In less than two hours we had somehow turned Vincent's precious office upside-down and into a disastrous train wreck. There were papers scattered all over his desk. Not as organized as they'd usually been, which I was sure was the cause of Vincent's cringing. Most of the books from the shelves had been tossed around on the floor in mini piles, of no use to us. The mess wasn't the worst part though. Three spell books in, and we still hadn't found any of them useful.

"How many Goddamn books does he have in here?" Vincent groaned and threw yet another useless spell book to the side. He plopped down in the chair behind his desk, massaging his temples with one hand. I sighed and took a seat on the edge of his desk beside him.

"Well, that makes four. . ." Apparently, there should have been five spell books in total. For some reason though, the fifth one was the hardest to find. There were a lot of interesting things in the first four books. Part of me couldn't believe I was looking through spell books. After all, it took a while for me to accept that shifters were real. Now, I needed to accept that magic was real? It was absolutely fucking bonkers. My reality was literally shape-shifting before my eyes.

Regardless, if the first four books didn't have what we were looking for, then the last one must have had it. And by the looks of it, we were fucked. Because without that book, there was no learning about those spells or performing them again. As if he could sense my negative thoughts, Vincent looked up at me with narrowed eyes.

"Is Amaury sure he didn't misplace the last book?" he asked.

"He says he didn't and I can't get in contact with him right now," I said.

"That's just great." Vincent slouched in a way I'd never seen him before. His eyes were shut, his hands folded on his lap as he tilted his head back towards the ceiling.

I chimed in, "If it wasn't Amaury who misplaced it, could someone else have?"

One of his eyes opened. "What? Like someone beside me?"

"Maybe?" I shrugged.

"But that would mean someone touched something they weren't supposed to. . ."

"And stole it," I finished his sentence, frowning, "has anyone been in here recently?"

"Not without permission . . . that I know of." Vincent gritted his teeth and forced his fingers through his curls. "Few people come in and out of here. Most of the time they're here when I'm in the room. I can't imagine anyone could have grabbed that book without me knowing. . ."

"So if someone did take it, they would have had to do it while you were gone. Whether you gave them permission to access your office or not. . ." The revelation shot chills from my head to my toes until my nerves were in a bundle of anguish. I didn't like the idea that someone could've been roaming the house while I was here—if someone were sneaking around.

"But that's. . ." Ridiculous, I'd imagined he was going to say. Or perhaps, something else along those lines. It was indeed ridiculous. But not impossible.

"Okay. . . I guess we can call it a day for now. It'll be pretty late soon." Vincent sat up straight and leaned forward, laying his elbows on his desk. Both of his eyes were closed again as he inhaled a deep breath of air, then rested his chin on his hands.

I occupied myself with the nearest book. Nothing interesting was in it. But it refrained me from saying something stupid and embarrassing myself. It'd only been three days. So, I didn't know why the hell I was acting like Vincent and I had been separated for three years. I could last another night alone with him. He wasn't going to run away from me again. Well, I'd hoped.

"You're awfully quiet," Vincent hummed.

"Huh? Me?" I laughed and turned the page in the non-interesting book. "No, I'm not." I may have been able to stuff my face in the book but that surely wasn't going to stop Vincent from burning a hole in the side of my head. I could feel him staring. A bit too concentrated. I refused to give him the satisfaction of catching me in the act though.

"Sure, if you say so." He'd probably rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well um, hey!" I slammed the book shut and let it fall to his desk with a loud bang, startling him. "Do you need help cleaning this mess up? I'll help you."

"You don't have to—" he started.

"No, no! I insist," I cut him off, jumping to my feet. He eyed me wearily over his hands, lifting his eyebrows up in the process.

As I bent down in the corner next to his desk, picking up the first pile of books, I thought he'd move to a different section to start. Needless to say, I was star-struck when he bent down right beside me, stacking some of the books in his hands. For someone who was just avoiding me for three days, he sure had no problem squatting next to me. It was a little unnerving just how close he was. Was it his scent driving me crazy again? Was it his behavior? Fuck, I couldn't think.

I sighed and turned to him. "Vincent. . ."

"Hm?" He made no move to look at me.

"Are we. . . Are we going to finish talking about what happened between us?"

"You're still on that?" he muttered, his movements slowing to a halt.

I laughed despite how nervous I was. "You should know me better than that. . ."

"I suppose you're right. Fine. Let's talk then." Still no eye contact.

"Look at me," I commanded, then softened my tone, "please?" He was frozen still, gripping the books with nearly all his strength. I whispered, "There's something you're not telling me." That seemed to have garnered a reaction out of him. Slowly, he settled down on one knee. I noticed him placing the books at his side before turning to me.

"Vincent?" A frown formed in the dip of my eyebrows.

"I just. . . Dammit Genesis, I wasn't kidding when I said I can't think straight with you hanging around," he growled, more to himself. Just like the night of his birthday, his eyes were on my lips. This time though, I didn't say anything to disrupt him.

"And why is that?" If his hearing wasn't up to par, I was sure he wouldn't have heard me.

He snorted. "I could give you a million reasons."

"Start with one." When he didn't answer, I licked my lips and leaned in closer. "Because I can think of a few too. To me, it sounds like I make you just as nervous as you sometimes make me."

"Nervous? Only in that fantasy land of yours," he mumbled.

"Keep that denial up and we'll both be living in a fantasy land." I grinned. He laughed. It was small but it was a laugh nonetheless. The next few moments were silent between us. As I waited for his next move, I pressed my hand to his jaw and he let me, surprisingly. He was doing that thing again—where he wanted to lean into my touch but was fighting with himself. Or his wolf.

After another deep sigh, he grabbed my wrist to stop it from moving and focused on me. What I thought was a glare, but was really a concentrated stare, made me want to shrink away from him. Not that I thought he wanted to harm me. It was quite the opposite, actually.

"Ah fucking hell," he hissed and closed the distance between us, not before pausing for my permission, then sealing the deal with his mouth.

The minute I'd felt his lips on mine, my mind crashed. But my body still knew to react. I moved my lips in sync with his, basking in the tingly feeling spreading through my abdomen. He raised his hand to my cheek. It was warm, soothing me in ways I didn't think were possible.

All in the next few seconds, we'd gone from a crouched position to me hovering over him while he lowered himself safely to the floor in a seated position. I crawled in between his legs, nudging them further open with my thigh so that I could fit. There were one too many thoughts intruding my head: Am I doing this right? What if he doesn't like it? Does my breath smell bad?

But when I felt Vincent's hand trembling and heard his shaky breathing, I knew I hadn't been the only one nervous. Either that or he was incredibly turned on. And judging by the slight bulge in his pants that greeted me when I pressed my chest to his, I'd bet it was the ladder. That should have been my sign that we needed to stop. However, as our bodies fused together, and I felt his other hand inching closer to the skin under my left breast, stopping was the least of my worries.

A soft groan rumbled from his chest when I tugged at his curls. A cloud of lust hazed my brain when his lips caressed the skin under my jaw. I shivered at the wetness from the tip of his tongue. It darted out when he licked his lips. My eyelids fluttered, my throat having gone dry. His shoulders were my anchorage to keep myself steady.

"G-Genesis. . ." he rasped, pulling back.

"Hm?" I panted and hoped it didn't sound like a moan.

"We need to. . . I need to. . . I-I can't. . ." He squeezed my hips with both hands as his face morphed into something painful. I realized what he meant when I felt my thighs brushing against him. Dangerously close to his lower half.

"S-sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean to. . ." I squealed, crawling back.

"Hey, it's okay," he sat up, repeating in a low voice, "it's okay."

Well, this was fucking awkward. I folded my legs and wrung my hands together. He took a minute to collect himself, struggling to fix his jeans around his waist. I almost thought I saw a blush on his cheeks. The floor was the only thing I could stare at. If I looked at his face again, I feared he'd see the embarrassment sinking into my own.

"I'm sorry. . . If that went any further, I, or well you. . . Shit," he swore under his breath.

"What? Tell me."

"That might've ended badly," he stated, bluntly.

"Oh," I mouthed.

"Ah shit. Not like that," he quickly added, having noticed my glum expression. "It has nothing to do with you, okay Genesis? I-I enjoyed it. I actually enjoyed it a lot if you couldn't tell. Um, did you. . . T-that wasn't . . . bad, was it?" he grimaced as if that hurt to ask.

"Bad?" I repeated, frowning.

"Yeah, you know. . ."

"The kiss?" My eyes widened when I realized what he meant. "That was your first kiss too?"

"Do you have to say it like that?" he murmured through his clenched jaw. If it were any other time, I'd have bickered with him. I didn't though. No, I couldn't. Not when he looked so damn nervous in front of me. The slightest touch would cause him to split in two. He laughed. Nothing humorous about it. "I've been trying so hard to suppress it. . ."

"Suppress what?" I laid my hand on top of his, rubbing circles with my thumb. It was by nature at this point, and there was no room for me to complain. His eyes met mine.

"The mating bond," he said.

"M-mating bond? You mean—?"

"That we're meant to be mated? Yes." He sighed.

"How," I paused, sucking in a deep breath, "how long did you know?"

He was quiet for several more seconds; gnawing at his bottom lip, and twisting the string of his boots with one hand while he flexed the other. As I watched him, all I could think about was Mariah and Amaury. They knew. I had a strange feeling that they did. That'd probably been what they were questioning me about. Especially Mariah during the last time we talked.

"I knew for a while now," he admitted. "At first, I wasn't sure. I waited a couple of weeks after we moved you into Calamitous. The bond was there. But it wasn't strong. Then, you just had to be sweet. Sassy. Funny. And thoughtful. And the bond grew stronger.

"But I knew for sure we were meant to be mated when we met your mom in the café that day. I-I . . . I couldn't accept that though. Not until I was sure you were innocent. I hated, no despised, the moon goddess for mating me to someone who could have killed my brother."

"Which is why you've been pulling away," I said, frowning. He nodded slowly. "Then, I guess I should ask, are you going to keep pulling away?"

He let out another non-humorous laugh. "I don't think I can even if I wanted to. . ."

The sincerity in his words was enough for me to thread our fingers together. Thankfully, he followed my movements. The last thing I said to him, after lifting our joined hands in front of his face was, "I won't either then. . . It was my first kiss too, by the way."

The snort from his lips and the boyish grin on his face, that I'd grown to enjoy seeing a lot lately, made all of this ten times better.