~

 

“With? Interesting choice of words…” Nathaniel tipped his head to one side and considered it.

“Don’t start with me … not now. Not with that…” She tipped her chin down towards her chest and narrowed her eyes…

“Thing?” He offered and she screwed up her face.

“Thing in a box in my shop…” she finished.

“Instead of out running the land?” He teased and she gave him a death glare. “Do we know the owner?” He asked, turning and reaching into the box.

Morgana shivered as he lifted the bag containing a wolf’s front paw in the air and inspected it. It had been cut just below the joint…

“Not funny…” she ground out.

“Well, not for the shifter…” he said tossing it back into the box.

“Nathaniel…” She bit out between clenched teeth, and he cleared his throat.

“Fine. But, I somehow don’t think the owner is going to come and claim it, Morgana…”

“Seriously?” She shot back, offering him another death glare. “It was sent to me, Nathaniel…”

“I can see that…”

“Why would someone send me a shifter wolf’s front paw?” She bit out.

“A sign of affection…”

“Can you be serious…?”

“Probably not,” he admitted. “I know – I know – I don’t have a leg to stand on…”

“Nathaniel…” She sighed.

“Ok, I’m more or less done. I’m not sure how this is my fault…”

“I never said it was your fault…”

“It was implied with the whole – this is why I don’t relish working with you – jibe.”

“I’m in no mood for your…”

“What’s in the other box?” He pointed … and she shrugged.

“You really think I was going to open that considering what was in the first one?” She demanded.

“Good point,” Nathaniel flicked out just one claw on his index finger and sliced through the tape holding the flaps together…

“Handy…” she sneered.

“No pun intended?” He offered with a smirk and she sighed again. “Someone is having a sense of humour crisis today…” he grumbled.

“Gee, I’m sorry, I tend get that way when someone sends me a foot in the mail…”

“Paw…”

“Whatever. There’s still someone out there without an appendage when they shift back…” She was getting to the shrill point again.

“I don’t think so…” He offered back…

“Oh, Goddess, tell me that’s not his head…”

“He?”

“It’s … head.” She corrected herself.

“No.” He reached in and circled his hand around the bagged contents, and she pulled her head back on her neck and screwed up her face.

The urge to look away was overridden by that car crash mentality. To her eternal shame her curiosity was tweaked…

“Oh thank God!” She breathed out at the sight of the large knife that sported a jagged blade. He twisted it in his hand and the light reflected off the bloodied blade…

“I thought witches couldn’t say that name without being stuck dumb…” he teased.

“And I thought vampires were supposed to froth at the mouth when they ingested Holy water and garlic, but you did just fine when I spiked your food with it.” She shot back. She hadn’t, but she could have. Especially with how she was feeling at that moment.

“And you’re still blaming me for this…?”

Nathaniel knew her moods. He should have been able to decipher them easily enough, he’d been studying them for long enough in an effort to get to know her better.

“I don’t like you that makes you an easy target right now.” She lied. She didn’t not like him…

“How like a …”

“If you say witch – so help me…”

“If you say God, so help me I will run out of this shop screaming…” he offered back with a smirk and she snorted her contempt for him. “Female. I was going to say … female.”

“Just as bad you male chauvinist pig…” she grumbled.

“Thank you,” he grinned and she rolled her eyes away from him.

“So, why would someone send you a dead leg…?”

“Nathaniel…” she groaned.

“Just a turn of phrase, and the knife that did the deed?” He eyed her for a long moment, and she waited for more … when he said nothing; she frowned and her eyes darted around the room, but always back to him.

“Why are you asking me?” She said, defensively.

“This is your shop…”

“You don’t say…”

“Your name on the boxes…” he offered back accusingly.

“It’s not mine!” She rallied in disbelief.

“Obviously … I see you more as a cat than a wolf.”

“I’m warning you,” she tossed back at him, unamused.

“Are you going to spank me or just put me on the naughty step again?” He grinned once more and she took a long breath in and closed her eyes for a moment.

When she opened her eyes again – there he was – right in front of her with the counter between them. She blinked in surprise and bit down on a curse or two – a couple of hexes shot into her mind, but she held her annoyance inside and didn’t even zap him.

“Can you not?” She bit out.

“Vampires vamp…” he offered back with a shrug off his broad shoulders.

“I really hate you sometimes.” She grumbled, turning away from him on the stool and eyeing the boxes with a grimace – she figured that he was the lesser of the two evil and turned back towards him again.

“Hate is a strong word…”

“But the most accurate in this situation between us…”

“There’s an us?” he teased. Those chocolate brown eyes of his were backlit by his humour.

“Get over yourself…” she bit out, pouting just a little.

“Don’t pout, you’re already developing a little wrinkle at the side of your mouth…”

Her hand shot up to her mouth and she frowned.

“Vanity…” he berated her on a small shake of his head.

“Says the vampire.”

“I take it you don’t want to keep the little trinket…?” he motioned with his head towards the boxes.

“Trinket?” She frowned and two little ridges appeared between her eyebrows. He found them kind of cute.

“Well, someone went to the hassle of catching that wolf and…”

“Don’t say and…” she shook her head.

“What wrong with and?”

“It’s the bit afterwards that I don’t want to hear.”

“Ah, the graphic description of how they sawed through…”

“Nathaniel, so help me I will zap you until your fangs drop out…” She warned.

“I never thought of you as squeamish, being a witch and all.”

“What does that mean?”

“Blood – you use it in your rituals, have to prick your finger…”

“There’s a big difference between a little prick and cutting off…” she stopped and eyed him for a long moment. “You should know all about little pricks…” she offered with a small smirk.

“Luckily no – but I see your warped sense of humour is returning.”

“Warped,” she snorted her contempt for him again. “Says the vampire.”

“We get a bad rep. I’m really a…”

“Little prick…” she rolled her eyes and bit on her inner cheek. “All fangs and no trousers…”

  One side of Nathaniel’s lips climbed upwards. He leant his arm on the counter and leaned in towards her…

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He asked, and for a long moment she stared back into his eyes, momentarily lost…

Then she reached up and slapped her palm against his face, pushing him backwards until he finally gave up and allowed her to push him away.

“In your dreams, vampire.”

“Oh, you are, witch.” He offered back.

Nathaniel was more than satisfied that she wasn’t in shock. Her humour had returned, albeit stunted, and she was trying not to smile at him – which was a good sign.

He stalked into the back of the shop and gathered up both boxes before he headed towards the back door. He’d put them in the boot of his car just so that she didn’t have to look at them…

“Gotta run … unlike the poor beast this came from…” he offered back over his shoulder, not turning around to see the accusing and rather berating look that she was sure to be offering him.