Chapter 20

Ch. 20: Julian

Every time Dane and I make love, he makes sure I hear an 'I love you' in every look and touch. Even when he uses me hard, when I want it fast and rough, he's always careful, attentive, and watchful for the slightest sign of discomfort or pain. Part of this stems from his love for me as his mate, but part stems from what he knows about my past.

That's the part I don't like: when he's so careful not to hurt me, he reminds me that I can, in fact, be hurt.

Sometimes a little tenderness goes a long way, and sometimes a guy just wants to get fucked.

I decide to make it clear which sort of time this is and get our 'supplies' in order before arranging myself in a somewhat provocative display.

When he emerges from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his eyes travel the visual buffet I'd arranged for him with a hunger that sends a little tingle up my spine. Then his gaze lands on my cast—the only thing I'm wearing—and his appetite vanishes, replaced by something softer and tinged with regret.

From that one look, I can tell I'm in for the 'rare orchid' treatment—as if I'll break if he breathes on me wrong—and I'm not in the mood for it.

I am in the mood for some fun, though; so as he crawls towards me across the bed, I sit up and meet him halfway, looping my arms around his neck as his hands settle on my waist.

"Hello, gorgeous," I say, angling my eyes down and between us. "Long time, no see."

"You saw all there is to see this morning, Julian," he returns. "Or was it that forgettable?"

"You're never forgettable, but I'll take a reminder."

He kisses me with tender passion, as if my mouth tastes like pleasure, and I shiver as his warm, rough hands traverse my skin. When I can tell he's about to push me down and raise the heat, I nip his bottom lip playfully.

"Ow."

He pulls away, frowning and rubbing at his mouth.

"What was that for?"

"Just a little payback," I murmur, resting a hand on his chest and giving him a light shove. It's not nearly hard enough to move him, but he yields and falls back into the pillows. "I can give as good as I get, you know."

He smiles up at me crookedly, one long canine snagging his lip. "I do. Maybe even better."

"We'll have to be quiet," I whisper. "We have a houseguest, remember? And she's your little sister. I want to be able to make eye contact tomorrow."

"You're the one who makes all the noise," he whispers in reply, stretching his arms overhead and displaying the muscles of his torso to full effect.

"Maybe you should try gagging me."

"Nah. I like the sounds you make. But if you really want something in your mouth, I have an idea."

I raise my brows at him and smirk. "You're lucky I like the way you think."

Wetting my lips, I keep my eyes locked with his as long as I can as I lower myself between his thighs and kiss the tip of his erection. A twitch in his abdominal muscles makes it jump a little, and I laugh under my breath.

As I set to work distracting him with the wet heat of my mouth, I drizzle some lube over the fingers of my good hand and then, teasingly, slip them down past his balls to his ass.

His body jolts as I test his entrance, and I stop what I'm doing and lift myself to look at him.

"Is it okay? We don't have to."

His expression flickers with surprise, and an instant later, I realize what it sounds like I'm asking. Then his expression settles again, and he shakes his head and answers a little breathlessly.

"No—it's okay. I trust you, Julian."

The sincerity and openness on his face give me pause. I'd only meant to tease him a little, but his surrender tells me nothing about this is a joke to him.

My amusement fades as I realize how switching roles makes me understand him better.

Being dominant means being responsible—not just for another person's pleasure, but for their safety and trust as well. The fact he's willing to be that vulnerable for me means more than he knows.

I also see how a good top takes his lead from his bottom, which is where the real power lies.

It might be fun to switch things up now and then, but not tonight.

I get back to work, teasing him with my mouth and hand, and I can't deny I do enjoy the sensation of having a powerful alpha quite literally wrapped around my finger.

Finally, he gently grasps the back of my hair and pulls me off him, and I take a moment to appreciate the fruits of my labor.

His smooth skin shines with a light sheen of sweat, his chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, and a flush darkens his full lips. Meanwhile, his cock leaks pre-cum like a fountain.

"Julian... Are you gonna finish this? You're killing me," he gasps.

I smirk. "There are worse ways to go."

A little smugly, I grab the lube again, but this time it's not for him. Straddling his hips, I guide him into me, taking him slow until he's fully seated. Then I stop and make him watch as I stroke myself off with him inside me.

It's too much, and with a barely stifled groan, he comes hard, his hips bucking with reflexive thrusts that push me over the edge as well.

Pulling off him, I collapse across his chest, a literal hot mess, and kiss his mouth.

"Fifteen seconds," I tease. "Just like our first time."

"Shit." He laughs, kissing me in return. "I think I like you on top."

***

In the morning, Dane meets with Chloe to discuss the land-bond ritual. It's not required, he tells me, but it's polite to convey his intentions and ask her blessing as head of the local shifter clan.

Meanwhile, I drive Ingrid into town for orchestra practice before returning to the burglar-prone block to interview our remaining suspects and apply our new animal detective angle.

Lagrange's bike shop is at one end of the street while the Price's bakery is at the other. Between these are the hardware store, the thrift store, a local art gallery, a smoothie shop, and Danni Spelling's place.

I park in front of Trinkets and Treasures, but there's a 'closed' sign in the window and the interior is dark. Stephanie must be taking the day off, though it's not like her to do so. She'd stay open 24/7/365 if she could. Maybe Lagrange's 'double' death got to her, or maybe she's just tired of cops and reporters hanging around. Whatever the case, I'll have to wait for her to open before I find out, and hope she's willing to talk to me when she does.

In the meantime, I head up the street to the cafe.

Daniel and Liza Price are the sort of well-matched, perpetually cheerful, middle-aged, middle-class couple who seem almost too happy. I mean, nobody's that well-adjusted... are they? Their affectionate banter and bright smiles could be hiding all kinds of dark shit.

Then again, maybe they're just genuinely nice people.

As Daniel tells me he ordered the brand of Peruvian Fair Trade coffee I'd mentioned in passing and Liza gives me a free chocolate-chip cookie with my drink, my unkind suspicions dissipate.

They don't have any pets (Liza loves animals, but she's deathly allergic, or so she tells me) but no skin-changer in their right mind would take either of them: it would be an exhausting act to keep up.

Coffee in hand, I narrowly escape another lengthy rendition of Liza's life history, and head on down the street to the hardware store.

There, Marta and Sergio Ortiz shower me with apologies, having learned of Ingrid's relation to Dane. I do my best to reassure them, though I can't really speak to Ingrid's feelings on the matter. I can, however, be pretty sure that Marta and Sergio are in the clear on the skin-changer front—at least according to the pair of cats who live in their store.

Then again, we're basing our animal theory on one German shepherd, and as I told Dane, not every dog is Rin Tin Tin or Hachiko. Just like people, some are smart, and some are dumb as bricks.

And who even knows about cats? Maybe they don't give a shit.

Something tells me that's not the case, though, and as Nails purrs and butts his head against my legs while Marta writes up a complementary gift certificate for Dane, I mentally scratch the pair off the suspect list.

Even so, I open my senses a little as I stroke Hammer's long smoke-and-cream colored fur on my way out, but all I get is the impression that he's a little bored, and he thinks there might be mice in the back wall.

Next, I head down the street to Craft Essentials, where Danni Spelling welcomes me with a bright smile and a hand sign I used to associate with punks and rock concerts, but which I've since learned represents the horned god, and is a used as a greeting between witches.

"Julian! Blessed be!"

Danni is in their mid-thirties, has pale skin and closely shaved dark hair, is petite and pixie-like, and gets mis-gendered so often they rarely bother correcting people even when they wear a shirt declaring their pronouns across the colors of the nonbinary flag.

"Hi, Danni. How's the, uh... spell-craft business going?" I glance around at the shelves stocked with tiny bottles of essential oils, colorful handmade soaps, scented candles, dried herbs, crystals, books, and various other items and wonder if my question is insensitive. The few customers I've seen in Danni's shop haven't seemed like big spenders.

"Great!" Danni exclaims. "Ninety percent of my business is online, actually. The store is just a place to keep it all and make a few extra bucks on the side."

As I glance around the shop again, it makes sense. Everything is arranged to make it easy to locate and identify, and the labels include information like the item's inventory number and color, presumably to reduce the chance Danni would send the wrong one by mistake.

At the moment, they're sorting small polished gemstones into neat little baskets on a table, arranged by color and size.

"So, what can I do for you?" Danni asks. "You need a spell-kit, or a candle? Something for focus and insight, or clearing the mind? You got a big decision ahead of you, I think."

Taken aback, I fail to hide my surprise, and Danni laughs.

"I'm psychic, like you, remember? I told you, I see auras."

Danni had told me that, I recall, but I hadn't believed them.

They gesture at me. "Your aura is all... swirly and agitated. 'Big decision' was just a guess based on what I've seen before. Am I right?"

"Yeah. I already made it, though," I say, thinking of the land-bond.

Danni grins cheekily. "Maybe that's what you've told yourself, but your aura says otherwise. So, not to be nosy, but what is it? You finally gonna put a ring on that man of yours and tie him down?"

I blink. Whether their ability is real or not, Danni is certainly insightful.

"Something like that," I say, smiling. "But I'm actually here for another reason."

Danni turns back to the table and continues sorting gems. "Yeah, I figured. The cops were here earlier, asking all kinds of questions about the building, my relationship with Jeff—all that jazz."

"You were close with Lagrange?" I ask, surprised by the familiar nickname.

Danni shrugs. "I guess. He was a bona fide skeptic and gave me endless grief about the 'witchy shit,' as he called it, but he sort of took me under his wing, too. He had, like, thirty years experience as a small business owner, and genuinely wanted me to succeed. At least... that's how it seemed until recently."

"What happened recently?"

"I don't know. Like I told that dweeby detective—Halloran, or whatever his name is—I hardly saw Jeff in the last few weeks before he died. I went over to talk to him about a new marketing strategy, and he acted like he didn't know me. Then I saw him spending an awful lot of time next door with Steph, and I figured maybe I didn't know him as well as I'd thought I did, either."

"Lagrange was hanging out with Stephanie Wong?"

Danni nods. "Only recently, though. I honestly thought he didn't like her."

I frown as I infer two things. First, that Halloran is still using his glamour to affect how he's perceived, and second, that he hasn't been completely forthcoming with the information. Unless he just hasn't had the chance to pass the intel along.

"You told the cops all that this morning?" I ask.

"Yeah. And when they interviewed me at the station, and right after Jeff died. Is it important?"

"I don't know," I say, which is the truth. "Hey, I know this is probably the last thing you want to do right now, but would you mind telling me what you told the police? As much as you can remember?"

Danni casts me a sly, sidelong look. "While you're waiting for me to make you up that spell-kit, you mean?"

I laugh. "Sounds like a deal."

As Danni selects various items from the shelves, wraps them carefully, and packs them into a small cloth pouch, they recount their conversations with detectives Vasquez and Halloran while I take careful notes on my phone. Most of it Dane and I already know, but a few choice tidbits are new. The revelation that Lagrange—or rather the skin-changer that had taken his place—had been friendly with Wong remains the most interesting point, however, and puts Stephanie at the top of my suspect list.

With their story concluded, Danni puts the finishing touches on the spell-kit.

"Okay... now a gem for you to concentrate on and ground your energies. Let's see..." They take a step back and look me up and down. "Amethyst. That's definitely your stone."

"Oh, really?" I roll my eyes and laugh. "Who'd have guessed?"

"What do you mean?" Danni asks, sounding perplexed.

I point at my eyes. "Are you colorblind?"

Danni's expression flickers. "Actually... yeah, I am. That's why I label everything so carefully."

Mortified by my thoughtlessness, I roast in the instant broil of embarrassment. "Shit. I'm so sorry. I didn't even think—"

Danni laughs. "Dude, relax. It's okay. People don't know unless I tell them."

"Still, I shouldn't have assumed..."

Danni waves dismissively. "Don't worry about it. Anyway, what's with your eyes? They're not blue?"

"No. They're purple. Like a bright, obvious purple."

"Wow!" Danni leans closer, their own eyes wide as they peer at mine. "That's super rare, right? I can't see the red part of purple, so it just looks like blue to me."

"So," I ask, my curiosity overcoming my mortification at last, "if you didn't know I had purple eyes, why'd you say amethyst was my stone?"

"Just something in your aura," Danni says.

"I thought auras were... um... colorful," I say, and wince.

Danni only smiles. "So much of our language and communication is vision-based. Most people think if you're psychic, it means you 'see' things. You and I know better, right?"

"Yeah," I agree. "I mostly feel stuff—emotions, sensations, that sort of thing."

Danni nods. "It's the same for me. I may not 'see' colors, but I feel them. When I look at you, I feel purple. 'Purple' is an in-between color. It can mean a perfect blend of things, or it can signify the state of being caught between two options—uncertainty, a big decision. That sort of thing. When I look at you, I sense the latter kind of purple."

They place the stone they'd selected for me and a card with instructions in the bag and tie it shut with a bit of hemp string before handing it over.

"So, there you go: a spell for insight and clarity."

Suitably impressed, I take it and fish out my wallet. "What do I owe you?"

"Nothing," Danni rests a hand on my arm and smiles. "It's a gift. Just let me know how it goes."

I thank them and prepare to leave, when a new thought strikes me, and I turn back.

"Hey, when you went to visit Jeffrey and he acted strange, did his, er, 'aura,' look any different to you?"

Danni nods. "Yes, actually. Jeff's energy was always steady and settled—like a river in an old course. He knew what worked for him and he stuck to it. The last time I talked to him, he was all..." Danni scrunches their face and waves a hand. "I don't know. I'd almost say frightened. He was all over the map."

"Did you tell the police that?"

"I mean... I mentioned he seemed different, but I didn't get into the psychic angle. You know how cops are."

"You'd be surprised," I say. "Some are pretty open-minded. Anyway, this might sound strange, but if you notice anyone else whose aura suddenly changes, could you let us know?"

I hand over a business card, and Danni takes it with a nod. "Sure. I can do that."

Spell-kit in hand, I take my leave and walk back down the street towards to my car, where I see that Stephanie's shop is still closed. I consider calling Halloran—telling him of my new suspicions, and asking for his help—but I decide against it. If Danni told him everything they told me, then he already knows.

I sit in my car a while longer, hoping that Stephanie will show, but after thirty minutes, I get hungry and bored, and then it's time to pick Ingrid up from the college.

At home, I find Dane on the phone. He's deeply absorbed in something, taking careful notes, and after eavesdropping for a few minutes I gather he's talking to his mom about the land-bonding ritual. I give him some privacy, and help Ingrid carry Charlie the Cello over to Chloe and Grace's for her daily practice session.

Later, over dinner, Dane and Ingrid talk about wolf things and entertain me with stories from their childhoods. Seeing Dane relaxed and laughing is a nice change, and I don't want to bring down the mood, so I don't mention the information I'd gleaned from Danni. Tomorrow will be soon enough to discuss the case.

With dinner concluded, Dane and Ingrid head out for a Run, and Dane tells me not to wait up. As part of the lead-up to the ritual, he needs to patrol the borders of the land he intends to claim every night, and it will take a while.

In the meantime, I catch up on some reading, do some adulting I've been putting off, and eventually go to bed.

Sometime later, I feel the bed dip and move over to make room for Dane. When he crawls right over me, I mumble an objection and try to push him off. As horny as I can be, I'm not actually always in the mood. Rather than comply, though, he grabs my wrist in a viselike grip and pins me to the bed, which is when it finally gets through my sleep-addled brain that the person on top of me is not, in fact, Dane.

At which point, I awaken and stare up into a pair of bright purple eyes.