IX . Cinnamon Rolls & Control

Cedar

A urora’s first day attempting to use plant magic on command results in exactly zero progress. She gets more irritable as time drags on and she stares at the garden beds and curses under her breath. Eventually, she calls it a day and goes home.

It bothers me that I can’t do anything to help. Once she leaves the garden, I head to Sable’s cottage and rap my knuckles on the door.

The silver-haired healer yells, “Come in.”

Pushing the door open, I duck my head to step into the small work room. Bottles line one wall on imperfect handmade shelves. Bouquets of dried plants cover the ceiling, many of which I placed there for her.

“Cedar, is everything okay?” Sable says, her small figure framed in the stone arch that leads to the living space of her home.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“So what brings you over to visit me today?” Without waiting for an answer, she disappears. Looking around awkwardly, I decide to perch on a spare stool. When Sable reappears, she hands me a mug of tea.

“What did you put in here?” I ask.

“Nothing you should worry about,” she says with a wry smile.

Closing my eyes, I breathe in the steam wafting off my mug. A lemon scent hits me first. Tentatively, I take a sip. When I look up, Sable is watching me expectantly. It takes two more sips to identify the flavors. “Lemon balm, lavender, and is that passionflower?”

“Very good.” She takes a long drink of her own tea.

“Do you think I look anxious?” I ask, feeling curious.

She clears her throat. “Most males would be in your position.”

“Excuse me?”

“With a supposedly human mate suddenly displaying magic.”

The tea gets caught in my throat and I almost spew some of it out as I cough. “She’s not, what? We aren’t even dating,” I splutter.

“Drink your tea, son.”

I blink at her. Why would she say that? She can’t know that I kissed Aurora. Besides, it can’t go anywhere. Clearly there is no real relationship between us.

Sable ignores me, setting her tea aside and tidying up some of the supplies on her work table.

“I was hoping you would have some guidance on helping Aurora develop some control over using her magic so she can go home.” I emphasize the last words.

Sable snorts and turns to face me with her hands on her hips. “What was happening when she used her magic?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not true.” Her eyes narrow, cutting into me.

I rub the back of my neck, trying to think. “She grew plants when Hazel was in labor. And when she was scared and upset. So those are high emotion times. But she also planted seeds when she was calm and those later grew. And the other time, she was in the shower.”

“Interesting.”

“I don’t see any connection.”

“Interesting,” she repeats.

Blowing out my breath, I stand. “Do you have any other advice?”

“Talk to her.”

“I have been,” I say, trying to keep the frustration out of my tone.

Sable is unbothered. “Unless you want to help me with making more salve, go away. There won’t be room for you in here once my nephew arrives anyways.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I may be one of Sable’s favorites because of the ingredients I grow for her, but I know better than to get on her bad side. She ignores me as I move to the door and close it behind me carefully.

On the walk home, I run over the incidents in my mind.

First, the seeds we planted together. She was calm, maybe happy. It certainly wasn’t a high emotion moment. Perhaps she was excited about being in a new place and seeing her sister, but that can’t compare to the out of control emotions that spurred later magic.

My cabin is empty. I flop down on my bed, feeling dissatisfied. The empty room bothers me. Maybe my mother is right and I should get my own place.

Aurora’s face fills my mind. The way she shook as she ran through the forest after I lost control. That plant growth was from fear. But what happened right before, when she was in the shower? Why was it different from the other showers she’s taken since arriving?

With a sigh, I roll over and bury my face in my pillow. I’ll have to talk with her tomorrow, and maybe together we can untangle this.

I’m up with the sun. It’s my routine, though I would be lying if thoughts of seeing Aurora didn’t motivate me to move faster.

Standing in front of the mirror, I stretch my arm across me and twist, feeling my sore muscles protest. With a measured exhale, I brush my fingers through my unruly hair. What does Aurora see that made her want to kiss me? She’s beautiful and surely has her pick of men wherever she goes.

I’ve never considered myself handsome. I don’t have Onyx’s confidence or charm. Turning my head, I consider the way my olive skin has turned bronze in the sun. It’s nice, I guess. But now isn’t the time to turn vain. With a shrug, I head to the kitchen.

Cinnamon wafts through the air, along with butter and caramelized sugar. “Good morning, sweetheart.” My mother holds up her mug of coffee in greeting. A tray of cinnamon rolls sit on the stovetop.

“Morning. Can I take a couple of these to go?”

“Of course.” She goes back to solving her crossword puzzle while I dig in the cabinet for a to-go container.

Cinnamon rolls clutched in hand, I head toward my garden. When it stands empty, I backtrack to Heath’s cabin. Aurora is my priority today and I see no reason to pretend otherwise.

The front door clicks open and Heath steps out.

“Good morning, Alpha,” I say, dipping my head.

“Cedar, do you need something?”

Keeping my eyes on the ground, I shake my head. “I’m here to see Aurora. I’m helping her with the plant magic situation.”

“Ah, of course. She’s in the kitchen. Go ahead.” He strides past me, leaving me alone in front of his cabin.

With a purposeful deep breath, I scale the steps and knock on the door. It swings open and Aurora stands there. She’s in a baggy shirt that reveals an expanse of collarbone. Bike shorts cover her lean legs leading down to bare feet.

“Cedar!” She tucks her poofy hair behind her ear with an unguarded, sleepy smile and steps back to let me inside.

“I brought you breakfast,” I say, setting the container on the kitchen counter.

Her eyes light up. “What is it?” Without waiting for my answer, she pulls the lid off and lets out a little squeal of delight. I can’t help my smile as she grabs a fork and pulls the cinnamon rolls toward her. When she sits, one knee is propped up, like she’s ready to leap up at any moment.

A soft moan escapes as she takes her first bite. Her eyes close, dark lashes against her cheeks. I stare, unable to help myself.

“Your mom made these, didn’t she? They’re still warm!” She uses the side of her fork to cut another bite. “Is the second one for you or am I super lucky?”

It takes a moment for her words to click in my brain, so she’s staring at me when I finally nod. Her amused smile is worth my mild embarrassment. She leans out of her seat, tugging a drawer open and fishing around until she produces a second fork. “Here.”

“Thanks.” My movements are sluggish as I cut my own bite of the second pastry. I’m utterly distracted by the sleep-mussed Aurora perched beside me. Her smile is lazy, face bare and glowing, icing smudged on her lip.

Without thinking, I reach out and swipe my thumb over her top lip. She freezes, her lips slightly parted. I freeze too, unsure of what to do with the icing on the pad of my thumb. Her gaze heats, her eyes lowering to my mouth and her tongue wetting her lip.

Feeling bold, I bring my thumb to my mouth and suck the icing off. Aurora watches me with blown out pupils, her irises a thin ring of amber. She looks like she might launch out of her seat onto me, and I think I would let her.

The moment stretches, hot and brittle. Finally, I clear my throat and cut myself another bite of our breakfast.

Aurora finishes her cinnamon roll and stands. “I’ll just go get dressed.” She hesitates, watching me. Unsure what to do, I nod.

Aurora chews on the insider of her lip, puckering it, before she makes up her mind and walks past my chair. The soft breeze is full of her scent and I turn my head to follow it.

Her door shuts and I can hear drawers opening and light footsteps as she gets herself ready for the day. When she reappears, she’s in jeans and a cream sweater that offsets her tawny skin and dark hair.

“Want to head to the garden?” I ask, standing.

“What’s the plan?” she asks nervously, her mouth turning down.

I give her my best reassuring smile. “I’m going to help you figure out the magic stuff.”

“Okay.” Her vivacious energy is subdued under the weight of her unpredictable abilities.

As I hold the door open for her, I place my hand on the small of her back. The sweater is soft under my fingers. She leans into my touch. The connection means our walk to the garden is slower. I admire the way the dappled morning light paints her face, highlighting her eyelashes and the curve of her cupid's bow.

She hesitates at the edge of my garden. “So what’s your grand plan exactly?”

Light pressure on her waist guides her through the archway. This time, I know I’m not imagining the way the plants reach for her.

“It seems to me the first step is to try and trigger your magic, so we can determine what causes it to happen. Then you can work backward to isolate and control that factor.”

She turns, hands on her hips. A bit of her fire has returned in her eyes. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

A shrug. “So what were you feeling when it happened last time?”

“In the shower?” she asks, her voice going high.

“Yeah, that seems like the largest amount of magic you’ve created, don’t you think?”

“Nothing happened,” she snaps, her cheeks flushing.

I tilt my head, studying her. “You’re being evasive. If it really was nothing, you wouldn’t act like this.”

Dark hair ripples over her shoulders as she shakes her head adamantly. I should let it go, but something keeps me pushing. “Aurora, you can tell me.”

She drags her hand down her face and goes to sit on the wide edge of a garden bed. “I was thinking about stuff, and I guess I was…” she looks away, her ears turning pink. “Excited.”

“Excited.”

“Oh my gosh, can we just move on?” She presses her lips in a thin line.

“I still think it’s our best example, and it’s worth figuring out,” I mutter, sitting beside her and resting my forearms on my knees, hands loosely folded.

“Cedar!” she scolds. “I was fantasizing. Okay? Happy now?” Hands going to her face, she hides behind her fingers as her cheeks darken further.

“Fantasizing? About what?”

A growling noise of frustration rips out of her. Hands clenched, she turns to me, face flaming. “Someone.”

My brain splutters for a moment. That’s fine. She’s allowed to fantasize about anyone she wants. Taking a slow breath, I try to push away the jealousy unfurling in my gut, but it’s not enough to keep my questions back.

“Who?”

“You! I was thinking about you, you gorgeous idiot.” Delicate hands come up to her face again, hiding her blush as she falls sideways into me. Her shoulder hits my chest, and my arms come up to steady her on instinct.

Me?

“What?”

Aurora

Cedar stares back at me, and I start praying that the ground eats me whole. But considering the weird stuff happening around me, that’s probably unwise. Maybe I should make a run for it. Surely this level of embarrassment will kill me if I stay here and let it.

Before I can decide what to do, Cedar’s hands grab my waist and pull me over. I slide off the bench and onto his lap until I straddle him. One of my hands grips his shoulder and the other tangles in the collar of his shirt.

His stormy eyes meet mine for a second that feels like an eternity. I can’t breathe, can’t think. There’s only the overwhelming draw to him.

Tentatively, he brushes his nose against my cheek until our mouths touch briefly. I seek him, angling my head until I can kiss him properly. His hold on me tightens.

Why were we talking when we could have been doing this?

The rough way he pulled me onto his lap contrasts with the soft, gentle way he kisses me. I melt into him, pressing my hips forward and dragging my hand down his chest.

There’s a solidness to his form that I’ve never experienced before. The boys in Los Angeles build muscle in the gym and they’re meant to look good. Cedar’s body has been earned through hard work and wild runs through the woods.

I can taste cinnamon and sugar as he strokes his tongue against mine. It’s intoxicating. His thumbs brush the bottom of my breasts and I let out an embarrassing whimper. It’s all I can do to grab his hand, slide it under my shirt, and hope he gets the message. He does.

We break apart, and I gasp for air to calm my racing heart while he whispers praise against my skin. My back arches at the reverent feel of his hands, his lips tracing my jaw and working down my throat. Only my grip on his shoulders keeps me from floating away.

Every caress sends tingles racing through my veins, burning pleasure warming my core, stars behind my eyes.

Cedar lets out a startled yelp and something brushes my hand. Blinking past the sunlight, I spy stems of greenery wrapping around his elbows and waist, moving across my hands, curling around us.

Getting upset will only make it worse. He must realize that too, because he whispers, “It’s okay. Not a big deal.” A soft kiss to my cheek softens my shock.

Realizing what I have to do, I plaster on a cheerful smile and wink at him. “Totally. Let me just chill out and figure out how to undo this. Or you can use those big muscles to bust out of it.”

“I don’t want to hurt my plants,” he says with a pouty frown.

“Of course you don’t.” I exhale in a dry laugh and rest my forehead against his, closing my eyes. “Hold on, let me chill.”

Calming down is no easy task. Cedar’s hands are still under my shirt, and he moves to cup my breast and run his calloused thumbs over my nipple. It makes me squirm.

“This would be easier if you weren’t touching me.”

“Then maybe get off my lap,” he says with a chuckle. “Or we can stay right here and get pulled into the garden bed.”

Rolling my eyes, I push off his lap and stand. Anxiety surges at the loss of his touch, especially when I see the greenery threading around his waist and up his chest. It’s getting worse.

With a deep breath, I turn away and start pacing back and forth, trying to work out my nervous energy. As I chew my bottom lip, I think about what I want the plant to do - recede, go back into its designated space, release my boyfriend.

Boyfriend? That was an odd thought. The vines grow visibly, and I have to shake out my hands and slow my breathing.

Focus.

The vines are going to return to their original state. Or at least release Cedar. They can grow all over their garden bed if they just let him go. My feet halt in front of him, and I reach out and grab his shoulder to brace myself as I lean over him and concentrate.

His hand comes up to cover mine. A calmness soaks into me, soothing my churning thoughts.

When my eyes open, the plant is unfurling and loosening. With a smile that shows off his dimples, Cedar gently moves the plant off his body and into its assigned space.

“I did it!” I can’t help squeaking and jumping on the balls of my feet.

He stands and scoops me up, spinning me in a circle. A joyous laugh escapes my throat, and I throw my head back and let my hair ruffle in the breeze.

When we stop, he sets my feet on the ground and cups my jaw. “You did amazing.” The brief but firm kiss he plants on my mouth makes my toes curl.

“I think I can control what it does, but I’m not sure about how to… I don't know, activate it?”

“Hmm, I have a few ideas.” Cedar takes my hand and threads our fingers together. “Here, I’ve got some grape vines that have been pretty sickly and slow growing the last couple of seasons. Do you want to see if you can do anything with them?”

“I’m like your secret weapon or something, aren’t I?” I say, grinning at him.

Cedar raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t a secret or a weapon.”

“It’s sweet when you put it like that,” I say, wrapping my other hand around his bicep and pressing my face into his shoulder.

“Come on, my little green witch,” he says, tugging me forward. The moniker doesn’t make me cringe like I expect. It feels good. Affectionate.

We pass the chicken coop with the hens clucking ominously. Berry bushes and a fence of grape vines line the back section of the garden.

“Here, these ones.” He stops us beside some scraggly looking vines. “It’s still early, but they should be budding. Especially with how warm it’s been. They shouldn’t still be dormant.”

“Maybe they just need a little encouragement!” I walk the length of the fence, inspecting the sad looking vines. Compared with the rest of the garden, they look ancient and dry.

“Okay, let’s do some growing,” I say, trying to call on the feeling from earlier.

Nothing happens.

Cedar comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist until my back is pressed to his front. “Try again.”

My eyes flutter closed and I focus, trying to feel any sort of life force in the vines. Still nothing. I narrow my eyes, trying to see any signs of new growth. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can.”

Instead of reassuring me, Cedar lowers his head and nibbles on my earlobe. I can't help but tip my head and groan at the sensation. His hold around my middle tightens and I lean my weight against him.

The grape vines quiver and small buds break out over the length of the vines. Cedar releases me and I sag momentarily without his support. The growth on the vines halts.

“I’m sorry, I have to de-bud them real quick,” he says with an apologetic half-smile. Before I can question him, he squats and begins cutting those new shoots off the lower part of the vines. It only takes a few minutes. I watch, fascinated. “It’s so we can train the new growth,” he finally explains while moving to the next vines.

“Resume?” I ask when he straightens. He nods and steps closer. I grab his collar and yank him to me. Our mouths crash, lips sliding together, his tongue in my mouth. He squeezes my waist, walking me backward until I hit the wall of his storage shed. With a firm hold, he presses me against it and one of my legs come up, hiking over his hip. His hand goes to my ass, grabbing in a way that makes my eyes roll back in my head. The growl rolling from his chest is decidedly not human, and my eyes shoot open.

Glowing dusty blue eyes stare into mine with such intensity, I forget to breathe. He pants, revealing slightly elongated canines. Have mercy on me.

Self-consciousness shutters his expression and his eyes flick away. Unwilling to miss a second of him, I grab for his jaw, pulling his face back toward mine. “I want to see you,” I say, breathy.

His expression relaxes, a smile revealing those dimples. I give into the impulse and lean forward to kiss the edge of his mouth and then lick a dimple. He lets out a throaty laugh.

“I wasn’t hiding my eyes. I was checking on the grape vines. And I think we should probably stop.” He eases back and my leg falls. I want to protest, but he leans in and murmurs, “For now.” Goosebumps break out over my arms.

The grape vines are massive, curling over the fence and draping down the other side. The new leaves are the size of my open hand.

“You did amazing.”

“But there isn’t any fruit!”

“We shouldn’t have a harvest until July at the earliest. You’ve already made them look like it’s June or even early July. We can wait for the fruit. I’m sure it won’t take that long.” He squeezes my hand. “Look at the other berry bushes.”

“Oh!” My mouth hangs open as I walk between the various sprawling berry bushes. They’ve doubled in size and are covered with blueberries and blackberries.

“Don’t worry about the raspberries, they aren’t in season yet, But we can harvest some blueberries now if you like.” Cedar’s hand brushing down my back sends shivers through me.

“You’d better be careful or we will make this entire garden grow out of control,” I joke.

He frowns and withdraws his hand. “I suppose you’d better get a handle on this quickly then. Otherwise, I’m not sure we can continue.”

If that isn’t good motivation, I don’t know what is. I press my lips together to suppress a laugh. It doesn’t work. A ridiculous cackle escapes me, until I’m doubled over laughing. Cedar’s hand rubs up and down my back, even as he laughs too. Trying to regain my composure, I reach for him and use him for support as another round of laughter captures me.

“I appreciate the extra growth, but it really will cause problems if you don’t figure out how to stop it from happening,” Cedar finally says.

“I know, babe.” Going on my tip-toes, I kiss his cheek and then walk away. I’ll need a little distance before I can keep working on my magic.

Cedar harvests blueberries while I sit against the storage shed and admire the way his triceps flex as he reaches for the berries. He’s wearing gloves, but I still have a wonderful view of those arms.

Taking those feelings, I hold my hand over the patch of grass beside me and urge it to grow. After a few seconds of concentrating, it sprouts up. When I release my mental hold, it stops.

“Cedar!” I jump up, waving my hands. “I got it to start and stop!”

He sets his basket aside and jogs over. I close my eyes to concentrate and produce the same results again.

“Well done! What were you doing to trigger it?”

“Admiring you,” I say. “So I’m thinking it’s arousal?”

Cedar shakes his head, his caramel hair flopping over his forehead. “I don’t think so. What about when Hazel was having Timber? Or the other day in my house?”

“Oh, you’re right.” I click my nails together, thinking.

With a sharp inhale, Cedar turns to me. “It’s not arousal. It’s affection. Any strong emotion would do it, I think. But affection is the common thread in those situations.”

“It happened when I was scared too. So yeah, any emotion. But those positive feelings like watching you hold Timber, that must have done it earlier.”

“Me holding Timber?” he asks, tilting his head in that adorable way he does.

I can’t stop my smile. “I liked seeing you holding a baby. It was pretty attractive.”

“Really?” he asks, his tone going dark. With a sheepish smile, he lurches forward to crawl over me. My eyes close as he nuzzles into my neck and kisses down my throat.

“Remember, I don’t have good control yet. We might make the entire garden overgrow so badly you’ll be pruning for the rest of the month,” I say, pausing to moan as his teeth scrape over delicate skin.

“Fine,” he grumbles, backing up until he sits beside me and leans his head back against the wall. My gaze tracks the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

“I think I’ll have control soon,” I say, trying to encourage him.

He sighs. “And then you can go home.” The thought pierces me like a physical pain and I flinch. Home, not here. Back to the city.

“Oh, yeah.” I turn away from him and rest my head back too, mirroring his post. “Would you come visit me in Los Angeles?”

His answer is slow. “No.” My heart sinks. “I don’t think I could come see you and then leave you there.”

My throat burns and I have to take a few measured breaths to relax. “I guess I can understand that.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching over until our fingers thread together, palms still pressed to the lush patch of grass that I grew using magic born of my affection for him.

“Before I go home, could you do me a favor?” I ask, so quiet my voice barely catches.

There’s no hesitation this time. “Yes.”

“Can I paint you as a wolf?”