“I’ll handle it, okay?” His breath dusted my face, spearmint and something sweet.
“Did you eat cake? I could use a slice of cake. I haven’t had cake in…” I trailed away, wondering what the hell was taking him so long. Just yank it out, already!
I flinched at the thought.
“Listen,” he said, his voice still so soft, so comforting. “I wanted to talk to you about the winery.”
As in the winery he’d asked me to buy and run with him. The arrangements had already been made, but what if he’d changed his mind? Did he think it was a bad idea for us to work together?
A wave of worry washed through me, and I blinked my eyes open to see his expression.
His hand moved so fast that I didn’t register it. He grabbed the hilt and yanked.
I cried out, bending in anticipation of a pain I didn’t feel.
A gush of warmth soaked my shirt and then dribbled onto the lip of my jeans. Deep crimson coated the blade in Austin’s hand before he dropped it to the ground and pressed his palm against my wound, bracing his other hand against my back, using pressure to stanch the blood flow. Shifters healed fast, and I healed faster—when I was on my game—but for a handful of heartbeats, magical people bled like anyone else.
“Sorry, I just mentioned the winery for distraction purposes.” Austin grimaced at me, and his smell permeated my world, clean cotton and sweet spice.
“I’m good.” I touched the corded muscle of his bare forearm. “The worst is over.” I glanced down at the knife. “Do you really tell people about my magic?”
“Absolutely. Everyone is warned. I make it very clear that I can’t control you any more than you can control yourself. People are instructed to leave you alone, and if they don’t, they must take what comes. They also know that your property is not part of my territory, and if they trespass, I cannot help them.”
I widened my eyes at him, back to gripping his flaring shoulders while he pressed against my wound. “But Sasquatch said…”
“Ryan just doesn’t seem to learn his lesson.”
I tapped his hands. “I’m good now. Thank you.”
He slowly pulled his hands away, not seeming to notice the flare of crimson staining his palm. “I don’t like this game, by the way,” he said, a growl working into his words. “I don’t like you placidly allowing people to hurt you. If they hit wrong, they could kill you before you could do damage control.”
“I have Jasper pick people because he’s a good judge of character. He usually picks more trustworthy people, though. He either didn’t know that Sasquatch and me—”
“He knew. He’s trying to push you, I think.”
“Ah.” I frowned down the street, noticing Jasper lounging against the wall, easily blending into the building behind him, utterly invisible to everyone except for me because I could see through a gargoyle’s glamor-like magic. Magic I could not figure out how to apply to myself.
“It’s not working.” Austin turned before gently placing his hand on the small of my back, guiding me down the street. He scooped up the knife as we went. “I know I said I’d defer to your judgment of what you can handle, but with all due respect, just because you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”
I sighed with frustration. “I keep hoping it’ll work.”
A man walked toward us with effortless grace and hard gray eyes. Shifter. “Alpha,” he said as he approached, stepping into the street and offering a slight bow. “Miss.”
“Damn that Mr. Tom,” I grumbled, Austin ignoring the man completely. It was apparently an alpha custom to ignore greetings from townspeople and pack members. “He keeps convincing people to call me miss instead of just letting them call me by my name.”
“He wants you to have some semblance of a title. It isn’t a terrible idea.”
“Don’t you start. Turning this town into a big shifter pack is your thing. You need the title; I don’t. I’m just a home owner.”
“The owner of the most powerful magical home in the world, with the ability to create your own army if you so choose.”
“Okay, okay, let’s settle down. No more reading up on the history of Ivy House and its heirs. This is modern times—if I created an army, I’d have the government swooping in, thinking I was a terrorist. Besides, I’m not trying to form some magical empire. I just want to defend my home.” I smoothed my hair back, lowering my brows at him. We slowed to a stop on the corner. “You know what I meant, though. No more asking Edgar about the history of the house. It’s giving you crazy ideas.”
He looked away. “I ask Edgar because I need to know the ins and outs of what I am guarding.”