A Knight to Remember (23 page)

“Holly?” she whispers questioningly, reaching out across the space between us to gently, softly, trace her finger over my cheek.
 
My heart begins to beat wildly in me, and I’m too tired to try and quell it this time.
 

Virago pulls her hand back from my face, and there’s a tear brightly etched on her finger.
 

I sniffle, feel inordinately stupid, and scrub at my cheeks with the back of my hand.
 
“Oh my goodness, will you look at me?” I manage, chuckling a little, though it comes out as a harsh sound between us.
 
“Don’t mind me,” I whisper to her, breathing out.
 

“What is the matter?” she asks me, her brow furrowed.

I glance up at her then.
 
I stare up at this impossible woman, this woman who’s so beautiful and good and kind and wonderful and
sexy as hell
and everything you could ever imagine wanting in someone you’d give your soul to spend the rest of your life with.

“You’ll be going home, soon,” I tell her, shrugging a little as I wrap my arms around my middle.
 
The AC in Aidan’s back room of his shop is kicked up to the highest power, and it’s actually a little chilly back here, in contrast to the hot summer night I dressed for in my tank top and shorts.
 
I shiver a little, run my hand through my hair as I shake my head.
 
“It was…it was amazing to see the other knights, see a glimpse of your world,” I tell her.
 
Because it was.
 

It was amazing and magical and it’s absolutely the place that’s meant for her.
 
Because
she’s
amazing and magical.
 
I know she’s meant to be there.
 

She belongs there.

Virago reaches out again between us, and again, her warm, caressing finger is tracing a pattern over my cheek, down to my jaw.
 
But now she softly, but with a gentle strength, tilts my chin up so that my gaze must meet hers.

“Right now,” she tells me, her calm, certain gaze pinning me to the spot, “I am exactly where I want to be.”

I stare at her, my heart racing in me.

The spell is broken, ironically, by a witch.

My brother clears his throat beside us, and we both turn to glance at him.

“Cookie?” he asks, grimacing when he realizes that there was a moment happening between us.
 
At least, I really, really,
really
think it was a moment.

I am exactly where I want to be
, she’d said.
 
Virago scoops up a cookie, smiles at my brother, laughs at one of his jokes as he holds the plate of cookies out to me.

I take a sugar cookie in wonder, let the sweetness melt on my tongue as I take a small bite.

Where I want to be
.

Virago walks over to the gathered coven members, the sound of her voice drifting over me as I turn her words over and over again in my heart.

My heart that, if it skips anymore beats, I’m probably dead.

I eat the entire cookie, grinning like a fool.

---

When we get home, it’s almost ten o’clock.
 
And I have work in the morning.
 

Work!
 
Regular life, with all of its obligations and responsibilities, is going on around me while extraordinary, magical things are happening at the same time, and it’s hard for me to put that together in my head.

I have to go to work at the library tomorrow.
 
We’re having children’s story hour at four PM, and while I don’t work in the children’s department, my friend Alice, who’s the head of the department, always needs a little extra help, so I’ll have to find time in my schedule to help her corral some kids and get them interested in the story.

While Virago is here.
 
On our world.
 
Looking for the beast that could destroy everything.

I sigh and sit down on the couch the minute we come in.
 
Shelley launches herself onto my stomach and proceeds to worm around on the couch and on top of me, ecstatically kicking her legs and feet into the air while I watch her, a smile turning up the corners of my mouth while I shake my head and chuckle at my ridiculous dog.
 

“I’m going to let her out,” I tell Virago, rising and crossing the living room to open the sliding glass door for Shelley.
 
The dog tears past us and launches herself out into the night.
 
“Will you let her back in if she comes back to the door?” I ask Virago, yawning.
 
“I’m going to get dressed for bed, and then I’m going to make both of us a nice, strong cup of chamomile tea.”

Virago’s mouth twitches at the corners, too, as she tries to suppress a smile.
 
“Yes, m’lady.”

I cast her a sidelong glance, but Virago’s brows are up innocently, and she’s sitting down in my favorite chair, placing one ankle on her knee gracefully and leaning back like she owns the place.
 
I try not to stare at her smoldering form relaxing in my favorite chair, and instead go up the stairs and close the bathroom door behind me.

Well.
 
Today has been…eye-opening.
 

I wash my face, run a brush through my hair, brush my teeth (absentmindedly, since I’ll have to brush them again after I drink my tea, or, hell—I may live on the wild side and
not
brush them after my final cup of tea.
 
I’m a rebel like that), and then slip into my bedroom and out of my shirt and jeans and into my least hilarious pajamas, which are still somewhat joke-y since they’re covered in little wizard hats and wands.

A gift from my brother.

How do I have a funny pajama collection, you ask?
 
Well, it was certainly never
my
idea.
 
I shake my head ruefully and tug at the top buttons of the pajama top, smiling at myself in the mirror.
 

I’m trying not to think about the fact that Virago told me she once had a girlfriend.
 
That she placed her hand against my cheek and promised me that she was exactly where she wanted to be.
 

I pull my phone out of my purse and check the screen.

Still nothing from Nicole.

I replace the phone with almost shaking hands, setting my purse down on the trunk at the foot of my bed as I nibble at my lip.

God, what do I do?

Every single atom in me wants to make a move on Virago.
 
I want to tell her that I’m attracted to her.
 
I want to sweep her off her feet (no small feat considering that she’s taller and much more muscular than me).
 
All of my old patterns are starting to flare up.
 
I want to pursue her.
 
I want to kiss her.

But doing so would open up such an immense can of worms…

I stare at my reflection in the mirror above my dresser.
 
I look wild-eyed.
 
I take a deep breath.
 
I can’t stall anymore.
 
I’ll just…play it by ear.

I head down the stairs to the living room lost in my thoughts, but I pause on the landing, because there’s a sight greeting me that I really couldn’t have expected.

Shelley is laying down like a Sphinx on my living room floor, her paws placed neatly in front of her, her fluffy tail thumping hard against the wood floor.
 
The coffee table and my favorite chair have been pushed out of the way to make room for Shelley…

And for Virago.

Who is also laying down on my living room floor.

She’s laying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows.
 
And she’s practically nose to nose with Shelley.
 
“You do it like this, good beast,” says Virago gently, and then she’s turning slowly until she’s laying on her side, and she continues to make the rotation onto her back and then again onto her side as she makes a full circle of rolling on the floor.

Rolling
over
, I realize.

She’s trying to teach Shelley how to roll over.

Shelley makes a low, guttural “woof” sound in the back of her throat, reaching her nose out toward Virago with her silly little grin that she always gives me when
I
try to teach her anything.
 
I always imagine that she’s thinking “what are you doing, you silly human?”
 
But she’s also staring with rapt fascination at Virago, who doesn’t seem to mind that she’s laying on a floor in front of a dog, her shirt’s immaculate white sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the shirt unbuttoned at the collar, I realize, and untucked from her pants.

God, she’s beautiful.

I stare at her as she smiles at my dog, her full lips curling up so beautifully that it takes my breath away, as she nods to Shelley.
 
“All right,” says Virago, rolling back the other way slowly, keeping her eyes trained on Shelley as she says commandingly: “roll over.
 
There’s a good beast!”

Because for the first time in her entire life, Shelley’s actually paying attention as Virago rolls over.
 
Shelley angles her neck and lays her head down on the ground, and then slowly, carefully, as Virago repeats another rotation, my goofy dog is actually on her side, rolling over, too.
 
But just a little.
 

And then Shelley, wagging her long, fluffy tail the entire time, makes a single rotation, rolling completely over.
 
She bounces up onto her feet at the end of it, wagging her tail so hard that it’s in danger of knocking the tea cup off of the coffee table.

I clear my throat and take the final step down and into the living room.
 
Virago, chucking a little, rises up to one knee, and then is standing as she brushes off her knees and her bottom, shaking her head ruefully.

“Sorry,” she tells me, glancing at me with one brow raised.
 
“Shelley’s undersides had gotten muddy, and she wouldn’t sit still for me to dry her off.”
 
She jerks her thumb to indicate the clean paper towels crumpled on the floor by the sliding glass door.
 
“I thought,” says Virago with a sly smile, “that she could learn the trick on command.”

“Frankly, she doesn’t know how to do
anything
on command,” I tell her laughing.
 
“She’s such a good dog, but it’s mostly because she’s so damn nice.
 
She doesn’t know a single trick—she doesn’t even know how to sit!”
 
I shrug, make my way around the counter and take the kettle over to the sink, running the cold tap.
 
“How did you do it?”
 
I gesture with the tea kettle lid at my (usually) incredibly disobedient dog who’s sitting at attention at Virago’s feet.
 
“I mean, even
dog trainers
find her impossible.
 
She’s just so cheerful and kind of flighty that she doesn’t pay attention to a single word that anyone says.
 
A trainer once said she was unteachable, actually,” I snort.

“Oh, that’s not true,” says Virago, shaking her head as she leans on the counter, running a long-fingered hand through her hair that I try, very, very hard not to watch.
 
She pulls out her ponytail, and then around her shoulders comes this glistening, shiny wave of ink-black hair.
 
Virago carefully gathers it into a ponytail again, fastening the tail higher on her head as she smiles at me.

God, she caught me watching.

“While the water boils,” she says slowly, carefully, one brow raised, “do you want me to show you?”

“Show me what?” I ask, almost dropping my kettle as I realize it’s overflowing with water.
 
I switch off the tap, set the kettle onto the burner and turn the burner onto high as Virago watches me, smiling in amusement.

“I’ll show you how to teach her,” she tells me gently, her velvet voice drifting over me, even as she raises her hand to me.
 
I take her hand, placing my fingers into her warm palm, and she grips it tightly as she leads me around the edge of the counter, my heart beating approximately a million times a minute.
 
She kneels down in front of Shelley, still holding onto my hand.
 
I follow suit, trying to pay close attention to my dog and not the fact that Virago’s warm hand is still in my own.
 
She hasn’t let me go.
 

“All right,” says Virago, inclining her head toward my rug with a smile.
 
“Lay down.”

I take a deep breath, can feel the blush start to redden my cheeks.
 
For a moment I hesitate, but then I do exactly as she says.
 
I kneel down, and then I’m lying down on my living room rug next to this gorgeous woman, our hips next to each other
almost
but not quite touching.

Shelley, of course, thinks this is the Most! Fun! Ever! And proceeds to bark at us, her tail wagging so hard that the television remote, positioned on the edge of the coffee table that Virago dragged out of the way, goes flying to the floor.

“Good beast,” says Virago soothingly, and then she lies down fully on her stomach beside me, propping her chin in one hand.
 
She holds out her other hand, her pointer finger extended, to Shelley.

“Lay down,” she says, her low voice strong and commanding as she points down to the ground.

Shelley, to my utter and complete shock, lies down instantaneously, like she’s a perfect well-trained stunt dog.
 
Which, I promise, she absolutely is not.

“Good beast,” Virago murmurs, smiling encouragingly.
 
“All right.
 
Now watch your mistress and I!”
 
Virago turns to me, and I realize how close she is.
 
That we’re lying down on my living room floor right next to each other.
 
The heat from her body radiates to me, and all I can see is her beautiful face, close enough to kiss.