even though it was his morning scratchy voice, it sent shivers through her.

“Sadly, yes.” She wanted nothing more to ignore the people out ransacking her refrigerator and help Damien with what continued to prod her proactively. Damn. All it would take was to push her rear end back a bit, wiggle and …

“Mind if I borrow your shower?”

“Uh, no. Not at all.” Good lord but the man caused her to become overly hormonal.

“Damien, I meant what I said before. Please make yourself at home.”

His expression at her words melted her heart. So appreciative and stunned. Like he really didn’t believe how much she wanted him in her life. He kissed the bridge of her nose then slid out of bed and headed for the shower in all his naked glory. A few seconds later a shocked yowl bellowed from the bathroom.

“Is the hot water not working?” Her funky acting water heater must be on the fritz again.

“I’m afraid I needed cold this morning.”

“Why? Oh … uh, I understand.” Cringing at what she pretty much understood to be an uncomfortable situation, she dressed and headed out to Beth, Moss, and hopefully a steaming mug of coffee. It was the least she expected at the early and ill-timed intrusion.

Ten minutes later Damien joined them, looking every bit as disgruntled as she. She bit back the laugh that threatened to spill. Moss raised an eyebrow to Damien, which she knew meant he understood and sympathized. Then Moss’s turned and nodded in Beth’s general direction, clearly indicating the decision to arrive so early had been of Beth’s choice.

God bless her niece and her concern, but man, Grace plotted a serious girl talk with her later. If she and Damien had any kind of chance, they’d need their privacy. Deep down Grace was a little concerned about how Damien would feel when she told him about her witchcraft background and her store. No doubt the man hated any and all magic after his past with Octavia. But the differences between what Octavia performed and what was naturally within the women in Grace’s family line were large and vast. Still, he knew they had some magic in their blood, but she couldn’t be sure if he related to just how deep the magic ran or about her store, Whimsical Notions. Her pride and joy.

When she’d arrived during his battle with Octavia and used her magic to help he, Moss, and Beth escape, he’d seemed fine. Of course they had just met and odds were he was polite enough not to harp over the use of magic with the woman who rescued them, via her magic. Far too much happened and too quickly for her to ever bring up Whimsical Notions. Until now.
Maybe.

Her little shop sold everything from new standard tarot cards to antique sets found at estate sales. Crystals, candles and books.

Lots and lots of books. Not just on crafts but on every topic she’d managed to get her hands on. Granted she was biased, but she loved the warm atmosphere the place set off.

She’d bought the abandoned house on Main Street shortly after Henry was legally declared dead. She’d hoped the shop would bring her some form of peace. Indeed, it had become her haven of refuge in so many wonderful ways.

“I think I’ll make a trip into the swamp later,” Moss blurted after draining the last drop of coffee from his mug.

“No, please. With more whack-a-doodles running amok, I don’t like the idea of you in there.” Beth stood, clearly agitated at the thought of her man heading back into what she considered the danger zone.

“I’ll go with him. I’d like to find that kid Trick again. I’ve got some questions and I think he may have some answers,” Damien offered.

Grace stayed quiet. Deep down she didn’t want either man heading back in, not knowing who may be lying in wait. However, arguing would merely set testosterone levels raging and would be a waste of good energy. She needed to get the shop open and do some research of her own once everyone was out of her hair and she could think straight.

“Grace, what do you think? Don’t you think it’s too dangerous for them to go?”

Yeah she did but as much as Grace wanted to side with Beth, she couldn’t. Not without pushing Damien away. He needed to be He-man. She’d recognized the trait in him from the first day they’d met.

“Yes, I think it’s worrisome, but I don’t think anywhere we are right now is safe. I was here at home and look what happened.” Grace pointed over to the door that was nailed closed.

“Point,” Beth whispered. “Fine, but you damn well better check in every hour or so. Are we clear?” she stated, turning to Moss with a definite tone and stance that signaled he’d better answer with a yes or there would be hell to pay.

Grace always got a kick out of her niece’s fiery spirit.

“Reception can be spotty, but I’ll agree to try. However, don’t panic if you don’t hear from us for a few hours,” Moss reminded Beth in a patient tone.

“I can’t promise I won’t panic, but I won’t go traipsing after you unless neither of you has checked in by tonight. Deal?”

“Deal,” both men answered at once.

Grace caught something that sounded like “pussy whipped” and the sneer Moss threw toward Damien in return rather backed up her suspicion.

Yup, she needed to handle Damien with kid gloves. You could take the man out of the wild, but getting the wild out of the man in this case was impossible.

“I don’t want you staying here alone. Can your aunt accompany you around today, Beth?” Damien turned from Grace to address Beth.

“Excuse me. I don’t appreciate you speaking for me as if I’m not here. I assure you I’ve managed just fine by myself before you came along. I happen to have a full day. I need to open the shop and go over inventory.” She wasn’t a child and damn sure wouldn’t be treated like one.

“Shop?”

Shit!
She wasn’t ready to explain that yet.

“Well … ”

Before Grace could shoot Beth a look to shut up, the younger gal blurted out, “Oh it’s her lovely spiritual shop. Grace didn’t tell you about it?”

Damn, damn and double damn.

The room plunged into silence. Damien flat refused to even look in her direction, and she prayed he’d give her a chance to explain, maybe even allow her to take him on a tour of her shop. When he started out the door, calling for Moss, she knew her chance to do so, at least for today, had evaporated.

Beth kissed Moss goodbye and reminded him of his promise before apologizing. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you hadn’t told him or he’d even consider Whimsical Notions that big a deal. Damn but I really put my foot in my mouth this time.”

“It’s all right. You couldn’t have foreseen his reaction or my lack of telling him. I should have, but kept waiting for the right time. I’m not truthfully sure when that time would have been … so I kept procrastinating.”

“He’ll come around. He … he, well, sort of seems like a bit of a hard ass.”

“I hope you’re right. And yes, he bears some scars. But as with a lot of things in life, time has a way of healing things we never thought possible.” Grace didn’t elaborate, but before she’d met Damien, she’d been resigned to becoming an old spinster. Then she met Damien and he turned her emotions and resolve, ass over end. Beth left and Grace geared up to head into town and open Whimsical Notions. She’d hit the coffee house on her way and maybe that would help shake the uneasy feelings that were settling deep. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the all-clear. She was in fact, still alone.

Why then would she swear someone was watching her?

The sense of being watched increased the closer she got to Whimsical Notions. The day was sunny, the sky tranquil blue and though she didn’t detect anything wrong from the outside of the shop, she felt the warning buzz in her gut. Old magic buried deep zipped to life until her fingertips tingled from the raw power.

Glancing around she noted the streets full of patrons window shopping, but considering their small town size, that only meant all of fifty people walked about. Still, a decent number of potential shoppers.

Unlocking the door, she glanced across the street to make visual contact with the cop car parked in front of Betty’s Butter Biscuits. The vehicle sat vacant and she assumed the missing officer was inside Betty’s to grab an early lunch or late breakfast. But if needed, the law wasn’t far away.

Taking a deep breath, she entered, scanning for anything out of place.

She turned on every light in the place and found not a thing wrong.

My nerves must have got the better of me.

The warmth of the place always settled her soul within minutes of entering. The burnt orange walls coupled with the lit candles and deep purple furniture normally would cause folks to think “tacky.” But here among the crushed velvet curtains and weathered leather bindings, it struck a chord of comfort. Of peace and harmony. She even had a coffee maker ready with fresh java for those wanting to curl up and check out a few books before purchasing.

A few curious people came and wandered about with wide eyes and gaping jaws. An inquisitive older woman asked for books on crystals and how they worked. Turned out the poor woman currently battled a lengthy illness and was willing to try anything, especially older herbal or spiritual remedies. Grace chatted with the sweet lady, who requested a card for future trips. Grace didn’t push any false hopes but did explain that many holistic treatments, even in the worst of circumstances, had the power to ease certain symptoms.

The afternoon continued without episode, but about the time Grace grabbed for the phone to order a late lunch from Betty’s, her skin crawled as the same wicked sensation of being watched intensified once more. She’d double checked the back door when she first arrived as well as every nook or cranny with potential to conceal a person. She simply found nothing to warrant the bad vibe she kept picking up.