Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

tattoo?
    Like everyone else, Charlie had always imagined scribes to be hags or old men, not sexy, gay bar owners. Scribes were the record keepers, usually the kid in the witch family with the least magic but sometimes just ordinary humans. And this ordinary human scribe happened to be in possession of a grimoire which could get him killed. If the Cause ever learned it still existed or that it held a summoning spell to find the prophesied kid, Luke would be in serious shit. A protection tattoo could only do so much.
    No wonder he'd been felt such a powerful premonition about Luke.
    The man needed his protection.
    For some reason, Charlie's cynical mind-your-own-business motto had flown out the window the moment he set eyes on the big guy. Why he cared so damn much he didn't know, but he needed to make Luke see reason. The idea of Margo or those other wolves learning about the grimoire, maybe hurting him… no!
    He could never let that happen.
    "You have no idea what you got yourself into, do you?"
    "I've been in possession of these books for over ten years," Luke replied. "Betty died for them. I know the risks."
    "Does anyone know about the grimoire?"
    Luke shrugged those mountainous hairy shoulders, nearly distracting Charlie. "No one but you. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I collect old books."
    "That's not good enough," he chastised, real fear for the scribe making him anxious. "You need to burn the grimoire."
    A wide grin cut through Luke's face, making him more handsome than before. "That's what Betty told me you would say."
    "What?"
    Smiling, lost to an old memory, Luke's gaze roamed over his book collection. "And you didn't think you were very powerful old gal, did ya?" he whispered.
    Charlie bristled with impatience. "Well are you gonna elaborate on that or just leave me hanging?"
    Luke cocked a brow. "One of the last things Betty told me was that one day I would meet a nightwalker. He would save my life and tell me to burn the grimoire."
    "Lucky guess," he scoffed. Charlie hated witches and their pretending to know shit before everyone else. Especially when they were right.
    "She said you would argue with me but I was supposed to stand my ground and tell you I had to protect the grimoire. She told me that the nightwalker would become my sire."
    Shock kicked Charlie's attitude to the curb.
    The words 'sire bond' had played through his mind since they first met, dancing in the back of his thoughts. Now Luke kept mentioning it, making Charlie's desire for to form a bond with Luke even stronger. Sure, he missed having a colony, but bonding with a human? A total stranger? Had he lost his marbles?
    His mouth gaped a few times before he sputtered, "T-there's no way, no…."
    "Isn't there?"
    He could come up with no reply for that because Charlie had never felt as comfortable with his fellow nightwalkers as he did standing in this room with Luke. Already filled with the protective urges a sire bond produced, he could feel Luke in his veins, in his bones. In his soul . The desire to bond with Luke was so powerful he could hardly escape it.
    Could it be true? Had some old witch seen them together, bonded ? It would explain why he came to the bar. He hated annoying drunken humans, laughing and carrying on. Yet he had lingered just long enough to have a run-in with the wolves, causing Luke to need healing. A small pocket of terror gripped him when he realized one little alteration in his day could've caused him to miss Luke. But when he glanced up at Luke's kind face, relief washed over him, a balm for his spirit.
    Maybe this had been destined.
    Luke ran a hand along his arm, sending shivers to his cock. "You feel it, don't you?"
    "Maybe…"
    A species designed to bond with humans, in flesh and in blood, Charlie never thought he wanted to sire a bond with a man he would have to protect, feed from, and live with as a unit. Plenty of his kind did it, though, just like shifters formed their own connections to witches. But not Charlie. He prided himself on his independence and didn't like the idea of Fate dealing out the hand he should play.
    Yet, a need for this human consumed his very being, more than a hunger for blood ever had.
    Moving closer, Luke's heat and the tempting call of his pounding blood swamped Charlie. He couldn't think clearly anymore. His fangs stretched and he tried to breathe normal though it sounded like a pant, even to him. The hunger was already altering his vision, no doubt his eyes