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She leaned forward. “I’m feeling it, too. I don’t know what this is, but I’m guessing it’s more wolf than witch.”
He dipped his chin. “It is, but it’s new to me as well.”
“Wait, you didn’t experience this with Laura?”
“We were already married and once we arrived in Five Bridges, within a matter of days we were bonded. There was no beginning in that sense. So, I honestly can’t say for sure what we experienced.”
“But Braden, I can’t be your mate. That much I know. I have no interest in leaving Elegance. What I do here really matters. I like you well enough. I think you’re a good, honorable man. But…you’re a wolf.” She wrinkled her nose.
He laughed, grateful she’d broken the moment. “I’m not crazy about your kind either.”
She chuckled and rose to her feet. Sheba, who had been curled up beside her, slowly gained her four paws then stretched.
The moment Maeve started to move, Sheba dropped to the floor and padded beside her.
Braden, wolf that he was, repressed an instinct to growl at the feline. Cats had claws. He had no reason to suppose Sheba would hesitate to use hers. He walked well behind the witch and her muse.
To the left of the fireplace was another small hallway like the one in the bedroom that led to the bathroom. Maeve reached up and hit a light switch on the inside wall.
Once in the relatively small, dark space, he saw another stone spiral staircase heading down, just as she had said. Again, his wolf trembled within his chest. Whatever was going to happen down there wouldn’t be simple.
He slowed his steps and watched her red hair disappear. The light flickered. He swore he felt a hand on his chest.
Suddenly, his wife’s voice was in his head, She’ll be good for you, Braden. Give her a chance. Open that stubborn heart of yours.
~ ~ ~
Maeve wished she hadn’t come down the stairs. The light had gone out for a few seconds, but now it was back on. She didn’t want Braden, or any man in her burrow.
It was a small space compared to her home above.
As Braden descended the stairs then drew close, she could feel his nerves as much as her own. She looked up at him. “I don’t know what you have to be bugged about.”
He glanced at her, almost startled. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He finally opened it again and said, “Oh, not much.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced around like he expected something to jump from the shadows.
She chuckled softly. “At least I’m not alone.”
Braden shook his head in a rapid flick. “No, you’re not.” He turned to face her. “All right, let’s get on with this. We’ve got a good witch to save.”
“That we do.”
Braden's determination had an effect and her heart finally settled down. “So, what am I supposed to do? I mean, if I were a young wolf, what advice would you give me?”
He pivoted toward her worktable and the shelving opposite laden with dozens of glass jars. Sheba leaped up onto the table and sat down facing the shelves, tail twitching.
He chuckled. “You might want to pay attention to your muse. Looks like she already has an idea.” Without thinking, he drew near the table and settled his hand on Sheba’s head, then proceeded to pet her. Repeatedly.
When Maeve didn’t approach the table, Braden looked back at her. “What?”
She pointed to her cat. “Sheba never lets anyone do that. I mean, never. She’s not really a pet. Wait, is she purring for you? What the hell?”
Maeve stared at Sheba then at Braden. Of all the things that could have distressed her, this one sent a warning shot straight through her soul. Events pressed on her now and were forcing her down a path she wasn’t sure she wanted to go. Braden was a wolf. Sheba should have torn him to shreds.
She slapped her hand on the old wood table. “This isn’t right.”
“What isn’t?” His eyes widened.
“You’re a wolf. Why isn’t she scratching your eyes out?”
