He didn't allow his shock to show in his face. "Woo-woo stuff?"
She approached the table. "You put something in the chocolate last night, didn't you?" Apparently he didn't hide his wince well enough. She sat with a sigh. "You know if my Grammy hadn't told me to trust my instincts you'd be in serious shit right now."
Thank you Grandmother Evans. He'd have to write the woman an appropriate thank you note. Possibly after the wedding. "What are your instincts telling you?"
She studied him for a moment before picking up her coffee cup. "To trust you. Why, I have no clue, considering you drugged me last night."
He sat across from her, loving the look of his jacket on her skin. He'd think of her now every time he wore that suit. "You can, you know. Trust me, I mean. And you needed some sleep last night. I was worried the flight through the woods would keep you awake all night."
"Uh-huh." Her skeptical look spoke volumes, but apparently she was willing to let it slide. "What exactly is going on, anyway?"
He thought about lying to her for exactly two seconds. He had one shot at this. There was no way he was going to fuck it up. And something told him that lying to her was not a good way to get his little witch to trust him. "Do you remember how I told you there was a price to pay for learning to live with the wolf?"
"Yes." She took a bite of her eggs, sighing softly. "Mmm. You're a very good cook, by the way."
He actually blushed. That was the first time a woman had ever complimented him on his cooking. It meant more to him than any compliment he'd ever received before, mostly because she was the one who gave it.
She smiled softly. "Go on."
He cleared his throat. He had the feeling he'd just handed her something he'd miss like hell one day.
"Yes. Well, that price for learning to live with the wolf was taking mates."
"Mates."
He nodded.
"You mean more than one?"
"No!" Lord, don't let her think that. I'm going to be in enough trouble from stuff I do, let alone stuff I don't. "I meant that each Beckett in every generation casts a spell that pulls their perfect mate to them. We never know what fate is going to send us." He kissed her knuckles, enjoying the soft flush that crept up her cheeks. "Fate sent me you."
She put her fork down. "You're essentially werewolves."
He shrugged. He'd heard worse terms than that. "I suppose. That was the compromise the human made with the wolf. One mate, one forever mate that pleases us both."
"Forever mate?"
He nodded. "Wolves mate for life."
He loved watching the emotions that crossed her face in rapid succession. "Me?"
He grinned, knowing she'd see the hunger in it. The possession. Hell, the pride. She was taking this a great deal better than some of the Beckett women had.
Right up until she shrieked, that was. "No way!" She leapt from the table. "No fucking way!"
He crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to allow hurt to seep in. She barely knew him. She was entitled to a little rant. Still, what was wrong with him? "Why not?"
"You're a wizard!"
He blinked. So what? "I'm also a werewolf."
She waved that away, like it was nothing. "I'm a witch!"
"And?"
"Witches and wizards don't marry!"
"Mate."
She glared at him. "We'd kill each other inside of a week, and you know it."
"No I don't." He was beginning to enjoy the sight of her pacing, waving her arms, the ends of the suit jacket flapping at the tips of her fingers. Each stride revealed a lovely length of leg that had him practically drooling.
"You're too rigid."
"Damn straight." He was becoming so rigid it was beginning to be uncomfortable.
"I'm … what did you say?"
"Hmm? Oh. Nothing. Continue, please."
"You'll think I'm too flighty."
"Mm-hmm."
She waved her arms, the bottom of the jacket hitting the very tops of her thighs. His knees wobbled when a slight glimpse of her pussy teased him before her arms lowered. "The first time I cast a spell you'd feel the urge to "correct" me."
"And the first time you saw me turn into a wolf?" He nearly fell out of his chair when she made a rude sound. "That … doesn't bother you?"
She looked confused. "Why would it?"
"Why would … woman, do you have any idea how many potential partners have turned me down when they hear my last name?" Christopher stalked closer to her, aware he sounded enraged. In some ways he was. The defining characteristic of his family, the one that he always thought would be a sticking point for any potential bride, and she dismissed it like it was nothing, harping instead on the fact that he was a wizard?
Her low mutter almost got lost in his low growl. "Oh, sure, throw your conquests in my face."
He cupped a hand to his ear. "Care to repeat that?"
She snarled at him. "Look, Captain Oblivious. Witch. Wizard. Oil. Water."
"Werewolf." He cupped her chin, enjoying the way her eyes went wide. "Tasty morsel." He leaned down and licked her neck. He damn near groaned. She tasted incredible.
"I'm not entirely certain I'm on the menu yet."
He smiled against her neck. "You said yet."
"Tricky dog," she grumbled.
He laughed, pulling her into his arms. He lifted his head to stare down into her sulky face. "How about a trial run?"
"You don't even know my name."
"Alannah Evans."
She smacked him in the arm. Hard.
"Ow!"
"How do you know that? Your spell?"
Well, maybe one little lie wouldn't hurt. "Yes."
"Uh-huh." Her eyes narrowed. "Where's my purse?"
Busted. "In the great room."
"And did it just happen to fall open at some point in the last twelve hours?"
"Possibly." He made sure he had a good hold of her waist and prepared to throw his thigh in the way of any wandering knees.
When she growled at him, he had to laugh. She sounded so fiercely cute. Not that he'd tell her that.
He was a smart man, and enjoyed living with both his balls intact.
"Alannah, I just wanted to know your name."
"Congratulations, now you know. Give me my clothes."
He sighed. "I didn't get to finish my story last night. Would you like to hear it over breakfast?"
"With my clothes?"
He rolled his eyes. "All right. I'll return with them shortly." He walked to the door of the bedroom.
"Don't go anywhere."
"You really enjoy ordering me to stay, don't you?" He snorted, amused. She crossed her arms, the long ends of his suit jacket flapping over her arms, the edge of the jacket creeping up her thighs.
"Besides, unlike some people I know, running around naked in the woods is not my idea of a good time."
He allowed a slow smile to cross his face at the thought of her running naked through his forest. His gaze ate her up from top to bottom, remembering the look of her dashing through his bedroom.
"That's too bad."
Her face was flushed, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and heat. "Clothes, perv!"
He laughed softly and walked out of the bedroom, ignoring her mutters. He returned swiftly with her clothes, hoping to catch one more glimpse of creamy thigh. He'd taken the time last night to make sure her outfit was clean and dry, knowing she'd more than likely want her clothes. He, on the other hand, would be more than happy to keep her naked for the rest of her life.
He handed her clothes to her with a small bow. "Here you are, m'lady."
She took them, smiling warily. "Thanks." She gestured towards the bathroom. "I'll be right back."
She headed for the bathroom, giving him an unreadable look before closing the door behind her.
Christopher settled into one of the chairs by the small table, filling his plate with food. She might not be hungry, but he was starving.
She came out a few minutes later dressed in everything but the poncho, socks and boots she'd been wearing the night before. "Thank you for washing my clothes."
He smiled, trying to look harmless. "You're welcome." He stood and held out her chair. "Are you ready to finish breakfast?"
She studied him intently for a moment, the scrutiny making him vaguely uneasy, before settling daintily into the chair. "Thank you." She took another bite of the cooling eggs, then a sip of the coffee. "Mmm. It's good, even cold." She smiled at him. "Now. Forever mates. Ancestral curses. A daily yearning for Kibbles ‘n Bits."