Sixpence & Whiskey by Heather R. Blair

Author:Heather R. Blair [Blair, Heather R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Paranormal, Werewolves & Shifters, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Paranormal & Urban, Romantic, Witches & Wizards
Amazon: B01CZINZ42
Publisher: Trampled Herb
Published: 2016-04-04T16:00:00+00:00

14

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Seph? Out here. All alone. Why?”

“Someone told me the wolves were hunting too close to town. I was just checking it out, setting up some alarms.”

“Really? Who gave you this stellar intel?”

I blink, not answering immediately. Merry wouldn’t do that to me. Would he?

Never trust a gnome.

“A friend,” I mumble. Then, at the ground. “It was Merry.”

I can hear Jack’s snort. “Checking out wolves on the word of a gnome. By yourself. Drunk.” Oh, he’s mad, all right. Fucking furious. Barely able to string two words together.

“I am not drunk. I only had a few swallows to relax. I’m fine now.” Not entirely fine. The receding adrenaline mixed with fear I just ingested, on top of those shots of whiskey on a half-empty stomach, have me feeling slightly blurry. Especially as I look at Jack. Edges and lines going soft.

Like my memories lately. Hiding the bad and the sad, teasing me with the good stuff. He helped me tonight. I don’t know why, but he did.

“Don’t even try to bullshit me. You reek of whiskey.”

“I reek because I smashed my bottle to clear his circle!”

He rolls his eyes. “After downing half of it, I’m sure.”

“That’s not true.”

Though it would’ve been, a few years ago. I spent a good deal of my early twenties hammered. Of course, Jack shouldn’t know about those years, should he? My gaze narrows. He seems to realize he’s headed into dangerous territory and switches direction.

“Whatever. You have problems, Seph, real fucking problems. You can’t afford to be shit-faced.”

I shake my head, deliberately stumbling a little, steadying myself with both hands on his chest. It’s a long shot, but maybe I can get him to slip up. “Why do you care what I am?”

Jack’s jaw tightens, his lips pressing together. He doesn’t say a word. His jacket is open and despite the cold, his shirt feels warm under my hands. My fingers tighten in the thick, soft cotton covering hard muscle.

“Why?” I ask again, raising one hand to his throat, my thumb tracing the roughness along his jawline.

He goes rigid as stone, his voice dropping a whole octave, from deep to dangerous. “Don’t go there, Seph. You won’t like the answer.”

I study his lips forming my name, ignoring the rest. Trying to play him is definitely backfiring. Oh, Jack’s mouth.

It’s one of my favorite parts of him, though I have…had a lot of favorites. His lips are chiseled perfection: firm and masculine, but flirting with lush. I raise my hand and run the tip of my finger over that delicious lower curve. He sucks in a breath but still refuses to move. I can’t read his eyes in the dark. Not that reading him is any easier in broad daylight.

Good thing I’m not really interested in what he’s thinking at the moment. I wanted to push his buttons, now I want more.

“You can’t possibly taste as good as I remember,” I whisper, half to myself, but loud enough I know he hears.

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