Spade’s wasn’t magically hidden from the rest of the world. Of course, humans didn’t know what we were, but there wasn’t any harm in them seeing a biker bar as they drove down the highway. Anyone could come into this parking lot at any time. If a human did walk inside, I or Emory told them that we were a membership only club, and they had to get out. But anyone could drive or walk into this parking lot.
No one had.
Yesterday, there was no scent, no heartbeat, no footsteps. Even now. All I smelled was the burned powder that ejected that bullet inside of me. Not a person’s pheromones, not anyone’s breath, not any cologne or perfume.
No one was here, but the casing of a bullet was.
It made no fucking sense.
But I was a wolf who’d sniffed for everything I could. I needed the help of someone who had magic on their side.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
BROOKE
Yawning, I lifted the book from the returned cart and set it in its place on the shelf. As I picked up the next one, I held my thumb against the edge of the pages and let them fan out before me, filling my nose with my favorite smell in the world.
I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and I’d been nauseous all morning, but that smell seemed to help. So did being here. There really wasn’t anything more soothing than a library early in the morning, and I’d needed the dose of peace after this weekend.
None of the Witches I knew had gotten back to me yet. They all handled their practices like business—meaning they took the weekends off. I was hoping I’d hear back by the evening, but considering I’d only left vague messages on their machines, and I didn’t have an obscene amount of money for a consultation, I wasn’t so sure I’d hear back in the near future.
Reaching for the next book on the cart, a hand touched my shoulder. I jolted, spinning around too fast, nearly knocking myself out with the hardback in my hands.
Two warm brown eyes met mine. A half smile played at his lips, steadying my shoulders before I stumbled. “Sorry. I thought you heard me.”
Declan.
Setting the book onto the cart with one hand, clutching my heart with the other, I glanced him over. His hair was damp, as though he’d just taken a shower. The thick scruff around his square jaw was combed through and trimmed up around his cheeks. That ghastly look in his eyes had faded.
Supposed the accelerated healing had done its job.
But I didn’t remember telling him where I worked. “Why are you here?”
He frowned. “I really didn’t mean it like that.”
“Well, I do.” My voice was low. “How’d you know I was here?”
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not stalking you.”
“Clearly. Stalkers don’t announce themselves.”
He snorted a laugh, head shaking. “You told me you were a librarian and that you worked in the city. This is the only city library I know of.”
“That still begs the question,what’re you doing here?”
The frown came back. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“About?”
“Maybe the fact that I met you and got shot the next day.”
I glared. “Are you suggesting that I shot you? Because—”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered. “That’s not what I was saying—”
“Watch your mouth.”
His eyes narrowed that time.