8. Catriona

8

CATRIONA

F elix sets his hand over mine, the gesture affectionate. After several seconds too long, I rip my eyes away from his, my pulse quickly thrumming through my veins. This is a dangerous job, one that will most likely break my heart.

"I'd love to see it," I say to Otis, pulling my arm from Felix's, worried if he keeps touching me, I'll confuse his acting for something real.

And he is a good actor. Too good, most likely.

We follow Otis up the stairs to the apartment above. I don't know why I hold my breath when I step over the threshold, but it happens without my permission.

My eyes sweep over the space, and my heart lodges in my throat. It's…perfect. Sunlight streams through the windows, lighting the little kitchen and the glass jar of wildflowers on the workbench. The drapes over the windows are lace, likely tatted by hand, and look like they've been recently laundered. There's a little table near the windows. Two worn armchairs sit in front of the fireplace, along with a jute rug on the floor. There's also an empty bookcase waiting to be filled.

I move about the space, feeling a strange desire to cry. One door leads to a washroom, the other to the bedroom. I take several steps forward and stare at the bed, realizing there's only one. The apartment is perfect for newlyweds, but not for…

Not for whatever Felix and I are.

I look at him and find him frowning at the bed as well. He doesn't look at me, won't look at me.

"Well, what do you think?" Otis asks. "In a few years, when you decide to have a family, you might think of buying something larger. We can discuss lodging options then. But I think you'll find the space adequately cozy for now."

Too cozy.

Far too cozy.

"Who left the flowers?" I ask, returning to the safety of the kitchen.

"My wife, Hildie. You'll meet her soon, I imagine. She wanted to greet you today, but she's baking a cake for our daughter's birthday. She's turning eleven. Our baby, you know. The youngest. It's too soon—I'm not ready."

I don't know if I should offer condolences or congratulations, so I smile instead. "Tell her thank you for us. I imagine she tidied the place as well?"

There's not a speck of dust in the apartment.

"She dusted, mopped, and washed all the linens—didn't want you showing up to a mess."

"It's much appreciated," Felix says. "I'm sure we'll be very happy here."

"I'll let you get settled." Otis claps his hands together. "If you need anything, Johann next door will gladly direct you. Nice fellow. He and his cousin run the general goods shop—like brothers, they are. I'll be in my office for a few more hours, and then I'll be headed home. If you need me, go across the nearest bridge, up the lane, take a left, and there we are."

"Thank you, Otis." Felix shakes his hand again. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

We walk Otis down the stairs, through the disaster that is our new clock shop, and into the pleasant autumn sunshine. With a wave, he takes off down the street, leaving Felix and I alone in our new home.

Felix waits until he's gone and then turns to me with a knowing smile. "You're panicking."

I step inside. "This isn't my first job."

"It's your first job with me."

I roll my eyes to avoid the subject.

"Have you ever pretended to be married to another hunter before?" he asks, his tone conversational, but it's laced with something I can't pinpoint. Is he jealous?

"No," I answer.

The smile returns to his face. "So, this is new territory for both of us."

"Technically, we're not pretending to be married," I mutter. Then louder, I say, "How long do you think it will take us to straighten up these clocks?"

He groans under his breath, surveying the mess. "A good week, at least."

"Thankfully, we don't need income from the shop to survive."

"My father left us fairly flush, you know," he says casually. "He was an excellent clockmaker and an even better businessman."

"You're too good at this."

Felix's smile becomes a smirk. "Me? You weren't the one who felt genuine butterflies when you smiled up at me and called me Felix Dear."

I feel them now. Turning away from his watchful eyes, I scoff.

"What are we going to do about the sleeping arrangements?" he asks. "I would have expected Benjamin to be more careful and find us an apartment with two rooms."

My chest tightens; the thought of coexisting with Felix in this cozy apartment is almost too much. "I'm sure the floor will be very comfortable."

He chuckles and teases, "Oh, kitten, I would never ask you to sleep on the floor."

"I meant comfortable for you. " I examine a clock, staring at it like my life depends on it. My back is to Felix, but I hear every step he takes as he walks my way.

He stops directly behind me—close enough he could touch me if he wanted to. He doesn't.

"Our matching rings declare we could share the bed."

My stomach clenches, and I close my eyes to compose myself before I say, "Caving already? I knew you'd be first, though I admit, I thought you'd hold out longer than this."

Felix is quiet for a beat, but his voice is full of dark humor when he responds, "It's interesting that your mind flew to more interesting topics, bluebird, when I was merely suggesting we share a mattress."

I swallow, hating this arrangement. Hating it as much as I like it. My greedy heart purrs, so happy to have Felix all to myself. Alone.

Mine.

"Let's share the bed if you think you have the willpower," I find myself saying. "I know I can keep my hands to myself."

"It's settled then." He takes a step back. "I'm going to unpack my clothes. I noticed our trunks arrived. Otis must have lugged them up to the apartment."

"I'll do the same," I say, pretending I'm unaffected by the conversation.

We spend the next hour finding homes for the things I asked Benjamin to send, setting up our house, making it even cozier. Two plates go into the cupboard. Two cups. Two sets of silverware.

"Benjamin didn't think to send a kettle," I sigh, going through the trunks again.

"We should have asked Elizabeth to pack," Felix says from the bedroom. "Did you check the cabinets? Otis's wife might have left one for us."

"I'll check later." I wander into the bedroom, watching him hang his clothes in the wardrobe and feeling a tight knot form in my chest.

Turning from him, I begin to unload my trunk. Lovingly, I spread my weapons on top of the bureau. My pistol with its silver bullets goes first, then my daggers—all three of them. My twin blades and crossbow fit as well, but just barely. Then I add my vampire stakes to the collection, because you never know what you might encounter.

Felix admires them. "Did you pack clothes, or just your armory?"

"You're just jealous because I told you to leave your nunchucks at home."

"I brought them anyway." He walks to his trunk and produces the ridiculous weapon. "But you didn't leave me any room for my collection."

I roll my eyes. "I can't believe you actually brought—what's that?"

Felix produces a beautiful sword from his trunk, the blade sharp, the grip sturdy and finely etched.

He extends it in front of him as if testing its weight—or maybe just saying, " Hello, old friend. I missed you. " More concerning is the fact that he's holding it like he actually knows what to do with it.

"It's a sword, Cat," he answers. "Specifically, a sword forged by a master swordsmith in Galbreah."

"You're going to hurt yourself."

He flashes me an amused look. "I'll be careful. May it live next to your collection? Do you think you can make room for it?"

I nudge my things to the side, disconcerted. And more so when he produces two non-guild-issued revolvers. "And what are those?"

"You know," he laughs, "for the woman who trains our hunters, you seem lacking in weapons knowledge."

"I mean, why do you have them?"

He turns his eyes on me. "They're accessories, of course." He positions a baldric over his chest and sheathes the sword at his side. "It makes me look dashing; don't you think?"

It does. I wish it didn't.

"Do you know what would make you look even more dashing?" I step up to him and look him right in the eye. "If you actually knew how to use them."

He stares down at me, his eyes very blue in the afternoon light filtering in through the windows. "Now that we're alone, you can give me private lessons."

"I was giving you private lessons at the guild." My voice has gone breathy, which is ridiculous.

He takes a step forward. In response, I step back, my lower back bumping against the bureau. Felix smiles, his expression annoyingly smug. I find myself staring at his lips, fixated by their masculine softness and wanting them on mine.

Why must Felix be so handsome? If he were any other hunter, I could keep my head. I'd make them sleep on the floor, and I'd get a good night's rest while doing it, too. I certainly wouldn't let them corner me in this small bedroom.

"Yes, but now we're away from distractions." Felix tilts his head just slightly. "Just you and me. Alone . No interruptions. Imagine the things we could teach each other?"

A knock at the downstairs door is followed by a bright, "Hello!"

Irritation flashes across Felix's face, followed by wry amusement. "We seem to have a visitor, Mrs. Cunningham."

"Mrs. Ward," I correct.

He smirks as he turns away, one eyebrow curved. "Right."

It seems half the village has stopped by this afternoon to introduce themselves. We've met Otis's niece Annika and her mother, Bernice, the seamstress whose shop is directly across the creek.

Arnold, the local woodsman, brought us firewood. Friedrich from the bakery gave us a spiced cake.

Any of these villagers could be our werewolf, but it's too soon to say. Still, I learn their names and watch their mannerisms.

"So, you're not from Braunwin either?" Felix says to Johann, the man from the general goods shop next door. He's handsome, in his early thirties, with broad shoulders, deep brown hair, and dark stubble along his jaw. He glances at me occasionally, his eyes catching on my face before he jerks his gaze away like he knows he shouldn't be looking.

We're on our front porch, enjoying the last of the day's warmth. The air cools rapidly as night approaches.

"I'm from Hellenford," he responds, waving to someone as they pass by on the street. "I moved in to help Werner after…" He looks at me again, frowning this time, and then turns back to Felix. "After his wife passed away."

"That's sad," I say gently. "What happened? Illness?"

He looks like he doesn't want to say—or maybe he just doesn't want to say in front of me. "Just an accident, Mrs. Ward."

"Our condolences," Felix says, genuine empathy in his tone. "So, you've been in Braunwin how long?"

"About six months."

"It seems like a pleasant community," I say, hoping to keep him talking.

Some of the tension leaves the man's face. "It is."

"So, you brought your family here?" Felix settles against the outside wall of our shop. "How did they feel about the move?"

"It's just me. It would have been more difficult to uproot a family."

"I'm sure Werner appreciates you," I say.

He nods, starting toward the steps. "I should let you get settled. It's about time for supper."

"Any suggestions on a place to eat?" Felix asks. "Our kitchen is still bare."

"The tavern has excellent food, but a warning—you'll be swarmed." He smiles warmly. "Everyone is eager to meet you."

Felix chuckles, bidding the man a good evening. When Johann is gone, he turns back to me, and the smile falls from his face. "That's our werewolf."

I roll my eyes. "You can't know that."

"He's a single man who moved in recently. Tell me that's not suspicious."

"You're just jealous because he's so…" I shrug, hoping to annoy him.

He narrows his eyes. "So what ?"

"You know. Big. Strapping." I lift my eyebrows, glad to get back at him for yesterday's barmaid comment. "Handsome."

Felix's laugh is strained as he shakes his head and works his jaw. "I didn't know you went for the warrior type. Tell me, do you have eyes on Atticus, too?"

"Everyone has eyes on Atticus," I tease, speaking of our golden hunter. "He would be devastated if they didn't."

That coaxes a smile from him. "Don't fall for the werewolf, Cat."

"Don't flirt with barmaids, Felix."

"Ah." He crosses his arms. "You were jealous."

"Hardly. I just don't want you to destroy our cover."

He pushes away from the exterior wall, stepping up so close I must tilt my head to look at him. "For the sake of our cover, I will look at you and only you." He then takes my hand, raising it to his lips and brushing a kiss over my skin. "But I expect you to do the same."

"I'm hungry." I pull my hand away, pretending to be unaffected. "Can you attempt to seduce me later?"

"Is that a request?" He begins down the steps. "Then certainly."

I open my mouth but realize I set myself up for that and have no response. Enjoying my silence, Felix chuckles to himself and heads toward the tavern on the south side of the village.