Chapter Twenty-Four

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

She knew he was embarrassed about what she had done. Because after she'd managed to see sense enough to actually make the potion, and they had awkwardly taken it, he told her he was going to go check if the spell that kept the Jerks from finding them was working okay.

Even though both of them knew it was. They had seen the trio through the kitchen window an hour after she'd sprayed Forget Me all over, mystified as to why they suddenly couldn't find the house. Even when the house was right in front of them.

So it was obvious this was just an excuse to get away. But she didn't know what to do about it. The only thing that occurred to her was to apologize. Sorry that I really loudly and enthusiastically got off while thinking about you , she imagined herself writing in a card. But where she could buy such a card she had no idea. She felt pretty sure that Hallmark didn't have an "I Didn't Mean to Enjoy the Thought of You Coming on My Tits" line. And even if they did, she couldn't imagine that the gesture would make things better.

Doubly so, when she realized midway through a conversation with Nancy, that something was off. "I just wanted to come over and apologize for the other day," Nancy said, as Cassie ushered her into the kitchen. Then she added, "You know, about all that stuff Marley was saying concerning you and Seth."

And as soon as Cassie heard his name, there it was: a heavy pulse starting up between her legs. Like she had a second heart down there, and those four letters had jolted it back into action. Now it was hammering away again, and there was nothing Cassie could do about it. She just had to sit across from her new friend, trying not to let on that she was aroused over the very man she was trying to say meant nothing to her.

"I was just helping him out with something," Cassie explained, and tried not to let it show on her face that the help in question was letting him jerk off on her front porch. And she felt she did so admirably, too.

Nancy nodded and sipped her tea.

From a mug that had grown hands, which Nancy couldn't see.

It's very strange watching someone who can't register magic , the microwave said over Nancy's shoulder. And Cassie had to agree. Because it was all around her, and Nancy didn't seem aware of a single thing. She couldn't even see Pod—as if the mere idea of a raccoon sipping tea was far too much for reality to withstand.

And that was cool.

But it was also sad, somehow. It was another secret Cassie had to keep, from someone so kind and sweet. When even the first secret was too tough for her to really manage. "I promise, Seth and I are barely even friends," she said, and just as Nancy was giving her a relieved look—like all that mattered to her was that Seth couldn't do her any damage—Seth burst into the kitchen.

And oh god, he couldn't have looked less like her friend if he'd tried.

His chest was heaving, his eyes were flashing, he was for some inexplicable reason windswept. There was a tear in his shirt, big enough that you could see his chest through it. And the first thing he did when he appeared in the archway was gasp her name. As if he'd just stormed off the cover of a romance novel titled Claiming the Woman Who Just Said We Were Only Friends .

And Nancy clearly agreed.

She actually dribbled a bit of tea down her chin.

Cassie handed her a napkin, while trying to tell Seth to calm down with her eyes. If only we could understand all this nonsense as well as we can everything else about each other , she thought, as he looked back and forth between the two women, utterly confused. Though he seemed to get it enough to avoid blurting out that the potion hadn't worked.

Because clearly, obviously, this was the case.

She went from one to eighty million on the horniness scale the moment she laid eyes on him. And he seemed to be in exactly the same state. He had to grab a book from the table and hold it in front of his groin, so Nancy didn't get an eyeful.

While Cassie did her best to come up with a plausible explanation for all of this.

"He's been working on the roof," she found herself saying.

Then almost collapsed with relief when Seth followed her lead.

"Oh yeah, the roof. It needed fixing. So I fixed it. For my friend here," he said. Very convincingly too, Cassie thought. In fact, she could see on Nancy's face that it had worked. She didn't seem skeptical in the least.

But unfortunately, Seth didn't seem to think so.

Because he clearly decided that something else needed to be done. A little extra underlining of the idea that they were just good buds. And so he put his arm around her shoulders. Just lightly. Barely touching her, really. In fact, she wasn't even sure if any contact was made. It felt more like the air between them just sort of brushed her.

But it made no difference.

It still hit her like lightning anyway. She came within a hair's breadth of screaming. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that her teeth seemed to be welded together. And she had no idea how she kept from falling out of her chair. Maybe Seth's hand, squeezing her shoulder?

Though that seemed impossible.

He was in a worst state than she was. She could feel him shuddering all over. He couldn't even speak when Nancy said, "Well, I'd better get going." All he could manage was to hold a hand up in a stunted sort of wave—and even that looked bad.

It shook like someone had started an earthquake inside his body.

And there was nothing they could do about any of it. They just had to ride it out, until Nancy disappeared down the lane back to town. But even after she was gone, there was no real respite. Because now they were in the aftermath of whatever the fuck all that was.

"Oh my god, I think putting an arm around you made me come," Seth blurted out, the second they were in the clear. As if that would really help the situation. Instead of making it insurmountably worse. Now all she could think about was whether it actually had, and what that looked like, and if she could make it happen again.

Just slip your hand around his waist , some devil voice inside her said.

But she fought it. She managed to wrench herself away from him.

"Talk about something else," she gasped, as she stumbled to the other side of the table.

Yet, all he could come up with was this: "You'll be pleased to know that we are perfectly safe, and there's no sign of current danger."

Which was garbage, it was terrible, why on earth would he think she'd be pleased by that? She wanted danger, right now. She wanted to be scared. She even found herself grasping at any hint of it. "But how did you get that torn shirt?" she asked, desperately. "Why were you all breathless when you burst in here?"

Though she knew the answer wasn't going to be good.

She could see it in the frustrated, confused expression he gave her, before he spoke.

"Because I had to stumble here in some kind of frantic, lust-filled stupor. A tree got in my way and my body tried to walk through it. Somewhere around the middle of the woods I lost a shoe, and couldn't make myself go back for it. Seriously, it's no wonder your friend forgot how to drink," he said. Then even worse: "What is going on , Cass? You said that the dragon scale would make the potion work, but it clearly hasn't. It's barely made a dent. I don't know what we're going to do."

But it was fine, it was fine, because as soon as his words came out, the answer popped into her head. The exact and only solution. As if it had been inside her all along—which she kind of suspected it had. She'd been hearing the words "Fulfill the requirements" rattling around in her messy witch brain for days.

She just hadn't let herself face what they meant.

She wasn't even sure if she could face it now.

For one wild second, she actually considered not telling him.

But not telling him wouldn't have worked. He took one look at the maze of terror and excitement and horror and arousal all over her face, and guessed. "Oh god, Cass, if you tell me we actually have to fuck, I might lose my mind. I mean, it was bad enough doing all the things we've done so we don't accidentally end up frantically fucking each other's brains out. And now you're saying we somehow must?" he groaned. And to make matters worse, both Pod and the microwave seemed to agree with him on this. Pod called him a bad beast and tried to attack him with a teacup; the microwave declared that it would explode if they dared do such a thing.

They had to go in the pantry to talk.

Not that either of them really wanted to. The tiny shelved room immediately became seven thousand degrees hotter than it had been, the light in there refused to work, and the only words they had to say to each other were hopeless. Practical, but hopeless. "Okay, look. Don't panic, okay? I'm going to think of a way out of this that doesn't involve me having to take your virginity," she said.

But in response he just looked at her like she'd grown three heads.

"You think virginity is the thing I have a problem with here? Cass, virginity isn't even really a thing. It's just a made-up concept from weirdo ancient times, to better sell child brides to disgusting old perverts," he said.

Rightly, she had to say. Even if it really made no difference in their situation.

"Okay, so call it something else. Like you having to experience something for the very first time with someone you don't love and only find hot because of rampant werewolfism," she pointed out. Yet somehow, he still tried to protest.

"But I do lo—I mean, I do very much feel—I do care very much about you," he stumbled out, face flushing harder and harder as he did, in a way she understood only too well. Clearly he wanted to draw a line between friendship feelings, and romantic feelings. And werewolf sex feelings. "You mean a lot to me, is what I'm saying. So that's not a concern, for me. That would never stop me from being completely willing to do this."

Then just as she was thinking that he had done a pretty good job there, on the this is fine for two friends to do front, he added one last thing on the end. "What would stop me, however, is that you might not be really willing to do this."

And now she was the one who had to step between the bombs. She had to walk the I am willing, even if I am pretty sure it's not something I really want and/or feel romantically tightrope. Even though she was barely sure where she stood on that tightrope herself.

Some of the hot fantasies she'd indulged in over the last few days had just been him, cradling her in his arms. And her, telling him how good that felt. And that didn't seem normal for the aloof practical supernatural doctor she was trying to be. Or even for a person being slowly sex poisoned by magical werewolf nonsense.

But she had to believe it was. She had to push through.

On the other side was freedom. Freedom, from desperately wanting to fuck a friend she really shouldn't want. "Of course I'm willing," she said, and was really proud of how casual she sounded. Because she didn't feel casual.

And Seth replying: "Yeah, but only because you think we have no choice" did not make things any easier. It just made her think of the day before, and the permission question. About how careful he was to only do what she was okay with. How easy that made it all.

And how much hotter, too.

So now she had to somehow agree to this next step in a calm, rational manner. While feeling so suddenly horny and irrational about it that she could've wept. It's okay, it's just werewolf sex nonsense. It's not real, it's just something you both need and are all right with giving to each other , she kept telling herself. And after a good long moment of panic, the pep talk did seem to sink in.

She felt that she knew how to navigate the situation without fucking anything up. "We do have no choice. However, I can still say I am totally okay with doing it anyway. That the idea is not repulsive or horrifying to me. I mean, it might be if it involved doing something gross or arduous with a horrible stranger I hate. But the thing is, none of that is the case. I enjoy doing the kind of things we have to do. And you are a good guy, and I like you. So maybe we should just think of this as you know… casual sex. Or scratching an itch. Or any other kind of fun activity we might do together. Like, say, really weird, intense tennis," she tried.

And thank god, thank god, she could tell it had worked. He didn't seem suspicious that she secretly loved the circumstances they were in. Or secretly loved him. Plus the whole problem did seem more normal when she put it like that.

In fact, she felt more normal, hearing it in those terms.

Doubly so, when he laughed.

"We have never played tennis in our lives ," he said.

Then somehow, she found herself laughing too.

"Okay, then, how about calling it Mario Kart?" she suggested.

"So you're going to start swearing and lobbing shells at my head."

"Actually, I was thinking I would make fun of you when you accidentally get stuck in a corner and can't get out," she said, the memory so clear and so brightly ordinary in her head that she could feel herself relaxing.

Now she just had to make sure he was relaxed too.

Though she could see that she was already well on her way to achieving this.

Because he held up an angry finger. "That happened one time. One," he said, so hilariously that they both broke all over again. He shook his head, half laughing. And she let out a giggle. At which point, she knew they were going to do this. That they could do it, no matter the potentially ruinous consequences.

All that was left was to figure out the terms and conditions.

The ones that made him stop looking at her, before he started laying them out. "Okay, so this is happening," he said. Then after a second of slightly pained consideration, he went ahead. "But before it does, you should probably know some stuff. Stuff you might not like as much as hitting me with squid ink, so I end up driving my Kart into a pit of quicksand. In fact, it's possible you might hate it."

"Why would I hate something that means nothing? That's just fun?"

"Because… I don't know," he said, clearly frustrated. "It's not really like the sort of joyful tennis hookups you're probably having with actual, normal, super-sexy, cool, ideal-man type human beings. It's kind of a lot to deal with."

"I get it, Seth. You have a big one."

"Yeah. And it's really not as fun as porn makes it out to be."

"It'll be fine. You're not going to split me in two."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But even if I don't, there are other things to contend with. Like the fact that I… well." He paused. Swallowed, thickly. Before stumbling on. "I kind of… make a lot of mess. Like, way, way more than you're probably used to. And it won't just be—you know. Kind of getting a little bit on you. It'll be going inside you."

"Yeah, and I'm sure we can find condoms made of concrete to cover that issue."

"Cassie, I don't think condoms are something we're going to be able to use," he said, slowly and patiently. And as soon as he did, she felt everything inside her sink to her socked feet.

Because he was right. Of course he was right. There was no other way it could be—there had to be actual contact for this to work. There couldn't be any barriers between her body and his body and his stuff and her stuff. Though she tried to stay calm about that, on the surface.

"Okay, but like. That's only one small part of it," she said.

"It doesn't seem like a small part of it. It seems like it made your face drop three feet."

"My face is fine. This is just how it looks when I'm trying to think."

"And what exactly are you trying to think of?"

Whether I can do this without going too far or being weird , she thought. But went with something as businesslike as he thought she was.

"Mostly, how to do this without having your giant hairy babies. Or giving each other any sort of STI. Plus, you know. I've never had sex without using one before, with anyone. So it's kind of something I need a second to process."

"That just seems like a reason to not do it."

"I think I can fix the first one with a potion, though. Probably even the second one, too."

"Yeah, but neither of those are what I'm having an issue with. I know you'll solve the first, and the second isn't a thing. My werewolf body could kill the bubonic plague. I once got attacked by a rabid fox and biting me cured it ," he sighed. Then before she could widen her eyes over that revelation, he plunged on to the real issue. "No, it's the third one that makes it worse. I don't want to do something you've never even experienced with a person you actually want to experience it with."

She didn't know why that was his focus, however.

They'd already gone over that in great detail.

"Seth, you just told me virginity doesn't matter."

"That was different."

"Oh, because I'm a woman."

"No. God, no . Because of what you said," he said, clearly stressed by the suggestion. He was pacing now. Agitated. He had to take a few breaths before he explained. "You just told me that you felt it was only okay with you to be someone's first experience of something if they really lo—if they really liked you. And I know you like me more now, but you definitely do not like me that much. Not enjoying some new experience much. Not even as much as I like you."

"And how exactly do you figure that?"

"Because I hurt you. You didn't hurt me."

"I kind of think we might be past that now, bud. As in you are my best friend again past it. Unless you don't think we are, of course. In which case, you know, just pretend I never said that."

She flushed. Got flustered, waved her hands.

Wished she could take back that one word: "best."

Because the thing was, when you claimed that someone was your friend, there were escape clauses in it. You could laugh and say you only meant in a casual way. A sort of way. A way that could apply to a million people. But when you said "best," you meant something more. You meant they were your number one. And that you hoped you were theirs.

And that was a lot.

It was so much that she almost took it back. The take-back was on the tip of her tongue, just ready to go. Then somehow he slipped in, before she could. "To be honest, I was thinking of having it tattooed over my heart," he said, voice all threaded through with laughter.

Like it was nothing at all.

When actually, it was almost too much for her to take.

She looked up and saw him still shaking his head, bemused. And she simply couldn't stop herself. She just shoved a hug right into him, without thinking. Face pressed to his chest, body glued to his, hands all over his back. Every part of her solely focused on showing him what those words had meant to her.

Instead of thinking for a second what this much contact would do. Because a minute ago, she had barely been able to tolerate his arm draped over her shoulder. She was still buzzing from things he had done yesterday, for god's sake.

It was obviously going to be way too much.

But even she wasn't prepared for just how much.

Suddenly, not one of their concerns mattered. The only thing that did was rubbing wherever her hands were touching, over and over. And then trying to get him to rub her right back, until it made him groan desperately.

"We shouldn't," he said.

But he did it anyway.

He slid his hands all over her, from her shoulders to her waist. And then, after a moment's hesitation, all the way down to her ass. Like he had in the wardrobe—only more fervently this time. As if each instance of them touching pushed things a little further, and so now he couldn't be satisfied with just grabbing. He needed to grope, greedily, in a way that left her in no doubt about what he was thinking.

He loves what he's feeling , her mind informed her, firmly.

And it kind of demolished all the Caution Danger Here signs she had up.

Suddenly, she found herself pushing into those big hands, into that hungry touch. And of course the second she did he seemed to go rigid. Every muscle went so taut, they almost quivered with it. Like someone had plucked some weird string inside him. Then a groan broke out of him, and he almost sank into her. He rolled his whole body against hers, all slow and deliciously familiar. Like someone starting to rut, she thought.

And couldn't help rutting back.

She urged herself into the rock of his hips, and pushed her chest into his, and rubbed and rubbed until that was all they were doing. Right there, in the pantry. Both of them barely sensible of anything, except how good it felt.

And of what she wanted to do next.

Fuck me, I want him to fuck me, she thought mindlessly. Then didn't think twice about shoving her jeans down. Or about bending over the flour bags piled behind them, so he could just do it. Oh god, she wanted him to do it. "I want you inside me," she gasped, so certain he was going to that she could almost feel it. His hands on her hips, that big cock pressing against her. Working in, until she did something unhinged, like beg him for more.

So it was a shock, when he stopped.

And went very still and silent, for what felt like an age. She almost looked back at him, to see what was going on. But he silenced those words before they could come, with his own.

"Actually," he said. "I just remembered, I left the gas on."

And then he fled, before she could say what they both knew:

His house didn't have any gas to turn off.