CHAPTER TWO

As soon as the word ‘kiss' echoes between us, Wyn retreats a tiny step back, her mouth making this perfect ‘O' shape that sends a tightness straight to my tarse, which jerks to attention.

The illicit thrill of the chase zips through me along with a primal hunger. Her eyes widen like she can sense the need pulsing through me.

But I don't worry about Wyn backing down from our bet.

She's a firecracker, not to mention the most competitive person I've ever come across. I knew it the second I interviewed her for the position of marketing specialist here at Boggleworks.

From the first day I met Wyn, I was drawn to her—to her passion, fierceness, and determination—and I haven't been able to stop imagining kissing those pouty lips of hers.

At first, I thought my attraction to her was temporary, something I'd get over…that was ten months ago. Since then, I've only grown more and more captivated.

She never backs down from me, not only as her boss but as a boggart, as well. Whereas most people—especially humans—fear me or fall at my feet, Wyn stands tall and glares daggers at me.

The vixen fights me every step of the way, but I wouldn't want her any other way. There's a mystery to her that I long to unravel—a challenge that I'm too eager to solve.

What makes her laugh?

What are her fantasies?

A rumble rolls through me, and my grin widens at her quick intake of breath. This gorgeous creature doesn't even know the effect she has on me.

Her bronze skin glows like it's lit from within, and Wyn's thick, chestnut hair drapes around her face, accenting her cheekbones.

And although her curves call to me in a way no human's has before, it's not just her beauty that intrigues me—it's the challenge of getting to crack through her tough exterior.

I've memorized the dark brown of her eyes and how they seem to shine whenever Wyn's excited about a project, but beyond that, her expression remains stoic.

As if she won't allow the world around her to glimpse the hidden depths of her personality.

The first time she breezed into my office, so full of confidence and determination, she barely even blinked.

Maybe she was nervous, but even then, I didn't sense anything but calm from her—and as a boggart, I'm highly in tune with people's sense of fear.

Wyn didn't have a degree, let alone any experience, but her attitude alone is what made me decide to hire her. It was a jackpot move.

With her help, my company has flourished, but no matter how hard I try to get closer to Wyn, she remains guarded.

Like now.

"You're not going to back out, are you, Wyn?"

Playfully, I tease the woman, hoping to make her smile—never have I wanted anything so desperately as to see Wyn's grin again as well as to be the one who put it there.

In the three hundred plus days that she's worked for my company, I've only seen that smile once, when Wyn was talking about her son.

It was intoxicating, that tiny glimpse of her happiness, and every day since, I've tried to recreate that moment to no avail.

All I usually get are half-smirks or fake, saccharin-sweet flashes of her white teeth meant to convey her condescension.

But, of course, Wyn doesn't smile at my good-natured taunt. In fact, her lips do the opposite, curling downward at my words, and I scramble to get a different reaction from her.

Anything but her disappointment.

"Hmm, maybe I was mistaken. Guess I thought you'd love for the chance to prove me wrong."

I push off the conference table, leaning into Wyn's personal space, relishing when she stiffens at my proximity.

Then, as though realizing that she's retreating, Wyn crinkles her adorable nose and squares her shoulders.

"Of course I'm not backing down! I'm going to win this bet and rub it in your face for the rest of your days."

There's my girl.

A flicker of hesitation darkens her eyes, and for a moment, sadness wafts off her, filling my senses.

Internally, I wince at the familiar tang of her distress, like a dish with too much lemon. Wyn always appears so calm and collected, but inside, there's a bleakness she can't always hide.

It makes me want to protect her—to take care of her and to have all that worry disappear, if only for a moment.

This is why I'm always trying to cheer her up, but Wyn never takes it as I intend. She's got these walls up around her that I can't figure out how to get past.

All I want is to know the real her behind them—to relish her happiness because the fleeting nibble I've seen isn't nearly enough.

I blow out a breath, raking a hand through my ephemeral hair, Wyn's gaze follows my movements.

Her eyes narrow, and she gathers up her notebook to leave when I reach out, gently grasping her elbow.

At my touch, sparks prickle across my fingers and up my arm, straight to my chest. Our gazes meet, and for a split second, longing arcs through between us.

Electric.

Potent.

Equal.

Yet, just as quickly as it came, it disappears. Wyn furrows her eyebrows, pulling her arm from my light hold.

"Is there something else you needed, Mr. Ettin?"

I rock back on my heels, curiosity swirling through me even as my body smolders from our brief contact.

As a Boggart, I know that Wyn's attracted to me—but physical attraction isn't all I'm looking for.

Does Wyn feel the spark in her heart when we touch?

"No, I don't need anything else, unless you have more you wish to talk to me about."

Wyn sweeps past me, pulling her body in on itself like I might gobble her up. I won't, but fuck if I don't think about it at the sight of her tight skirt stretching over her delectable ass.

Boggarts feed off emotions. Everyone thinks we're gluttons for fear and terror, but like humans, we enjoy many different flavors.

Mine is happiness. It's sweeter than sugar and a thousand times more addictive. For some reason, Wyn's true contentment draws me in more than anyone else's.

It's like a drug that I'll never get enough of.

I twist so that I block the doorway and her exit. Wyn's irritation fills the space between us, and while I'm desperate for her happiness, even the tart taste of her exasperation is divine.

"So how does tallying up our data, say at the end of the month, sound?"

Wyn glares, lifting her chin. "Fine. I've already decided on the color scheme for the gender neutral bathrooms."

"Oh?"

I can't resist keeping her here in the conference room with me for just a bit longer, to both goad Wyn as well as soak up the fleeting moments we have alone.

Does she acknowledge the magnetism between us—or does she bury it deep, along with her smiles?

Wyn taps her finger against her lower lip, and I can't look away. "Mmm, something that blends masculine and feminine. Something more than just ‘neutral'. I'll send you the paint swatches."

"Good. I can't wait to see them as well as all your brilliant marketing ideas."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, Mr. Ettin."

"Call me Bash—everyone else does."

The look she gives me would make a lesser man wither, but I flash her a grin instead.

"Is that all, Mr. Ettin? I've got a lot to work on today and a bet to win."

I bow my head slightly, finally letting her pass. I have no intention of letting Wyn be the victor of our little wager—I need to feel her lips on mine like I need air to breathe.

"May the best advertising campaign win," I whisper as Wyn departs.

She practically speed walks away, and I force myself not to chase after the woman. Instead, I drink in her alluring scent—jasmine and citrus—and imagine her smiling for me.

With a sigh, I shake my head and turn off the light to the conference room, wondering if it's me.

For centuries, Boggarts were shadows that fed off human suffering. My kind induced nightmares, soaking up the terror and dread from their victims until we become corporeal.

Thank Nudd that's no longer required to remain somatic.

A shudder of revulsion consumes me with the thought, and I march to my office, pushing aside the distaste that fills my mouth.

Only once have I partaken in the encouraged acts of my kind, but the memory—and taste—still linger in the depths of my being, forever tainting me.

When I was younger, I sipped upon the terror from a young woman's bad dream. The guilt that wracked me afterward was nothing compared to the bitter realization of how awful her fear tasted.

It was something that I never wanted to be part of ever again.

All Boggarts are supposed to crave nightmares, and I sometimes wonder what happened to me.

Eons ago, people feared us. Boggarts were only shadows—omens of misfortune—bringers of disaster and misery.

I've never wanted this. The world has enough pain already. Unfortunately, my parents do not understand me—my desire for happiness as well as refusing to drain others of their emotions.

They don't understand my drive to prove to the world—to myself—that I'm something more.

And it's this same drive I see reflected in Wyn whenever she's given a true opportunity to show her true worth.

Wyn thinks no one notices her, but I see everything. I see beyond the walls to the scared woman who struggles as I do.

Back in my office, I pace before the glass window that overlooks Manhattan. The towering buildings cast shadows along the walls, and I smile.

This concrete jungle is my kingdom, and I'm the king of its beasts.

The familiar skyline welcomes me as the traffic buzzes below. High noon or the witching hour, this city never pauses—New York's got its own brand of insomnia.

Off in the distance, the Hudson River glimmers, sunlight dancing across the ripples. The view sparks ideas and sets my mind racing nearly as fast as the cabs whizzing down Broadway.

I fell in love with this crazy city decades ago. It's a playground of dreamers and ambition, built by hungry souls determined to claw their way up from nothing.

But the climb shouldn't just be about reaching the top—it should be pursuing a person's real passion.

Where they bring a splash of heart and creativity to the daily grind in a way that's accessible to everyone.

When it's all said and done, success shouldn't be reserved for those born with silver spoons in their mouths.

I want to build a world where every hungry kid from the streets gets a chance to take their swing at glory.

Steepling my fingers, I ponder Wyn's marketing ideas for our bet. They're good, but mine are better. When I'm done, there's going to be no way she can wiggle out of our deal.

Tragically for her, I have an unfair advantage. Boggarts naturally need very little sleep—if any—compared to humans, and I intend to use this to my benefit.

The thought of Wyn standing here before me with those full, pink lips as I drift closer to finally taste her makes my heart race, and I know that I have to win this bet.

No matter what.