“Would it be better if I was a human?” He rolled his eyes. “This will work out some of that aggression. And you can prove to me that you can stand up to Cyrus. It’s a win-win situation. Besides, right now, I’d really like to kick your ass.”

“Kick my—” My mouth dropped open as I sputtered in resentment. “Oh, I’m going to put the hurt on you so bad!”

I charged him with no specific plan of attack. My shoulder collided with his midsection. He tumbled backward, and I fell to the floor on top of him. We upended the table on the way down, tarot cards fluttering around us as we struggled.

My flying hair and our flailing limbs obscured my vision. I swung at him blindly. Pain reverberated down my arm as my fist connected with his jaw.

Nathan pinned one arm behind me and rolled me onto my back. The hard floorboards bit into my knuckles, and I arched my back to relieve the pressure. Unfortunately, this motion pushed my breasts against his chest, and it was more than a little arousing.

I used my free hand to yank his hair, pulling as hard as I could. He grabbed my wrist, squeezing brutally, and I released my grip. He forced my arm above my head and held it to the floor.

The anger between us dissipated, abandoning us with only the raw, primal sound of our heavy breathing. I stopped struggling the same time Nathan loosened his grip. Painfully aware of how close our bodies were, I looked into his eyes.

He pressed his hips against mine. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one affected.

“You suck at fighting,” he rasped. He leaned forward, his mouth a millimeter from mine. I closed my eyes and tried to stop my body from trembling. His breath teased my lips, and I shivered.

The bells above the shop door chimed. Nathan sprang to his feet, using a book from the nearest table as a shield to hide his obvious state of arousal. I rose clumsily beside him and hoped I didn’t look too flushed.

The customer who entered was about fifty years old and had long, graying hair. She looked us over with knowing brown eyes. “I’ve come at a bad time. I’ll be back later.” She gave the overturned table and scattered merchandise a pointed glance before turning toward the door.

“No, no.” Nathan reached down to right the table. “What can I help you with tonight, Deb?”

The woman looked from him to me with an expression of uncertainty. I coughed and smiled, trying—quite unsuccessfully—to hide the guilt written all over my face.

At Nathan’s urging, the customer rattled off a long list of ingredients she needed to make a protection charm. He directed her to the herb pantry at the back of the shop and promised he’d be with her in a moment.

“Deb is a regular,” he explained, almost apologetically. “You might as well go upstairs.”