the end, had gone with the advice of the fastest reader in the world, learning from his books. She picked up things fast, she always had. The more time spent, the faster she learned. It was a gift she had, and she used it often, which made it all the more readily available to her.
She’d made certain to touch him. The first time had been a brief brush of their fingers as she handed him a book. Frankly, she hadn’t been certain if he’d made that initial contact or if she had, but she would never forget it as long as she lived. The spark had gone up her finger to every nerve ending in her body, spreading like a wildfire, bringing her to life as if she’d been asleep—or dead—her entire life and it had taken him to wake her up.
She had been dead. She’d chosen to be dead. She’d shoved the woman in her aside out of necessity and become what she had to be. Now she was simply surviving. Until he walked in. She had no idea what to do with him—but she wanted him. She’d sworn she would never—not ever—go there again. Put herself in a situation where the dark things inside of her had a chance to escape. She’d seen the results of that, and yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him … wanting him.
Touching him was dangerous, but she couldn’t seem to resist no matter how hard she tried, and every touch brought something new. She couldn’t get to him, couldn’t uncover him or strip him in layers like she did others, but something connected them so strongly, melding them so tightly together that there was no going back, and she knew it. Every time he was close to her, he melted away that shell of a hardened human being that wasn’t real and, for a moment, she felt alive and genuine—and vulnerable.
Right now he sat in her library, disturbing her beyond all measure. She hadn’t thought it possible. She thought she was stone-cold when it came to the opposite sex, but she lit up around him. On fire. Hot as Hades. She apparently had red hair for a reason, and it wasn’t her temper. Okay, maybe it was that too. She hadn’t made up her mind how she felt about Mr. Aleksei Solokov. That was the name on his library card. She didn’t know if her body coming to life was a good thing or a bad thing. If fantasies were wonderful or a curse. There was a lot to think about, but then she had a lot of time to think.
“Miss Foley?”
She jerked her head up, her breath exploding out of her lungs. No one had managed to sneak up on her in years, and yet just by perving on Aleksei Solokov she had failed the first lesson in survival. She turned slowly, already knowing who was behind her, identifying him by his voice.
“Hi, Tom.” He was sixteen and trying desperately to learn to read at his age level. His English teacher was no help, giving him assignments far beyond his comprehension. It made Scarlet angry that the man couldn’t take the time to help the boy.
“I was hoping you’d come in today. I have plenty of time to help you.” She flashed him a reassuring smile.
The boy’s face flooded with relief. “Thanks, Miss Foley.” She waved him toward the table where they often worked together, and where she was most comfortable. She could see out the windows, but no one could see her or the boy she tutored. She was always careful just in case, so no one could ever harm any of the teens just because of her. She put aside the rest of the evening’s work and settled down to help Tom do his homework. She would have plenty of time to finish her own work before the close of her shift.
The librarian moved, drawing Absinthe’s attention. It was growing late, and she walked the boy she’d been helping with his English paper to the door, reassuring him he was getting better with every paper and she was proud of him. She moved like someone who could handle herself, always balanced, even when she was carrying stacks of books. He’d noticed that about her almost immediately. When you were as fucked up as he was, you always assessed the men and women around you to see who the fighters were. Under that sexy prim-and-proper librarian façade she could handle