Summer Cursed

“It is.”

My jaw dropped. I turned back to stare at the box that held the manuscript that Charlotte Brontë had held in her hands. “How? Isn’t it supposed to be in the British Library?”

“It is.”

I rolled my eyes. “Say more words, please.”

“This is the original. I will not share more information. You will not share what little you know. Understood?”

Pursing my lips, I turned back to him. “Ah, Mr. Fraser, you’re sneaky. I like it.”

I think he meant his smirk to be threatening, but it just made him look sexy as hell. “Red, you have no idea. You’d be wise to mind yourself.”

Annoyed by his arrogance and at myself for thinking he was sexy, even for a second, I forgot about the manuscript.

“Mind myself? Really?” He didn’t respond, so I went to stand in front of him, hands on my hips. “You’d be wise to stop calling me Red, Mr. Fraser.”

“Why are you here?”

“I want to talk to the women Chris assaulted.”

“No,” he said as he turned to leave the room.

“Excuse me? Don’t just walk away from me.” I followed him down the hall. “I want, no, I need to talk to them, Liam.” I took his arm to stop him from walking any further. He stopped moving but instead of turning around he stared at my hand. “Yeah, we keep shocking each other.”

“Yes, well, I have work to do.” He removed my hand from his arm and clenched his into a fist. “You can show yourself out.”

“No.”

“No?” He repeated the word as if it were foreign to him.

“I’m not leaving until you give me a good reason for not telling me who the women are.”

He stared at me for a few moments. He was always staring at me. “Follow me.”

I followed him up the stairs into a room set up as a home office unlike any I’d seen. More books lined the wall behind his massive desk. Like a magnet, the shelves pulled me to them. My fingers danced along the leather spines as I read the titles. These were not for pleasure reading.

“You sure have a lot of interests,” I said scrunching up my nose. “What is it you do?”

“That’s not pertinent. Have a seat.” He gestured to a leather armchair in front of the desk. “Why do you want to speak to the women?”

The comfort level of the stern looking chair surprised me. “Don’t you find it odd that they didn’t go to their Alphas? We are talking about the most severe crime a shifter can commit. It’s always been my understanding that an Alpha was to take these situations seriously, without question.”

“That is true.”

A frustrated groan escaped me. His brevity was infuriating. “Again, don’t you find it odd they didn’t report it?”

“I do.”

“Holy fuckballs, are you capable of stringing together a full sentence?”

His lips twitched upward. “I am.”

I growled at him. “Stop fucking with me, Mr. Fraser.”

“I am not fucking with you, Red.” He grinned when I growled again. “I’ve answered all your questions. What more do you want from me?”

“The names of the women.”