The Dead (The Thaumaturge Series Book 1) by Cal Matthews Page A

Montana. And the views are just to die for.”
    “This one isn't so bad,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me and I smiled, relieved. He smiled back and leaned against me a little, dropping his arm to rest across my shoulders. The casual affection warmed me, and I started to reach for him when he went stiff. His face changed immediately when we came into contact, contorting into something hard and fierce. He twisted, grabbing my shirt with one hand and pulled me close.
    “Leo-” I protested, confused, but he shoved his face into my shirt and huffed, snuffling me like a dog.
    “What is that smell?” he growled in a voice that was not in the least bit human, and took another deep sniff, burying his face in my shirt.
    I pushed him, grabbing the gun with one hand and lifting it out of the way. I leaned back to set it on the carpet. Leo took advantage of my unbalanced position, shoving me flat on my back on my couch. He leaned over me, his face in my shirt.
    “Fucking stop it,” I snapped, but lay still, experienced enough to know that it was best to just wait it out. He trailed his nose up to my shoulder, and then down my arm, taking my hand in his and pressing his nose into my palm, inhaling.
    “What is that?” he asked again, his eyes closed and his lips moving against my hand. The sensation was enough to me squirm with tentative arousal.
    “I don't know,” I replied, snatching my hand back. “Can you be more specific?”
    His eyes snapped back to mine and I was somewhat alarmed to see the gold wolf glow - the telltale sign that the predatory part of him was in control.
    “You smell like magic,” he whispered, and licked his lips, fangs curling out of his mouth. The sight of them always shocked me, and my heart gave a lurch and started to pound. For a second, he wavered, like he was going to strike, and I held up a hand pleadingly.
    “Don't,” I said quietly.
    Clarity gradually returned to his eyes and he blinked a few times. I watched his fangs slide back into his mouth. “Ebron, why do you smell like that?”
    “I met some witches,” I said, because there was no question now as to whether I would tell him. I should have known that he would have smelled Marcus on me. Leo's sense of smell was terrifying at times.
    His eyebrows came together and I felt him relax minutely, settling down against the couch. With my eyes still on him, I sat up but didn't move away, leaving our legs still intertwined. Best not to make any sudden movements.
    “Witches?” he said incredulously. “In Heckerson?”
    “Apparently.”
    “Real witches, too,” he said musingly, giving another discreet sniff in my direction. “Not some of those Goth kids who bug you all time.”
    “How can you tell?”
    “The magic,” he replied. “I can smell it. Smells good.” He seemed to come back to himself again, and run a hand over his eyes. When he looked at me again, he was apologetic. “Sorry, love. I didn't mean to.”
    “It's fine.” I said, though the endearment threw me off. Love?
    “And what did these witches want?” he asked.
    “Herbs. Obviously.”
    Leo ignored that. “Did they say why they were here?”
    “No, they said that they had been in Missoula. At some gathering.” I replayed our conversation in my head, trying to remember any more details. “The Samhain festival, they said.”
    “Hmm. That's interesting.” Leo lifted a hand to his mouth, chewing on his thumbnail. His eyes were fixed on my face, intense and glittering. “Nothing else? Did they say anything to you”
    “No, but...”
    He leaned forward. “But what?”
    “It’s nothing, I just saw one of them again today when I was getting lunch.”
    He looked blank for a second, and then tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “ Again today? When did you meet these witches?”
    “Yesterday,” I admitted. “But I saw them today, too.”
    Leo made a weird snorting exhalation through his nose. “So they’ve taken an interest in you.”
    I thought of