Spirited Legacy (Lost Library) (2 page)

She gave her head a tiny but emphatic shake.
Enough.
He’d deserved it. And it was over.

John had waited patiently to discuss the situation. As well he should, since the whole thing was his fault. Well, mostly his fault, she conceded. More than half his fault, she finally decided. It was past time to have an adult conversation. Especially since the thought of discussing it wasn’t triggering an unexpected magical light show.

“Okay. Tell me when this mysterious ceremony took place. The one that seems to have resulted in us basically being married. Oh, and when I said yes.” Lizzie’s voice had a hard edge. “When
exactly
did I say yes?”

John winced. “How about I explain why first.” He leaned forward in his chair, forearms on his thighs. His face was intent, and the movement shifted him closer to Lizzie.

Lizzie bit her lip and nodded. He was so incredibly appealing in this serious, earnest mood.

“We’ve never talked about what it means to be Lycan. Most of the time, I’m just a man. But sometimes it gets complicated.” He huffed out a frustrated breath. “A lot like your magic when you’re upset, the wolf in me doesn’t always handle stressful situations as rationally as the human in me might like.”

John never spoke about his magic. She’d thought it was too private, and he wasn’t comfortable discussing something so intimate. So she was surprised that this was the beginning of their discussion.

Then Lizzie thought about what he’d said and frowned in confusion. “You talk about your wolf like he’s another person. I thought that you were always John, the human, but sometimes you were furry?”

“Not exactly.” He shifted in his chair, leaning back again. “I’m always the man. And there’s not actually a wolf, more that my magic has the feel of a wolf. The man and the wolf aspect of my magic are like two aspects of my personality that live in harmony. Most of the time.” John looked at Lizzie intently, his face tense and worried.

Suddenly, Lizzie realized that John—who never seemed to lack confidence—might be unsure. Worried about how she felt about him, how she felt about the differences between them. She waited.

“When you’re in danger, I’m anxious. Unsettled. Even if I know rationally that there’s nothing I can do, or that you can take care of yourself.” He caught and held her gaze. “Those facts don’t alter the way I or my wolf feels.”

Lizzie was sure he was thinking about the magical confrontation she’d had with Worth. Lizzie had come out the victor—even if she wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. Or how she’d done—whatever she did.

“Add my wolf’s anxiety to the very real threat you were under as an unaffiliated Record Keeper. And the fact that you’ve been reluctant to commit and affiliate with a Lycan pack. It was stressful.” John looked tense. His eyes narrowed, and Lizzie occasionally saw the twitch of a muscle in his jaw. Lizzie looked at the large, muscular, competent man sitting in front of her. He’d been worried. Okay, probably very worried.
Dangit.
Her heart warmed a little at that thought.

“You know why I was reluctant. I know almost nothing about Lycan, and what little I do know has left a mixed impression.” Lizzie thought of her experiences with Clark, on the one hand, and John, on the other. “And making me your mate in the eyes of the Lycan community was the only way you knew to mark me as Pack right away?”

Pissed as she was, she could understand his argument—up to a point. As a pack member, she would be protected by the laws and customs governing Lycan packs. That much she did understand. If she’d been a member of the Texas Pack, Clark’s pack wouldn’t have grabbed her.

Lycan may consider her a Record Keeper, or a person with a particular talent for reading magical texts, but she’d learned she was actually a spell caster. So her talents were broader than just reading magical texts. If she could develop her skills—particularly offensive and defensive warding—she might not need a pack to protect her.

John spoke into the lengthening silence. “I acted rashly.”

And that was the heart of the matter. He
had
acted rashly. Both in making her the Alpha Mate of the Texas Pack and in moving their relationship forward. Understanding why John acted as he had didn’t change the facts. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to take the next step in their relationship. They’d just discovered their feelings for one another. Taking a day or 600 to let those feelings slowly mature and deepen seemed like a good idea to Lizzie. Especially since she thought John was the One. She wanted this to work. Her heart cracked a little when she thought it might not.

The creamy filling to this sticky situation was the role of mate to the Texas Pack’s Alpha. Texas was the largest pack in North America, and the position of Alpha was the most powerful single position in the pack structure. Lizzie wasn’t even sure exactly what an Alpha Mate did, but it sounded a lot like being a politician’s wife. She couldn’t even
imagine
being involved in politics.

She needed time to figure out magic, to learn more about Lycan, to let her feelings for John settle. And John had taken that away.

“You were worried about me, and you thought making me your mate would keep me safe. I get it.” He frowned in response to her words but waited for her to finish. “But you and I need time. You can’t rush certain things. I’m not sure how I feel about taking on a completely new set of responsibilities…especially when I don’t even know what a mate
does
. All while we’re trying to give us—this, whatever it is between us—a chance.”

John stood up and walked to the counter. It was as if he couldn’t stand still and tension radiated from him. “I don’t think you do understand. I wasn’t worried; I was terrified. I’ve been in relationships before. I’ve even been in love.” Her gaze lifted immediately, but he was staring out the window.

He hadn’t told her he loved her. It was early days; she wasn’t even sure she wanted to hear it. What would she say in return?
I think I’m falling in love with you—but give me a sec ‘cause I’m not sure if I’m quite there yet?
Her feelings for him were complicated, a little confused, and very new. And what part did magic play in their relationship? Everything had happened so fast up to this point, she needed more time to assure herself that her feelings were real and based on something—attraction, passion, friendship, trust—not magic or wolfy pheromones.

John turned away from the window. His eyes briefly made contact with hers; then his gaze skittered away to a point a foot or so in front of her. Like he was shying away from too much intimacy. “Not only do I have feelings for you, but my magic, my wolf aspect, my wolf—however you think of it—is involved in my feelings. The need to protect you and to know where you are, those feelings are intense. It’s disconcerting, and it certainly impacted my actions. And while I’m sorry that I’ve jeopardized our relationship, I can’t be sorry that you’re safer now.”

Lizzie stood up, walked over to John, and wrapped her arms around him. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and just held on.

“Does this mean you’re not mad?” Lizzie could hear a teasing note in his voice.

“You know it doesn’t.” She snuggled a little closer. “It means I care about you, and we’ll try to sort it out.” She took a step away from him, arms still draped over his shoulders, and said, “But I think I’m still allowed to be mad. We should have had this conversation before you even thought about announcing to the world that I’m your wolfy-wife.”

He tried to suppress a grin and failed. “Is that what you are? My wolfy-wife?”

She decided he was irresistible, and she grinned right back. “Sure. If I can call you Fluffy.”

He chuckled. “Don’t you dare. Though there are some fond memories attached to that name.”

After a quick kiss, she turned and sat back down at the kitchen table. After a few seconds, her forehead wrinkled. “Ugh. We haven’t even begun to discuss the Pack’s book, let alone the whole Record Keeper job. And I haven’t had any time at all to study the book.” She dropped her head on the table, forehead resting lightly against the surface. When she spoke again, frustration vibrated in her voice. “I only just learned how to use my spell caster talent. I can finally read that darn book, but there’s no time. I haven’t even caught up on my sleep yet.” She lifted her head off the table and scrunched her nose up in annoyance. “This is what I’m talking about. Too much stuff, happening too fast. Who can keep up?”

“Sorry about the sleep part,” John said sheepishly.

Her expression turned mischievous. “Hmm. You’re so
not
sorry. And you’d be in serious trouble if you were.” She sighed. “Are you going to tell me what exactly a mate does? What role I would have in the Pack?”

“Maybe tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.

Lizzie eyed the small piece of bacon and half slice of toast still left on her breakfast plate. “I think now would be best,” she said with resignation.

He looked like he was debating his options. Lizzie tapped her fingers on the table and considered chunking her toast at him. But before she could pick it up off the plate, her cell rang. She dug it out of her back jeans pocket, and, once she saw the caller ID screen, she immediately answered it.

Scowling, she said, “Hello, Harrington. This is a surprise.”

Chapter 2

“H
ello, Lizzie. I hope the trip home went well.” Harrington sounded calm. But he always sounded calm and controlled to Lizzie, even in the midst of a major crisis.

Harrington was the Director of Investigations for the Inter-Pack Policing Cooperative, or IPPC. His call wasn’t expected, and she couldn’t guess why he’d need to speak with her so soon. She’d last seen Harrington four days ago in Prague when he’d taken possession of the Lost Library—after Worth had been injured during her rescue, fled, and then abandoned the Library.

Lizzie sighed wistfully. She couldn’t help but remember the vast number of magical texts housed in the basement Library. It had been awe-inspiring to be in the same room with so much history and magic. And without the stress and fear caused by her captivity, the Library held even more appeal.

“I’m thankful to be home safe.” Lizzie’s reply was short. She was never sure how much to tell Harrington. Or how much he wanted to hear. All business, that was Harrington.

“What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I hope I can do something for
you
,” Harrington replied unexpectedly. “I’ve hired one spell caster to staff the Library, and I’m actively searching for a second. Until I can find another caster, I’d like to offer you a job. And a mentor.”

Lizzie’s brain immediately started to work through all of the ramifications. Spend time with all of those gorgeous and fascinating books. Definitely good. Spend time away from John. Definitely very bad. Especially given the unresolved question of her role in the Pack and in John’s life.

“How long will you need someone?” she asked.

“Not someone—you. I know you’re in need of a mentor. I think it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement and worth the trouble of the temporary move. For both of us.” Harrington paused and then finally answered her original question. “I’m estimating about a month.”

Mentoring with a spell caster like Harrington was impossible locally. She didn’t have any magical connections in the United States. And casters didn’t exactly advertise. If the information she’d gotten from her European friends was correct, the spell caster community was much smaller in the States. She’d also heard Harrington was unique in the strength and breadth of his talent.

Certainly, this was an exciting opportunity for all of those reasons.

Lizzie bit at her lip. The thought of having ready access to someone who wanted to share magical knowledge was incredibly appealing, but her graphic design clients were already somewhat neglected after her recent kidnap adventure. “I’m not sure leaving my business for a month is a good idea.”

“Did I mention this was a paid position? Technically, you’ll be a consultant. Room, board, flight, and a small stipend for the stay are covered. Your free time is your own. So you can keep in touch with clients during your off-hours, if you choose.” Harrington had an answer for everything.

Just as Lizzie was about tell him that she’d need a day or two to think about it—and talk to John, but Harrington didn’t need to know that—he added, “I know you’ll need to get Braxton’s permission before you can commit—”

“I’m sorry. What?” Lizzie interrupted.

“As the Texas Pack Alpha Mate, any travel across pack territory lines would be approved by the Alpha.” There was a brief silence, and then Harrington said, “I assumed. Probably incorrectly.”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed as she looked over at John and her pulse kicked up a notch. He’d been quietly sipping coffee and checking email on his cell throughout her phone conversation. “I’ll get back to you.” Then she hung up on Harrington.

She really needed to reevaluate her manners these days. Add a little stress and she became a stranger to herself, a rude person. One who cussed.
Dammit.
She barely recognized herself.

“What did I do?” John said.

“Your crazy-keen wolfy hearing didn’t pick up the other end of that conversation?” She still wasn’t sure exactly what he could and couldn’t do. But she’d been in the same room; he should have been able to hear both sides of the conversation with his keen hearing.

“I wasn’t paying any attention, and I have no idea what Harrington said to upset you.” John’s temper was slow to ignite, but Lizzie may have managed to prime the pump by avoiding “the talk” for two days. He sounded like he might be losing his patience. “I don’t actually try to listen in. Sometimes you just make it impossible to avoid.”

“According to Harrington, I need your permission to leave town. Is that true?” Her tone was grim. Fair or not, she was upset. No. She was more than upset. Frustrated? Angry? Disappointed? She rolled her shoulders, trying to stretch out the tension gathering in her neck. All of those and more.

John shifted uncomfortably, avoiding direct eye contact.

“What exactly am I supposed to do? Run my travel plans by you for approval every time I decide to visit my parents or want to take a trip with friends?” Her nostrils flared and her face flushed. She knew her fair skin turned a brilliant shade of rosy pink when she was flustered or angry, and she was both right now.