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Magic was now widely accepted both here in Darlington and in the rest of the world. After being called witches on more than one occasion by other magic users who claimed they could see our powers, Iris and I had looked into it. But we couldn’t cast spells no matter how hard we tried, so we’d thought they were mistaken.
Then I’d gotten the job at the library, and all my coworkers had been one hundred percent sure I was a witch. It was the library’s director, the man who hired me, who finally told me that I had a minor magical talent. When he met Iris, he confirmed that she did, too. We were just differently gifted from most witches.
We couldn’t cast any spell we wanted. I, however, could magically find exactly what someone needed, to an extent. This made me perfect for the job at the library. The director had known. Although it only worked on other people, not on myself, and it was a little complex, mostly because what someone was looking for wasn’t always what they needed, and vice versa.
Iris’s magic was much more straightforward; it was a minor gift of persuasion. It wasn’t very strong, but it was enough to sweet-talk us out of trouble when we were kids. So when she said she’d “smooth things over” with the satyr, she’d meant it.
It was only after I ended the call that I realized I’d forgotten to tell Iris about the t-shirt. I had planned on giving it to her so she could return it if Shane managed to find her. Oh well, I guess I was keeping it.
I wondered how long it would smell like him?
Chapter 8
Shane
Five days later…
I watched as Ivy entered the library. She had her hair up in a neat bun and was giving off total sexy librarian vibes, especially with those glasses, the demure button-up top, and a pencil skirt that hugged her curves perfectly.
It was very different from the garish pink outfit I’d seen her in at the gala, but honestly? This suited her a lot better, and I liked it very much. It was prim and proper but somehow still oozed sexiness, especially…unghhh…that pencil skirt. She’d stopped to adjust it after coming out of the café where she’d had her lunch earlier, and that little wiggle of her hips as she did so drove me wild.
Maybe it was because I’d spent most of my life around nymphs, and I’d become accustomed to their habitual nakedness, but I found clothing—the right pieces anyway—unbelievably sexy.Now I was imagining ripping open her blouse and hearing the buttons scatter on the floor as I buried my face between her breasts.
When Ivy had first left my place Sunday morning, I’d told myself I wouldn’t go after her, especially after I found out I’d been hit with a love spell. After all, I was a satyr, a creature of casual dalliances. But for once in my life, it had hurt when she’d walked out.
I’d tried to focus on something else, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I’d lasted until Tuesday before I had given up and found myself driving to Iris’s office.
She’d handed me a card early on at the gala, and it was the only thing I had to go by. But I knew I’d gotten the wrong woman the second I met the real Iris. It had felt…wrong.
She hadn’t even needed to tell me how her sister had gone to the event, not her. I hadn’t gotten the same fuzzy feeling when I saw her that I was getting now as I watched my Ivy return to work after her lunch break.
I’d begged her sister for Ivy’s information, but Iris proved to be a tough nut to crack. She somehow convinced me that I didn’t need her number, and it wasn’t until I was back in my car that I realized I’d been duped. She must have used some sort of magic on me. Realizing I wasn’t going to get anywhere with the sister, I’d done my own research.
All I got was her name. Ivy.
For two sisters with botanical names, I was surprised when I found out they didn’t have any green magic. They did have magic, though, as Iris had demonstrated. I wondered what Ivy’s magic was. As a creature attuned to nature, I could usually sense these things, but this time I couldn’t.
It didn’t matter. Now that I’d decided to pursue Ivy, nothing could stop me.
Discovering that I had spent the night with Ivy and not her sister was a good thing. It explained her sudden change in behavior the next morning after our magical evening together. I’d called her by the wrong name; of course she’d reacted badly and left. In my defense, it was the only name she’d given me.
I’d been searching for her since Tuesday. The first thing I did was try all the social media sites, but that had been a bust. Ivy clearly mostly kept to herself and didn’t post on her socials much; her profile picture was nearly five years old. Her last post was from her birthday two months ago, where she thanked her sister for setting up a wonderful dinner with her friends and family. Any photos of her from her birthday were set to private, and she hadn’t uploaded them, Iris had.
For two sisters who looked nearly identical, they sure had vastly different attitudes and behaviors when it came to putting their lives online. Iris’s entire life was on display.
There were already images of Ivy from the gala tagged with Iris’s name, and even an image of Ivy and me right before we hit the dance floor. She had that gorgeous smile on her face which turned my knees to jelly and my brain to mush. I’d saved that one to my phone. Our first photo together. The first of many, I hoped.
The two women looked so similar that it was almost impossible to tell them apart in photos. They had the exact same green eyes and reddish-brown hair. If I had to pinpoint a difference, I’d have said that Iris’s features were more open, and Ivy had a more mysterious air, but I’d be grasping at straws. It was truly remarkable that they weren’t twins; from what I gathered, Ivy was a year older.
Ivy’s profile didn’t mention where she worked or include any other personal information, but there had been a comment in the birthday post about the cake. Apparently it had been from Ivy’s favorite bakery, which turned out to be right across the street from where she worked. I’d camped out in front of that bakery for two days like some pathetic love-sick weirdo hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
And now here she was. It was Friday afternoon, which meant I hadn’t seen her in five whole days. Yes, I was counting. It reminded me of the time I’d camped out in the sweltering Indonesian jungle for a good part of a month, trying to photograph a rare java rhino. I’d thought finally seeing that rhino had been the ultimate feeling of victory, but spotting my mate as she walked into Darlington’s Library of Magic & Other Esoterica, her hair coiled up in that bun atop her head, in that sexy as fuck pencil skirt, was even better.
I loved knowing that behind that quiet, demure, prim and proper façade was a siren in bed, wild and sensual. Damn. She really was perfect in every way.
I knew that part of what I felt was because of the love spell. I wondered if they had yet figured out who cast it and who the intended target was. Surely it hadn’t been for me. Maybe Iris? No. She wouldn’t even have been there if that server hadn’t bumped into her. It must have been meant for someone else, but clearly, the spell hadn’t cared who it hit.
I refused to believe that everything I felt was merely the result of misplaced magic. Especially since I’d already decided I liked her long before that moment. We’d already been dancing when that spell hit, and even if it had never gone off, I was sure I’d have ended up with her in my arms and my bed by the end of the night. I was sure she’d agree, too. We’d had intense chemistry, right from the moment we met.
