Date: 2022-10-27 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Reverse Harem; Paranormal
Description: Something Psychotic this way comes. Pepper O’Malley Jill of all trades, hedonist, and dark witch. Adrenaline tastes better with a little blood and sweat. At least, that is what I tell myself after an undercover job goes awry and I get fired by my friend. He’s lucky I love him and see right through his command to keep me safe. Nowhere else to go and in need of cash. I finally head home, where my childhood best friends left me the keys to the bar. They hoped one day I’d open the corner pub back up and make it my own. Keys in hand, I open the bar with a little magical help and end up knee-deep in

Psychotic

Chaos Magic Book 1

Elle Lincoln

Copyright © 2022 by Elle Lincoln

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Editing by Elemental Editing and Proofreading

Proofreading by Bookish Dreams Editing

Cover Design Danielle Fine

Created with Vellum

For every single person who saw me as a chaotic mess…

You were right. This is me owning that shit.

Contents

Author’s Note

Blurb

Pepper’s Potions

Prologue

1. Pepper

2. Pepper

3. Pepper

4. Pepper

5. Jasper

6. Pepper

7. Pepper

8. Pepper

9. Pepper

10. Nikko

11. Pepper

12. Pepper

13. Pepper

14. Pepper

15. Van

16. Pepper

17. Pepper

18. Pepper

19. Pepper

20. Donovan

21. Pepper

22. Pepper

23. Pepper

24. Pepper

25. Jasper

26. Pepper

27. Pepper

28. Pepper

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Elle Lincoln

Author’s Note

Thank you so much for reading Psychotic!

If you downloaded this eBook from anywhere other than Kindle, found errors, or just have a few questions, please feel free to email the author at ElleLincolnAuthor@gmail.com

Please note that Psychotic is a why choose/polyamorous romance where the heroine doesn’t have to choose between any of the guys. There are some darker themes in this series that some readers may find triggering.

Happy Reading.

Blurb

Something psychotic this way comes.

Pepper O’Malley

Jill of all trades, hedonist, and dark witch.

Adrenaline tastes better with a little blood and sweat. At least, that’s what I tell myself after an undercover job goes awry and I get fired by my friend. He’s lucky I love him and see right through his actions—he’s trying to keep me safe.

With nowhere else to go and in need of cash, I return home. My childhood best friends have left me the keys to their bar, hoping one day I’d open the corner pub back up and make it my own.

Keys in hand, and with a little magical help, I slap the open sign on and end up knee-deep in immortal drama. Turns out I wasn’t just given a bar to call mine, but they also handed down the mantle of peacekeeper for the city of Philadelphia.

That fine print will get you every single time.

Now I’m slinging cocktails and giving out coveted bartender advice. It’s an unsuspected gig, but it feels right.

Until dead bodies start turning up with terror frozen on their faces, and their corpses are nothing more than dried-up husks.

Everything I’ve learned is about to get put to the test, and when a few strays stumble my way, wanting to help, I know better than to accept—only I’m out of my league and very mortal. For now, I need to accept their help.

The stakes have never been higher.

Pepper’s Potions

Bar Hours

Monday—3pm to 2am

Tuesday—Closed

Wednesday—Closed

Thursday—3pm to 2am

Friday—3pm to 2am, Ghoulie hour from 6pm to 8pm

Saturday—3pm to 2am

Sunday—3pm to 2 am, Sunday Funday

Prologue

Pepper

“To love you is to curse our ancestors.” Connor presses a gentle kiss against my neck.

“It is a love we cannot commit to.”

“Not in this life.”

“In the next,” Donovan says as tears fill his eyes, “I will love you for all of our days.”

Myrina’s going to kill me. This crazy, psychotic bitch wants to take me out and knock me on my ass with a sadistic smile on her face. Poof, no more Pepper. It serves me right for allowing my mind to wander.

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

Three hits—one to my calves, my stomach, then my shoulder blades—knock me down. My knees slam onto the sand of the training arena, saliva dripping from my lips as my lungs heave. Strands of hair stick to my face, glued there by blood, grit, and sweat. Grit. A tortured laugh escapes me, and I look up at my willing torturer. I asked for this, so the only one to blame here is myself.

“Again!” she shouts at me without sympathy, twirling her spear before slamming one end into the sand. The golden sun highlights her form, giving her the appearance of an avenging angel. Once upon a time, her and her amazons were just that. Every creature has an expiration date, including immortals. The amazons usually deliver that death blow.

Myrina is deadly, crazy, and whooping my ass. “I need to breathe.”

“If you can speak, you can breathe.” She crouches before me, her golden armor clinking. One callused hand tips my chin up until I am forced to meet her knowing gaze. Myrina misses nothing. Not one cut, not one aching muscle, and not the pain that radiates out from my shattered heart. “You’re done for the day.”

I heave out a sigh of relief. Sweat pours off my body, and my thighs shake, threatening to protest walking for days.

Just when I think she’s going to let me go for the evening and join the other amazons, she clasps my face in her palms. Her kohl-rimmed eyes darken, and I know she’s about to impart some wisdom that I won’t appreciate for at least a decade. Again.

“You hold so much potential, Pepper. Your heartache impairs you.” Again, she rips open the barely scabbed over wound. She’s done this every day for the last week, leaving me raw and exposed. “You have this evening to get yourself together, deal with your wounds, and heal them properly. A warrior can use pain and happiness as fuel. Emotions, whether good or bad, drive us for the better, and yet you still bring them to my arena and use only the negative to drive your hits, and Pepper, they are not good hits.” Her lips kick up into a smile, softening the blow. “Go, shower, and eat.” She purposely leaves out what will happen if I don’t get my shit together.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She drops her hands, and I heave myself up. My body feels heavy, broken, and tired. Although I’m only twenty-two, I feel like I’ve aged ten years.

Heartache will do that to a girl.

“The magic of heartbreak,” I whisper as I walk off the arena and toward the waterfalls.

There, I said it. Out loud, that is. We’ve all felt that bone-shattering feeling when the person we dedicated our life to doesn’t love us back.

Can’t love. Won’t love.

Rejection.

It cuts so deeply that a wound splinters in our very being, and we are doomed to compare every relationship after that to that one love. The loss will become a constant reminder of what we had, while desperation simmers under our skin as we claw at the air, trying to get what we had back.

Some love just isn’t meant to be.

“You suck.” Dede, my pixie companion, flutters before me, pulling away from the hoard of pixies that fly by. “And you stink.”

“I do.” I toss my spear with the others and head toward the stone path leading into the jungle. My bare feet slap against the stones, already growing callused. Large leaves the size of my head ripple in the soft breeze and grant me shade as I enter. Trees tower overhead, inching closer to the sky than any other I’ve laid eyes on. “I’ll get better,” I promise on a whisper. There is no other choice. I can’t go home, not where their ghosts linger. Besides, I love it here.

Themyscira is as magical as it appears. It’s a hidden island on Earth that functions in its own time and climate, abundant with fresh water and produce that we harvest ourselves. The weather is always perfect, and the storms are few.

I ran here because my heart hurt, and I needed a place to hide and lick my wounds. It wasn’t even an actual breakup, not in a traditional sense. They rejected me before we became anything more than friends.

They were the boys I grew up with, the ones who showed up in my life and walked beside me on my path for ten years. Ten wasted years. I fell in love, and they spoke harsh words in response. They loved me then told me we could be nothing more than friends.

I figured living here with Myrina and the other amazons would allow the wounds to heal, but so far, all I’ve done is cry, and they don’t even have ice cream I can drown my sorrows in.

Ahead, the deafening sounds of the waterfall drown out all my thoughts as I peel away my clothing, kicking it to the side so I can dive under the crisp water.

My lungs expel all the breath in my body as I dive under the surface and hover there before kicking my way to the top. The waterfall roars into the swimming area, bringing fresh water so cold I know my lips have already turned blue.

Yet the day is hot, and the water quickly washes away the sweat and sand that clings to my skin. Taking a deep breath, I dive under again and kick my way to the ledge where Dede sits on a rock. Her iridescent wings buzz and chirp like a cricket’s, and red pixie dust spills onto the stone, the only sign of her irritation.

“She’s right.” Dede hums under her breath before darting up to fly around my head. “You are a badass. You just need to learn to let go.”

“I’m trying to let go, Dede.” I side-eye her and snag my clothing as I climb out.

She walks with me to our hut a quarter mile away. Remaining naked, I let the heat of the day dry me. Most of the other women are on their way to the mess hall, ready to eat. The thought of food makes my stomach churn.

“Try harder,” she says.

I’ve known the pixie for only a couple of weeks, and though it took a little while for me to figure out how to hear her, once I did, she made up for lost time. She’s become one of those friends who feels like we’ve known each other for life, even though it’s only been a short time. She’s also brutal in her honesty, and though others might get offended by her words, I’m glad for them—usually.

“Fated mates is bullshit anyway. Look at me. No mates, and I’m happy as…” She buzzes around my head, trying to find an analogy. “I’m as happy as a woman with an endless supply of ice cream. Or chocolate cake.”

“Better than sex, huh?” As I approach our hut, I toss my clothing into the bin for me to wash later, and I duck inside. There isn’t much to it. It’s one open space, with a small table and one seat, a pallet for a bed, and another bin for clothing.

Pulling out britches and a long cami, I grab my comb and work through my hair. No longer dyed fun and bright colors, the natural red curls over my shoulders. The moment I stepped foot on the island, it reverted to its normal shade.

I huff. Magic. Inside my breastbone, something simmers—an unknown entity that I’m holding my breath to discover. It’s been building slowly over the last several weeks, whispering how amazing we could be in the dead of night, with endless potential.

“You need a love potion.” Dede flutters to the honey jar and pushes it over.

My comb clatters to the table after I toss it aside, and I open the jar for her, pouring a small amount onto a tea plate. “A love potion? For what?”

“You know the saying.” She blinks up at me, her emerald eyes so innocent it’s deceiving. “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“And I need a love potion for that?” I question, even though her words catch and an idea forms.

“I know that look. What is it?” She glances around as though a fight is brewing.

“What about an anti-love potion?” I drum my fingers on the table. “And poison lipstick?”

“One thing at a time. First, who is going to brew that, baby witch?” She snorts and uses a toothpick to scoop up a bit of honey. “You?” she mocks. “You don’t even know what kind of magic you have, if that’s what it is at all.”

She’s wrong. Magic burns inside me, I can feel it in my soul. I just need to tap into it. Unfortunately, I’ve never met another witch, so I don’t know how to do any of that. “Hear me out,” I say instead.

Rolling her hand like a diva, she plops onto the counter and waits for my half-assed plan. Her small dress flares out around her in tatters that she braids.

“An anti-love potion.” I hold up a hand when she opens her mouth. “A normal love potion does what? Helps people fall in love, right?”

“I believe that is the theory.” She raises a thin brow at me. I know she’d prefer for me to just go out and hook up. I’m not there yet. Eventually, I’ll take that advice, but just not right now.

“So what if I concoct a potion that prevents me from falling in love?” I drawl. Her jaw cracks as she snaps her mouth closed, and her eyes widen. “I already know I have two fated mates and they don’t want me. What if there are more out there? What if they don’t want me either?” Fated mates is nature’s way of assuring immortals procreate at a slower pace than mortals so we don’t outnumber them. It isn’t love, it’s biology, and it doesn’t always work out.

“Pepper, what if they do?” she counters, and despite her earlier conviction that we don’t need men except for a good time, there is a sadness to her words.

“I am twenty-two. I have my entire life to live, one that I know I can fill with magic. Myrina is right. I’m holding back. If I can make an anti-love potion, I’ll never hurt again. I’ll never fall in love again.” My excitement rises with each word, with each breath I take. “And only then can I morph into the witch I’m meant to become.”

“Pepper, you are a witch. All magical creatures have a fated mate. What if they meet you and fall in love with you, and you reject them without ever knowing?” she argues.

“Valid.” I point at her. “But I don’t think there will ever be anyone else.”

Her frown tells me she disagrees, yet she says, “What do we need?”

“I have a few ideas.”

Chapter 1

Pepper

Two years later

“Witches don’t divorce.” My lips shift into a crazed smile. I can feel blood slowly drip onto my chin from my split lip. “We widow.”

“You crazy witch! You double-crossed me.” The warlock I’ve been fighting for the last half hour tumbles backward over a stack of red plastic milk crates. Eyes wild and black, he scrambles to get away from me—as he should. I am menacing.

“Oh, bless your heart,” I say in a sickly sweet tone that would put most Southerners to shame.

“I should have killed you first.” His thick shoulders press against the damp brick wall behind him. It is the spittle that lands at my feet that irritates me more than his words.

“Was that necessary?” I point at the colossal loogie sitting at my feet and shudder.

“You won’t get away with this.”

“Blah blah blah.” My hands slap my thighs, a clear sign that I just don’t care what he thinks. Feeling the leather, wet from the earlier rain, reminds me I need to get this shit show over with before they shrink and I have to cut the material off my body.

Been there, done that. Do not recommend.

“What did I ever do to you?” he snarls. “Besides give you the best ride of your life.” His pointy chin juts out, and he pushes his jet-black hair off his face. He smiles as though that will make me fold.

It won’t.

I haven’t bent to a man’s will in over two years, and I never will again. Ever so slowly, I crouch before the warlock since he can’t stand and all. A slice to the calves will do that to a guy.

Feeling the tiniest scrap of empathy, I quietly mutter, “You could have been a solid eight, Mercutio. I admit you gave good dick.” I grip his ankle and twist, savoring his scream. “Murdering innocent women, however, puts you in the negatives, my dude.”

His body twists and contorts as he tries to curl into himself. My hand hovers over the long, thin blade strapped to my thigh. It would be easy, and I wouldn’t have to deal with any messy divorce papers.

That’s a minor factor I should have considered before taking this case.

I do that occasionally, jump headfirst into situations and go full throttle. I love the serotonin boost I get as I free fall, even though I’m also left digging myself out of an early grave.

Instead, I tug on the magic simmering in my chest. Black smog pours from me and wraps around his ankles and wrists. I make sure the intent is a tight cuff because he deserves it. Actually, he deserves my blade through his ear, but here we are.

Pixie dust falls onto my outstretched hand as though someone just glitter bombed me with gold, healing the abrasive cuts from my fight with Mercutio. Small wings buzz in my ears, and a moment later, Dede sits her prim butt on my shoulder. I don’t get a good look at her, but I’m sure she’s wearing her usual Barbie outfit, or one of the many I’ve purchased for her over the years.

Dede is a pixie addicted to Barbie fashion. I shouldn’t indulge her, but she gets so excited every time she gets a new outfit that I can’t help myself. It isn’t my fault that she’s the same size as a well-known plastic doll.

“Nik is on the way,” she chitters.

A weight lifts off my shoulders, and I grab the milk crate and slide it under my trembling thighs. “He’s late.” I hang my head and keep my eyes glued on the warlock I’ve trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. He’s completely passed out from the pain I inflicted.

I don’t feel bad about it either. My fingers brush along my split lip, feeling a lump under my nose. Trailing my fingers over my cheek, I hiss when I feel where he decked me.

I kick him in the calf again. “Dish rag hit me.”

“What did you expect? He’s a serial killer,” Dede mutters while lying down on my shoulder. I should flick her little pixie body off my shoulder, except I won’t.

She’s my partner in crime.

The peanut butter to my marshmallow.

The cucumber to my vinegar.

“You’re right.” I should have known better.

“You didn’t have to fu—”

“No regrets, De.” I side-eye my little pixie accomplice. “Next time Nik wants me for undercover work, I’m charging more.”

“It’s a damn shame you couldn’t keep the money.” She sighs wistfully. It didn’t take her long to realize how vital currency is here. During our undercover work to bring Mercutio down, we discovered he was working with a few of the local cartels and some mafia runners. We had to hand over all the cash we busted them with. “Back home—”

I cut her off before she gives me the usual spiel all over again. “No currency exists.” I side-eye her again. “I know.”

“Money.” She huffs, her little breath sending a chill through me as it rolls over my ear. “Money, Pepper. There is no money. Currency can be anything. Mead, honey, which you know I prefer, and even fruit, bread, and pickles!”

“Cucumbers?” I indulge her since I can’t do anything other than wait for Nik.

“Oh yes. The fae love cucumbers,” she says with utter seriousness, not at all catching on to my unique flavor of snark.

“For all those midnight snacks?” I poke at Mercutio’s foot, making sure he’s still alive. Yes, I wanted to kill him. Yes, I threatened to do just that. That, however, would disappoint Nik, and I try not to disappoint him.

He’s the only friend from my past I kept in touch with.

“You know there is no midnight in Faerie. It’s your twilight. Always twilight.” Her wings whine in defiance. Whenever she gets irritated or irrational, her wings rub together like a cricket’s. Only, unlike a cricket, she can create the most beautiful music or the most horrendous ruckus. There is no in-between with Dede.

That isn’t even her real name. The thing is, I don’t speak her language very well yet, but I’m working on it. Everything I learn, though, makes me want to watch The Lord of the Rings all over again—a series she refuses to indulge in.

In the distance, the sounds of sirens finally reach my ears. “About time,” I mutter before looking at Dede. “You know the drill.”

Humans do not know magic exists. Sure, some believe there is more to the world than what meets the eye. Mostly, however, they dismiss anything out of the ordinary as nothing more than the will of a force that gifts them faith.

Who am I to shatter that illusion?

Telling a human that shifters, lycans, vampires, and gods aren’t only real but part of their everyday lives and that they are the same people they party with, smoke with, work beside, and, hell, are even sometimes best friends and lovers with, would literally break their fragile little minds.

Not all humans handle the knowledge of immortality or magic well, and many go insane, so all the world’s spicy creatures stay quiet about who they are.

There is only one problem with that—guys like Mercutio here. When a spicy mouth breather goes on a killing spree, it sometimes catches the attention of the very human media. That’s a problem for all of us.

Humans fear what they don’t understand. They are inclined to kill first and never ask questions. Again, not great.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you back at the bike.” Dede also took to snark like a fish in water. Her wings hum as she buzzes before me, a peculiar look on her little face. Sharp features make her look severe and nothing like the little pixie from the mouse franchise. She’s all harsh angles, fierce and deadly.

“What’s up?” I go on alert because she’s acting as though she can see something I can’t, which she can. It wouldn’t be the first time either. I’ve learned to tune into her posture and cues. Unlike humans, pixies see more of the light spectrum than our pathetic eyes. I’m not human, not really, but I have yet to see as she does.

“Shadows.” She shakes her head before glaring at me as though I did something wrong. “Be careful.”

“You damn well know once Nik finally shows up, he won’t keep his eyes off me.” I wiggle my fingers, making my magic dance like a rope. One end attaches to me, and the other end lashes out at the bad guy.

Huffing, she places her fists on her hips and buzzes far too close to me, making my eyes cross. However, I don’t back down because she’d see it as a threat. She’s already held a knife to my throat once, which isn’t an experience I wish to relive.

Pixies are terrifying.

“He loves you,” she whispers.

“Then he’s dating the wrong woman.” An old hurt bubbles up inside me, sending a pinching sensation through my chest.

“I can dust him.” She flies backward, brandishing her sword. She makes casual slices through the air, and small cuts appear as though she pierces an invisible, glittering rainbow that I can only see because she slashed it. The tear sews itself back together just as fast as she created it.

“Thanks, De.” My gust of breath spills from me with resignation. It’s not every day your bestie slices through molecules just to prove a point, but I take it for the show of love it is.

“I want mead on the way home.” She lifts her chin and blinks at me with her overexaggerated eyes.

“Done.” Lights flash at the head of the alley. “I’m safe, go.”

With a huff, she darts up vertically, appearing as though she’s nothing more than a lightning bug in the fall. Granted, I’m in Jersey now, but no one will question it.

Behind me, the sires echo off the brick walls, creating a ringing in my ears. “Showtime,” I tell my husband and kick his leg again. I love the way he grunts every time I hurt him.

I adore it when he screams, both in pleasure and pain. It’s a damn shame he had to be a serial killer.

“Pepper!” Nikko rushes to my side, and for a moment, the walls he erected between us crumble. His eyes scan my face, and he sees the knot forming on my cheek. His nostrils flare, and his expression transforms into utter anger.

I take pleasure in all the expressions that wrinkle his handsome face. Taller than me by a few inches, he’s built like a brick house, all muscle and brawn and packaged in a delicious Hispanic bow.

He’s just not a gift for me.

Nik and I go way back. He busted me twice for underage drinking. Well, bust is a strong word. Caught is more like it. He promised me if I ever did anything illegal again and he found out, he’d arrest me.

I just learned how to stay low and quiet. It’s a dangerous game that gives me all the warm fuzzies.

“Call an ambulance!” he shouts to his former partner, Amy Willis, the bane of my existence.

“Hey, Hutch!” I lean backward, waving at the little blond stomping toward me.

“Don’t call me that,” she sneers at me. “You look fine.”

“She’s not fine!” Nik scolds his old partner—aka, his girlfriend. I once questioned him about dating her. He just shrugged and took a promotion to detective, following in his father’s footsteps. I guess that means they are good to go dating wise.

She wears a uniform, and he wears street clothes. He still calls me if he is in a bind, and she hates that.

It’s because I play dirty in a fight.

“I’m fine.” I slap his hand away and point to Mercutio. “Bad guy is waking up.”

It would be the ideal time for me to enact the perfect Irish goodbye. The last time I did that, Nik threatened to arrest me. Again.

I detect a pattern here.

So I didn’t get the guy, and that’s okay. Mostly. Until he calls and I go running because I love the pain.

“Pepper, you have a welt on your face.” Nikko pushes me back down to the crate when I try to stand up.

“He packs one hell of a wallop.” I try to be flippant, except that hit hurt, and I have a feeling Dede didn’t heal it on purpose.

Psycho matchmaking pixie. She refuses to accept that I let Nikko go.

Humans and witches? We could make it work, but I won’t put him through what I’ve been through, and that is why I keep my distance.

“She’s fine, Nik.” Amy places a hand on his bicep, and part of me wants to dust her right there for touching what’s mine.

Only he is hers, not mine at all.

I slip to the side and stand, my leathers squeaking with my movement, and I walk toward the line of cops staring at the villain lying in a puddle.

My work here is done. Finally.

Nodding to the line of cops, I step to the side. No one pays me much attention. Like Amy, they are not my biggest fans. That’s okay. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.

It’s just one thing I’ve had to accept about myself over the years.

Shouts rise behind me. “They should have just arrested him when they had the chance,” I mutter, not reacting as shots ring out in the narrow alley.

I turn around without a care in the world and see Mercutio rise on trembling legs. I really thought slicing his calves would keep him down.

It didn’t.

I wait. Nik usually wouldn’t delay, only Amy is in the way of Mercutio’s rampage. Anger at me rolls off of him in waves, directed at me. He’s got every reason to be mad at me. I broke up his trafficking operation when the human police couldn’t.

Sparkles zap between his fingers.

“Dammit, how do you have any juice left?” I turn to Nik, who’s pushing Amy behind him. “Shoot him!” I scream even though I want to yell, She’s fine! I decided to keep it civil. Yeah, for me.

Everyone moves too damn slow. They don’t see the magic dancing between his fingertips or the way it forms into a ball.

They can’t see, only I can.

Stomping my foot in irritation, I grip my blade and let it fly. The long, thin blade races toward his head as he releases his ball of energy.

That’s going to hurt.

As the blade sinks deep into his forehead, the blast strikes my shoulder, knocking me back. My head cracks on the concrete with a thwack, and my ass lands in a puddle.

Stars dance behind my eyes, and I slowly blink at the sky. My neck burns, and I flick my gaze to Mercutio, who’s lying mere feet away. His chin presses to the ground, and his dark eyes peer at me with a vacant look in them.

Dead. Finally. “I told you,” I wheeze. “Witches don’t divorce. We widow.”

Pain fills my lungs on an inhale, and Nik steps into my line of sight. He’s going to have fun cleaning this one up.

“Dammit, Conejita.” He kneels beside me, his hands hovering over me. He doesn’t know how hurt I am.

Hell, that makes two of us. “Don’t call me that.” I cough, feeling everything ache. I wonder if I have any healing potions at home.

His gaze turns panicked, and he looks over at Amy, who stands stunned ten feet away. “Pepper.”

“Don’t.” I swallow. “Magic ball of lightning.” I try to make light of it, but those balls hurt. “Signature hit. Pretend it was a knife.” After all, he will have to tell the others something.

His eyes close, and his lips tip on at the edges. “How many XP are you down?”

“Hearts, Nik, hearts.”

“That’s right, you prefer Zelda terms over any other game.”

“It’s highly underrated.” I pause. “Except Twilight Princess.” Fuck that game.

“Alright, how many hearts did you lose? Oh, Master Link.” He only jokes with me because I started it. Otherwise, he’d panic.

I could lie, but I won’t. Not this time at least. “A solid ten.” The asshole definitely broke a rib. “I’m going to require one of those homemade meals and some federal doughnuts. Don’t forget to get my knife back.” Dammit, I love that knife.

Those sinful lips kick up into an amused smile. “Hey!” He snaps his fingers, and medics do his bidding. “Check her over.”

“Nik.” I push him away and sit up. “I’m alright.” Wincing, I glance at my shoulder and curse. “Another one bites the dust.” I loved this leather jacket. It took most of the brunt of the hit while protecting me. A small hole now rests on the shoulder.

“You aren’t okay,” he whispers.

“I’ve got a pill for that.” Refusing treatment, I stand on shaky feet and push the medics away. “I’m chalking this up to self-defense, Nik.” I glance at him and watch as he winces. “No.” I point at him. “Not again.”

“Amy, call the morgue,” Nik says, already standing and guiding me toward his car with a palm on my lower back. “I suppose you wouldn’t want to delay this anyway,” he mutters low enough that only I can hear him.

“I hate you,” I mumble, as he opens the back door to his sedan and gestures for me to take a seat like a lowlife criminal.

“You love me.” He slams the door before I can retort.

He’s taking me to the station. Again.

The scent of peppermint stings my nostrils, and I seek the hidden candies as my stomach grumbles.

Criminal. I mean, I might be, depending on who you ask, but he doesn’t have to treat me like one.

“De is going to be so pissed.” By now, she knows the drill. If I don’t show up at my bike in the next twenty minutes, she will make her way back to the garage or stick to the plan and head home. It’s a shitty flight for a pixie, and she knows where to hide if she needs to. We set up little bird houses within five-mile radiuses of each other, stocked with honey.

Nik’s door creaks open and he climbs in. His scent of spices fills the cab, and I drop my head back along the seat so I can avoid smelling him. Dammit, why does he have to smell so good?

The slam of his car door is the nail in my coffin. I wait until the cruisers’ lights fade before I break the silence. “You were late.” I roll my head to the side, staring out the window as he travels through Camden, heading toward good ole Benny J.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, you ended up in Jersey.” I can feel his irritation. Although he should be mad at me, he has no reason to be. As a human knee-deep in the immortal world, he helps us keep the peace—or rather helps us keep magic hidden.

I visibly shudder on purpose because I’m a dramatic witch like that. “Whoops.”

“You were supposed to keep him on our side of the river, Conejita.” My eyes meet his in the rearview mirror. His irises are chocolate brown and full of life. That is why I never returned any of his past advances—he is far too genuine for a bitch like me.

It’s also why I let the nickname go. Bunny. He gave it to me when I was sixteen when we first met at a frat house. Nikko just returned from Afghanistan and was there to keep his rambunctious brother in line. He ended up with a chaotic teenage Pepper hell-bent on getting drunk and ending up drugged.

He saved my life that night, so he can call me anything he wants—as long as we are alone.

“I know.” I peel off my wig and set the long black waves to the side. Underneath, my frizzy red hair escapes from my cap. I’ve been itching to color my hair something, anything, other than what it is.

“You didn’t have to marry him, Pepper, for Christ’s sake.”

“Leave him out of it.”

“Dios mío.” He slaps the steering wheel, and I roll my head over to look out the window. “Did you fuck him?”

“Does it matter?”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“Why?” I sit up and lean forward. I grab hold of the bars separating us and lean as close as I can. “Does it matter?”

“You know why it does, Pepper.”

“Fucking hell, Angel,” I say and slump back against the seat. I know using his nickname from that night will soften him. “I needed to catch him in action. Which I did. The disk is in the mail and will be on your desk first thing tomorrow morning. The backups went to Sabina and me. Everything is on there, including the locations of all the missing women.” Mercutio kidnapped women and sold them off to depraved immortals.

“We got the disk in this morning, a day early. Captain dispatched teams first thing,” he states. “You don’t have to involve the council, Pepper.”

Relief spills through me. It’s one thing to volunteer to go undercover, but it’s another thing to do nothing when I could have done something. “That’s just it, Nik, I do.” The council needs to know about this. “You know the deal. I keep a copy of immortal crimes, you get a copy, and another goes to the council.” Or rather the governing body of all spicy creatures that walk the Earth. My cousin just so happens to be their leader’s very pregnant mate.

“Is nothing sacred to you?” There is heat in his question that I don’t want to address because this talk right here is more than just between detective and subcontractor.

It’s friend and friend.

A little of lost lover to lover.

“No,” I answer honestly, staring out at the night as rain pelts the window with thick droplets. “Marriage is nothing more than a union meant for the weak.” Sure, they may love each other, but it is nothing compared to the all-consuming love of fated mates. It’s insta-love wrapped up in desire that burns hot and fast, and it can incinerate all partners just as quickly.

Long ago, I took a potion to keep myself from ever feeling that love, and I don’t regret it, not once. I also won’t apologize for diving undercover and getting off on it.

“You’re wrong,” he says, and I suppress a sigh. “Marriage is sacred, Conejita. Even your kind, who have fated mates, may enter into a sacred union, and you disrespect that by marrying a criminal for a job.”

“A job you contracted me to do,” I retort heatedly. “I caught him, okay? It doesn’t matter how, only that I did.”

“You killed him.”

“He was going to kill me!” I sit up, anger thrumming in my veins.

“And now I have to prove it.” He shakes his head. “No more, Conejita. No more jobs. Not with the police department, and absolutely no more going undercover. Never again.”

Panic swells inside me. “You can’t do that to me, Nik.” I swallow past my anxiety. “I need the money.” Having a contract with the spooky division kept the lights on wherever I stayed.

“I need you alive more.” His brown eyes flick to mine in the rearview. His gaze holds so much damn pain, and a ton of history rises between us at that moment. “Look, maybe I should call the twins.”

“No!” I exclaim and look away. “Don’t. I’ll figure something out. Just make sure I get paid for this.”

“You know I will.”

“It goes both ways, Nik. You can’t call me anymore if you end up with a stuck shifter in the middle of the city, or if a god lands on top of the library seeking his own memoir,” I state, reiterating the last few cases he needed me on. “Don’t call me.”

“Deal,” he says far too swiftly.

“You want to think about it?” I snort. A nagging sensation begins at the back of my head. “You already spoke to the twins, didn’t you?”

His silence is telling. They will talk to Nik, just not me. As far back as Nik and I go, the twins and I go back further. They are druids, living their best lives in their homeland of Ireland. They think I’m human. I kept the fact that I’m a witch from them. It’s far better this way.

The four of us used to be inseparable, but now we are broken and scattered. They are the reason I spent two years running as fast and as far as I could, all while I figured out just who I am.

I worked to become the biggest, baddest witch on the East Coast, and in just two short years, I’ve done almost that. Almost. I don’t know many other witches, so of course I’m the best.

“I was worried about you,” Nikko finally admits after a long stretch of silence.

“You have Amy to worry about.” Am I bitter about that? Yes. Do I have any right to be bitter? Probably not.

“They got a call that the bar had been closed.”

“Dammit, Nik.” I groan. The bar is another thorn in my side. “I can’t do it all, Angel. If they want their bar, they can come back and keep it open themselves.”

“They left you the bar, Bunny.”

“I prefer it in Spanish.” I pout as we enter Center City, Philadelphia.

“Conejita, the bar has a purpose.”

“Neutral ground,” I say. I get it. It’s the only neutral ground for miles, and by miles, I mean on the east side of the damn state.

“It needs to stay open, and now that the case is over, you can go home and open it tomorrow and forget all about working cases for me.” There’s hope in his voice that just pisses me off.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“I get it. You can’t keep the bar open. You have the garage, you take on odd jobs here and there, and you sell sex toys.” His voice turns sour at the end, telling me what he thinks about that one. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the sign for the apothecary in your alley.”

“The sign’s up?” I brighten. I haven’t stayed at home, home in, well… okay, years. That isn’t the point. I had an idea and commissioned the sign.

“Pepper!” Nikko yells at me. “Focus.”

“You’re wrong.” I slump back as we near the station. It’s going to be hours before I get home, which is fine. I’ve avoided it for a long time now. “I can do it all.”

He pulls into a parking space and turns around, his scruffy face as handsome as ever and wearing all his emotions. I see worry for me, hope for his future, and a pain that never seems to go away. “You could be much more if you focused on one thing.” He holds up a finger. “Just one, not ten.”

“Ten keeps me from my thoughts,” I whisper as he turns the car off and drenches us in darkness.

“You’ll have to face them one day, Pepper.”

“Not today.” I push open the door he thought had me locked in, and I savor his grunt of surprise. “Send cookies and mead to the house, Nik. Otherwise, I’ll unleash my pissed off pixie.”

I slam the car door shut and cut off his reply. Dawn is already peeking over the horizon. Let’s get this over with.

Apparently, I have shit to face.

Chapter 2

Pepper

The night felt as though it refused to end, and not in a good way. I’m usually all for getting drilled into the early hours of the morning and well into the afternoon.

Nikko and his boss locked me in an interrogation room for hours. There were no potty breaks either, and my leather pants dried, so now they are glued to my ass and the corset top has left lines all over my torso. They also confiscated my leather jacket for analysis…

Or rather, Nikko and his boss want to test it to figure out how magic works. I’d worry more, but Sabina will have that shit stolen back just as soon as I call her, which means I have to prepare for that call. My cousin isn’t just pregnant, she’s almost nine months pregnant with twin pups.

Yes, pups.

I’ll call her after I lie down and get a little shut-eye… and a shower. I need a shower. I can still smell Mercutio on my skin and nether regions, and in leather pants…

It’s a breeding ground for a yeast infection. “Damn it.” I kick the gate to my gran’s house and watch as the wooden door drops to the walkway, promptly breaking in two. I’ve been standing on the damn sidewalk for well over twenty minutes with the early morning sun beating down on me. Nik dropped me off, much to Amy’s detriment, and I am not afraid to admit that watching her seethe satisfied something inside me.

I’m a toxic asshole like that.

I’ve been back in the city for a few months now, and all that time, I avoided this house like the plague, which is pretty easy to do, considering my dad’s garage has a loft where I can rest my head. I swear Nikko knew the moment my feet hit the ground in Philadelphia because he showed up the following morning.

Or he had surveillance on my shop. That is the likely scenario, but there is something about the idea of a guy stalking me that gives me all the warm fuzzies.

It’s fine. I saw a therapist. Like once.

Either way, I knew returning to this place would be inevitable, yet the bar that sits to the left makes my stomach flutter.

Memories swirl in my mind’s eye and threaten to sweep me off my feet—from the porch where I used to sit with my gran, drinking margaritas, to the laughter that haunts this moment. It’s as though the house is alive in a way that isn’t quite normal, which is something that could very well be true.

Gran just so happens to be the goddess Artemis. She’s a spitfire and a meddling maiden who insists on keeping an eye on all her daughters. None of us are biologically hers, but I dare anyone to say that to her face and not die.

Memories of a ghostly me stalks down the steps to grab a brand-new bike materialized by Artie. Because I am the type of person to just dive into something without asking for help, I told her I knew how to ride a bike. I didn’t, and I promptly crashed into a thorn bush behind the bar.

That’s how I met the twins. They patched me up and then taught me how to ride a bike. They told me they couldn’t be a part of my life, but there was one problem—they infiltrated every little moment of my life, and I refused to embrace a future without them.

They saw me as a child, but I saw them as gods.

I didn’t get the guys like all of Disney’s fairy tales, I got those of the Grimms’.

Not the twins and not Nikko. I landed Mercutio, and maybe that’s all fate will allow me to have. Either way, I won’t ever know because I made damn sure of that.

It didn’t stop the twins from giving me the bar. I read most of the fine print. It had to stay open and remain neutral ground for all the spicy creatures of Philadelphia.

I naïvely assumed there was me and maybe a few others. I was wrong. Oh so wrong. The contract claimed there were at least a few hundred in West Philly alone. That was when I stopped reading. No thank you.

Guilt burns inside of me as I glance at the bar. They removed the sign two years ago before they noped out of the states. Another clause. I could name it whatever the hell I wanted.

I haven’t been back, though, not in those two years. Others open it for me occasionally, but it’s my job, not theirs. Even so, I haven’t been back to the bar until now.

I just couldn’t walk in there when my last memory of them in that bar was them looking at me with unfulfilled passion as a spark danced between us.

My fate is to love what I can’t have.

I avoided this street, these two structures, and the life I could make for myself for two full years. At that time, I followed my cousin Sabina when her father not-died to the north and the Allegheny woods to help her find who not-killed him and uncovered so much more. Like lycans and shifters. I met Dede, and when Sabina needed the amazons, I took the contract they offered her. Dede and I went to their mystical island, where they taught me how to fight and overcome my pain. They trained me until my muscles burned and I wept from the ache. Then I woke up and did it all over again.

I traversed the underworld with my friend Vanessa, fighting revenants when Persephone lost her shit and went insane. After sleeping my way through half the castle of nightmare creatures, I finally met Hecate. She was an interesting goddess with her own YouTube channel. Millions of mortals and immortals subscribe to her brand of crazy.

Hecate, however, told me nothing of importance, just walked circles around me and said I wasn’t ready for her yet. She said nothing about the medallion on the chain that rests between my breasts—a gold coin I inherited from my father.

After that, I helped other friends here and there, and made a few enemies and fewer allies, all to avoid coming back here.

I lasted two whole years, only coming back when my cousins called and for an occasional place to rest my head, and then I stayed at the garage. I was never alone. One of my cousins was always there right by my side.

Until now.

Light catches my eye in the big bay window on the second floor. No, it’s glitter. Pixie glitter. Sparkly dust flashes from window to window, and the curtains flutter in a slight breeze Dede caused with her wings. She’s irritated that I’m dragging my heels out here in the chilly morning.

The joke’s on her, I haven’t even moved my feet.

“Go. Do it.” I try like hell to motivate myself, yet my feet remain glued to the sidewalk. Next door, the door creaks open, and the little old man who lives there peeks his head out. Beady little eyes glare at me, and a puff of white hair flies around his head like a halo.

Yep, that’ll do it. There’s no need to socialize. I move my ass up the walkway to the heavy oak front door, where I slip inside the small breezeway. It isn’t locked. It’s warded.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch the small runes glow a bright green before they fade from sight. No one who isn’t invited can walk through the doorways. Artie’s doing, not mine.

She didn’t like the idea of me calling it the vampire glow.

I shut and lock the door because there are those who are allowed in that I’m just not in the mood to talk to, like my family. Sometimes I need to take a break from them to breathe. It doesn’t mean I don’t love them, I just love myself more.

A thump draws me back to the other door, where a small light bounces back and forth. At least she found her way here.

As soon as I open the door, Dede floats there, brandishing her sword and giving me the stink eye. The sharp tip hovers far too close to my eyeball for my liking. “Finally!” she squeaks. “Where have you been?”

“Detained,” I grumble and walk over to the couch, where I plop down. Dust motes tickle my nose, and I repress the urge to sneeze. These boots need to go.

Everything is relatively clean. There’s dust here and there, but for the most part, it’s just as I left it—stuck in the eighties.

“Nikko finally arrested you?” There’s a strange lilt to her voice, and I already know where this is about to go. “Tell me, was it everything you hoped for? Did he bend you over the desk in the interrogation room and rail you like the stallion he is?”

I pause and watch her march across the round wooden coffee table. She pauses and crudely humps the air.

“You need pixie dick,” I mutter and pull off my boot. Somehow, blood dried on the inside, gluing my sock to my ankle. “Gross.”

“Damn right I need some pixie dick!” she shouts, making me wince because she speaks at one hundred and twenty decibels. “The lack of pixie dick is severely getting to me. We are sexual creatures, Pepper. I need dick at least five times a day, and that is lowballing it.” Her little arms cross, and her foot taps out an irritated staccato.

I can’t help it. I giggle. “You said lowballing.”

“All the pixie dick. It’s important.” She sniffs in indignation. “And no, I do not want the world’s tiniest dildo. No plastic for me, no way, no how. You cannot beat the way a live one feels.” Her wings buzz in agitation, and a sprinkling of red pixie dust litters the coffee table. Her little foot stomps, and that’s when I realize she swung by the toy store on the way home.

“De, what did we say about stealing?” I finally release my other foot and glare at my pants, knowing the only way they are coming off is if I cut them off. So be it.

“Nope.” Her pixie dust turns deep green as she rises from the coffee table to flutter in my face. “I deserve to look good. Did we not just assess all the dick I’m missing out on living as your guardian?”

I smile at her, and a thank you sits on my tongue, but she won’t accept it. That is how we ended up bound to begin with. Pixies are interesting creatures. Their history is only told verbally, and it’s one she won’t talk about. I do not know what lore she stems from, and no pixies will spill those secrets.

“You are wearing a purple ball gown.” I flick at the tulle. “A puffy purple ball gown.”

“And I look good.” Her little chin juts out, and she blinks her sea green eyes. They glimmer as though they are made of glass. Honestly, the outfit is the least of my worries.

She can keep the stolen outfit.

“Nikko kicked us off as consultants.” I stand, pushing her out of the way with my hip. I haven’t been here in a while, and the place looks like brownies have cleaned it on the regular.

“What?” she screeches. Honestly, the little psycho enjoys killing more than anyone I know. It’s endearing, really. “How are we going to make our money? Your sex toy business is barely denting the bills, which are stacked on the dining room table, by the way.”

Of course, I look at said dining room table, my eyes landing on two years’ worth of bills, many of which have red lettering on the top. “Those are bad for my mental health.”

“Pepper,” Dede warns.

I set them on fire. Black flames lick the paper, and they ignite like an inferno. It’s so damn satisfying that I almost miss how the flames die down just as fast as I lit them.

That’s odd.

“Let it go.” Dede buzzes to the chandelier and rests there, her little hand holding onto the chain.

“I need scissors.”

“Hand operating shearing tools,” Dede monotones.

A drawer slides free of the hutch in the dining room. I blink at the drawer, then at the hutch, before walking forward and snatching the scissors. “Appreciate you.” The drawer slams shut.

“It’s been doing that all night.” Dede yawns, and brown dust floats down to the table.

“What has been doing what?” I wedge the scissors between my skin and pants before growling and leaving them there. The corset needs to come off first. I reach behind me, tug on the strings, and shimmy out of the darn thing. My lungs thank me, and I kick the top into the kitchen.

“The house. It’s been doing all kinds of strange things.” She kicks her legs out, using the light as a swing. “The kitchen is different too, and the mud room is that apothecary you always wanted. Don’t even get me started on the garden. Don’t worry, I tended to it in your absence. Oh, and the basement is completely renovated.”

“Dede?” I grip the scissors and cut. “When were you here last?”

“I stopped in when we hit the city. I had to know what you were avoiding,” she says sleepily. “I even have my own little home upstairs.” A lazy smile turns her lips upwards as her eyes close.

I sigh, losing all the fight inside of me. I want to get these pants off and just go to sleep. I can deal with all the damn things I’ve been avoiding over the past two years tomorrow, and then I’ll burn the last of the bills as well.

“Artemis?” I ask, though I already know the answer. My meddling maiden granny is always trying to help, even if that help is detrimental to my mental health. Finally, I cut through the leather and get out of the pants, kicking them into the kitchen as well.

Dede doesn’t answer me, and ever so gently, I pull out a chair and climb onto the table to grab her little sleeping body before she falls. The lights flicker off as I lift her and climb back to the solid floor.

That is going to take some getting used to.

Out in the living room, I pause with my pixie bestie snoring away in my palms, and look at the living room that hasn’t changed in forty years. A television sits to the right of the fireplace, and an armchair is placed directly across from it. Once upon a time, my grandfather sat there smoking his pipe and filling the house with tobacco smoke. I do not know if he knew that Gran wasn’t an old lady, but it didn’t matter because I can still see the love that shone in his eyes.

Artemis or not, he loved her, and dammit, that’s all that matters.

My stomach churns. I cut myself off from that kind of love.

Besides, dildos don’t talk back.

The stairs creak as I slowly make my way to the second floor. I’m unsure which room Dede claimed as hers, so I carry her to the attic where my room sat long ago. As the door creaks open in invitation, I step onto the squeaky floor and head upstairs. It’s so much like the twins’ attic space that, for a moment, my mind flashes me to the only time I was ever in their bedroom.

It was Halloween night years ago. I was drunk-ish, and the three guys locked me in one of the twins’ bedrooms. I must have been so drunk I imagined the shadows kissing me—my first kiss ever.

I didn’t hate it either.

A hallucination is just that. A hallucination.

I creep to the landing and see a freaking dollhouse sitting in the corner. The window casts an ethereal glow on the front door of the enormous mini mansion. “Dammit, Artie.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. She’s meddling and thoughtful.

The dollhouse is larger than most Barbie houses at four feet tall. To the left, a little latch flips up, and I carefully unlatch the front and pull it open.

It’s a replica of this house, and it’s fully stocked too, if the humming refrigerator is anything to go by. I refrain from opening it and opt to place Dede on the only bed not covered in outfits. She instantly grabs the edge of a blanket and rolls herself up, squishing her wings to her back.

I carefully close the dollhouse and step away.

The house sits in utter stillness. There isn’t a creak of wood or hum of electricity. The only sounds are my breath and the pounding of my heart.

This is what I feared—the silence. It’s deafening and ready to consume me.

Needing to rest and end the day so I can wake refreshed and ready to plan, I open my bedroom door. The light from the alley window shines inside, casting an ambient glow over the room.

My bed rests against the far wall, with a desk on the opposite side. There is not a spot of dust, but nothing has changed, not even the linen sheets. I spin around to the dresser and grab a long sleep shirt. It’s one I stole from the twins, whose names I refuse to utter as I slip it over my head and remove my bra.

I peel the cap off my head, revealing my natural red curls. They tumble over my shoulders in barrel curls full of frizz and sass. Again, the itch to color my hair almost overwhelms me. I’ll leave it natural for a little longer. I did like the black wig, but until I can settle on a color, I’ll leave it as is unless Dede wants to glamour me.

The dresser drawer slams shut, and I crawl toward my bed. The sheets glide over my skin, welcoming me into their silky smooth midst. A feeling of home rushes over me.

For a moment, I allow myself to wonder why I put off coming back for so damn long. My eyes close as my head hits the pillow, and a soft exhale flutters the strands of my hair.

Before I can fall asleep, my phone buzzes beside me. My hands slap at the side table, and I almost knock it down. Blinking my tired eyes, I see it’s my favorite john. Did I mention I worked the phone sex lines? I only kept one guy, though, because I liked his cultured voice. Normally I’d answer, but I’m too exhausted, so I decline his call and make a mental note to call him back later.

“Light,” I grumble, realizing I forgot to close the blinds.

I have a smart house now, so the blinds shut tight. My eyes grow heavy, and I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Thank Hecate, because dreams are full of hope. I prefer reality and that which I can touch.

Chapter 3

Pepper

“It might seem crazy what I’m about to say,” I sing as I slide into the kitchen Tom Cruise style. “Pixie, you are here. Let’s eat some cake.” I grab a wooden spoon out of the drawer and turn around to stalk Dede, who’s hovering in the middle of the kitchen with wide, expressive eyes.

“You spiked your Cheerios?” She flits to the ceiling and then back down to the sink to avoid me. There, she sniffs my bowl. “Nothing.”

“I’m a hot ass witch that could go to space.”

“Please don’t. I’d have to find you, and I don’t want to do that.” Her pixie dust flutters to the floor in shades of yellow, showing her irritation at my happiness. “I’m far too lazy.”

Undeterred, I continue to dance around the kitchen like the wicked witch I am. “With the air.” I fling my wrist and watch as my magic spins Dede in a circle. Red glitter spills everywhere. “Like I don’t care.” I slide in close to my little friend. “Pixie, by the way.” My voice drops to a smoky tenor that brings all the ghoulies to my honey trap.

“I hate you.” She marches across the countertops, leaving little footprints of red glitter along the way.

I drop my microphone in the sink and spin around, heading for the mud room. Well, it isn’t a mud room anymore. It is now Pepper’s Apothecary. Just opening the door brings me a sense of fulfillment I haven’t felt in eons.

Shelves line the walls with little jars of freaking everything, and in the middle of the room is a butcher block island. I almost wondered why Artie kept the rooms separate when so many are opting for open floor plans these days, but then I figured it out.

“It’s bombproof!” I exclaim and spread my arms wide.

“Goodness, we cannot have you blowing yourself up, now can we?” Dede quips dryly.

“We sure can’t.” It’s beautiful. Not only are the kitchen and mud room renovated, but they are also a witch’s dream come true. Glinda need not apply.

“What’s on the agenda, oh masterful one?” She lands beside a jar with eyeballs. Her enormous eyes blink at them as they turn to look at her one by one. “They are watching me, baby spice.”

“Yes, they are,” I reply. “Isn’t it incredible?” I ascend the ladder typically used in a library and climb up to look at the jar. “Look at them just watching us.” I read the label. “Demon eyes.”

“I’m not impressed with your mood or the eyes.” Dede flutters away to the opposite shelf. Today, she’s wearing little leggings and a crop top. No shoes, but she has a sheath for her little knife. “Do we have a plan today?”

“Do you have plans?” I counter and hop off the ladder. Outside, the afternoon sun slowly inches toward the horizon. October means the days don’t last as long as I’d like. I slept all day—okay, until noon—and woke oddly refreshed, and there is no damn good reason to spoil the mood.

“Nope.” She avoids my gaze.

“Liar.” I march my ass to the front of the house. Dressed in my finest battle gear of leather pants, shit kickers, and a leather vest that makes my tits look like they deserve a medal, I am ready to face the day.

Or rather night.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Dede stops me at the front door. Her little hands wave all around me, and pink glitter spills from her as her empathy rises.

“Because I am opening the bar.” I stand tall, taller than average in my boots, but I control my heartbeat and keep my chin up.

She knows how big of a step this is, and the fact I’ve rendered my chatty little friend mute speaks volumes.

“I don’t know if that’s a great idea,” she says slowly. “We can figure out another way to pay the bills. You don’t have to do this.”

“You are right. I don’t.” I won’t second-guess myself, so I push past Dede and out into the breezeway. When I step outside into the mid-October day, I gulp down a lungful of the crisp and clean air to steady myself. “The guys usually opened at three Tuesday through Saturday.”

“Pepper, it’s Sunday.” Dede dives into my hair, which I left natural. Between the frizz and the curls, she hides well in plain sight.

Usually, I go all out and style my hair in barrel curls she can hide in, but we are only walking mere feet to the bar, so she will be just fine. If anyone asks, then I’ll play dumb or tell them I have a Barbie in my hair, even if she looks more like a Bratz doll.

“It is Sunday. Therefore, I have a few hours to get this place into tip-top shape.” Nerves flutter in my stomach as I stare at the steps and the door. The large glass windows are shadowed from cardboard taped on the inside. The once pristine paint peeled long ago, leaving lettering standing out just so against the rest of the glass. “I figure I’ll go in, open up, and see if anyone stops by. Maybe I can hire a few people.”

“You’re stalling,” Dede mutters in my hair while tugging a strand to get me moving. I keep my feet planted despite the burn she created on my scalp.

A small metal sign hangs from the doorframe without a bar name. “I’ve decided on a name,” I tell Dede as I walk up, pulling the key from a pocket in my vest. Of course it’s a fancy key, one of those skeleton ones. I found it on my dresser this morning with a little name tag addressed to me and the word bar written on the back.

“Oh yeah?”

I jam the key in the lock and listen as it disengages and the wards on the door wake up. A feeling like cobwebs ghosts over my skin, tugging at the hair on my arms as magic slides over me. For a moment, I think it will shock me and throw me on my ass.

“Whatcha doing there, sweetheart?”

I scream and drop the skeleton key. I feel Dede laughing at me in my curls, and I almost shake her out as I turn around slowly to find my nosy neighbor standing on the sidewalk.

Wearing white linen from head to toe and a dramatic straw hat with a single red ascot around his neck, he slowly fans himself, peering at me through the thick-rimmed glasses sitting on his round face. He’s adorable in an older gentleman sense, but I’ve got a feeling he’s going to be a thorn in my side.

“I said,” he drawls in an embellished Southern accent that I’m not sure is even real, “what are you doing?”

Licking my lips, I compose myself and step down until we are level. Well, almost level. I’m not even sure this man is five feet tall. “Opening the bar.”

“Oh, are you?” He tilts his head to the side and purses his anemic lips.

“Sure am, Mister…”

“Jordan,” he replies. “Garrett Jordan.” His rolled Rs rival Nikko’s. “Draw the middle out, and you’ve said it right.”

“Well, Mr. Jordan, I’m Pepper.”

“I know who you are, missy.” He takes a few steps closer, and the back of my neck cricks as I look down at him.

Is this how the twins felt looking down at me? That’s not odd at all.

I give him a slow nod, and once more, I feel Dede chuckling. “Have we met?” I ask flippantly.

“Nope, but the twins warned me you’d eventually show up, and here you are, ruining my afternoon by entering the bar on a Sunday.” He rolls his lips inward, not impressed with my brand of dismissiveness.

He started it.

Ignoring the bit about the twins, I say, “Alright, Mr. Jordan. It was lovely to meet you.”

“Well, aren’t you going to open the door and invite me in for a drink?” he retorts.

“Sir, the bar has been closed for nearly two years.” I glance back at the boarded up windows and the cobwebs in the corners.

“Magic, my little witch.” He grunts and pushes past me, heading right for the door. “Come on, before your little pixie falls out of your hair from laughing too hard.”

“Who the hell is he calling little?” Dede mutters.

Shaking my head, I stomp up the steps behind the tiny man and push ahead of him to open the unlocked door.

Again, the wards brush over my skin, and the runes light up along the frame—something I never noticed before despite the hundreds of times I’ve come in here.

Dust particles tickle my nose as I flip the light on and step inside the bar. As the lights turn on, one by one, it’s like an anvil drops on me, and all the air rushes from my lungs.

Nothing has changed. Nothing at all. To the right is the long cherry wood bar with all the stools in place, still pristine. The room is lined with tables, and the kitchen door sways slightly as I push the front door shut, cutting off the current we created when we opened the door. The boarded up window on the left vanishes.

The ghosts of the twins, Nikko, and I rise before my eyes for only me to see.

Connor lifts me to set me on the bar top, Donovan glances at me from beneath his lashes as he wipes down the bar, and Nikko sits in a corner, his whiskey glass untouched in front of him as he scowls at everyone.

I can even imagine a younger me in the back singing karaoke in all my tone-deaf glory.

My eyes burn with unshed tears, and I glance to the ceiling, refusing to let them fall. I am a bad witch and the ruler of my fate. Blowing out a breath and stifling a sniffle, I rip the cardboard off the door and toss it into the middle of the room.

Dede rises to the rafters, where long beams of wood make up the ceiling. “Not bad for sitting for so long,” she murmurs. “I can make an entire separate bar up here for pixies.”

“Don’t turn the rafters into a brothel, De.” I rip down the last of the cardboard and turn around to find Garrett dragging chairs from the tables while whistling. “You don’t have to help, you know.” I’m not even sure I want him here, especially since he knew I was a witch with a pixie hiding in her hair. I thought I was stealthier than that.

“Oh, I know that,” the small spicy man mutters—a man that I’m guessing is no man at all.

I’m just not sure I even want to know what he is. From the rumor mill, I’ve learned that Greek men and monsters aren’t the only things that lurk in the shadows. He could literally be anything, which is the primary reason I don’t thank him.

Learned that lesson once.

“I appreciate your presence.”

He pauses and slowly lifts his head to smile at me. Sharp, stained teeth slip between his pale lips, and I freeze, trying to keep an unaffected mask on my face.

I’m totally freaking out inside though. What the hell is this man? Shuddering, I turn away and head for the kitchen.

“You’ll have a line all the way around the block. I guarantee it,” he says as I pass, making me pause once more. “I’ll work for you, for a price.”

I blink at the little man as Dede plops her ass on my shoulder. “Oh?”

“If he wants to fuck you, I’m uploading that shit to Only Supes,” Dede whispers.

This time, I flick her off my shoulder. “What kind of price?”

He casually leans on the counter with that pointy smile. “You do not know what the twins did here, do you?”

“Ran a bar?” I say slowly, because I realize I know nothing about their lives outside of me, myself, and I.

Nothing at all.

He presses a hand to his chest and laughs. “Oh no, deary, that isn’t all they did.” He chomps his teeth, and I’m about to snuff out his life when the door chimes.

Without looking, I say, “We aren’t open.”

“That implies you are opening.” Nikko’s smooth voice ghosts over me, and I close my eyes. Dammit, I started this afternoon out so damn happy.

“Nik.” I plaster on a fake-ass smile and turn to him.

“Brought your bike home.” He glances around the bar with a rueful smile. “So, you’re taking up the mantle.”

“What mantle?” I ask slowly, because I’m about to murder the twins. “They left me a bar.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, by using that key, you agreed to be the witchy version of a peacekeeper.”

My heart stops at the little man’s words.

“Excuse me?” I almost stutter, because my heart is thumping a million miles a minute. “What did you say?”

I am a black witch, not that I know how I ended up as a black witch, but I’m not the peacekeeper type. Not even Nikko knows why my magic is black, and Hecate refused to tell me a damn thing.

I know that if given a choice between right and wrong, I will blur the line until it’s murky.

“You didn’t know?” Nikko looks alarmed.

Nothing alarms this human. I turn around, grab a chair, and flop down before falling. Paper flutters from the rafters, along with dark blue pixie dust. Dede is in logic mode. At least one of us is.

“Did you read this at all?” Dede shrieks, and papers swirl in the air with her impending tantrum. Where the hell did she find these?

I snatch one out of the air and read the header, Ownership of property at… I stop reading. “CliffsNotes, someone give me the CliffsNotes!” I yell to anyone willing to listen.

“I already told you.” The little man rolls his eyes. “With that key, you thee wed.”

“Wed?” My inner introvert with commitment issues screams internally.

“Maybe that’s too dramatic of a word.” He taps his lips and then pulls off his straw hat. “The twins were this region’s peacekeepers.”

“Bunny, they didn’t just run a bar.” Nikko slides a stool out and sits down.

“I would think not,” Garrett exclaims. “They kept the humans in the dark.”

“I did that.” Nik snorts.

“With help,” Garrett replies, and my eyes just ping-pong between the two of them. “They also listened to the grievances of the community.”

“Community?” My voice squeaks as Dede buzzes around the rafters like a stressed-out honeybee.

“Oh yes. The other community.” He gives me a prolonged wink, only his lashes stick together, and he has trouble opening his eye.

“It’s right there in the contract.” Dede flies down and sticks a paper under my nose, then she smacks me with it. “Right there, spice girl! Right. There. Use the key to the front door of the bar and you accept peacekeeper responsibilities. This is not what I meant when I said we needed to earn more money.”

“Oh, you won’t earn much money, sweetheart,” Garrett drawls.

Giving in, I thunk my head against the table. “This cannot be happening.”

“What?” Dede screeches.

“Here,” Nikko says. I roll my head to the side, curious about what he’s up to. His thick thighs carry him behind the bar, where he pulls down a teardrop bottle and pours a little into a shot glass. “This will help calm you, De.”

My heart melts. That’s Nik, my angel. Always looking out for someone else.

De, my insane little pixie, sticks her entire head in the shot glass. Nikko grabs her little body and pulls her out before she gets stuck.

“Don’t do that.” I stand, feeling unsteady, only it’s too late. Dede slices his knuckles with her knife.

“The hell?” He drops her on the countertop and moves away. He should have just left her there.

“She’s done for the night.”

The honey disappears in a blink, and she removes her head. An obnoxious burp barks out of her, and she falls to the bar top, out like a light.

“Well…” Garrett clutches invisible pearls. “She just drank the equivalent of an elephant tranquilizer.”

“She’s okay. I’ve seen her drink more than that.” I remember a night a year ago when we all camped out at Gran’s, and I snuck over here and grabbed a barrel of fae mead. “Hey.” I snap my fingers. “I was here and stole mead.”

“Did you use the key?” Garrett drawls.

“No, I snuck in through a window.”

“There you have it.” He spreads his hands before settling them on his hips. “I’ll supervise, but we need to discuss my pay.”

“Reverse uno on the moment, pointy-toothed man.”

“He’s a leprechaun,” Nikko says.

“I beg your pardon!” Garret exclaims. “I don’t recall calling you a dirty Homo sapiens, now do I?”

Nikko steps out from behind the bar. His low-slung jeans are at least a decade old, along with his gray shirt that once must have been black. He’s clearly off duty, but he’s still packing that holster, and damn, he looks good.

Look away, baby spice. Look. Away.

“You have called me a dirty—”

“I would never!” The little guy looks like he might faint.

“Alright, listen.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I cannot believe the twins never warned me about this shit. “What spicy creature are you, Garret?”

“A redcap.” He states with pride.

I glance at Nikko. “Do I want to know what that is?”

Nikko crosses his thick arms, and damn he looks good. “He kills for fun. I know that much.”

“Tell me something, Detective.” Garrett’s little head wobbles as he says the word. “Wouldn’t you kill if you could?”

I can see this going downhill real fast. “Garrett, please tell me what you would like to negotiate.”

“I want my contract back that I had with the twins. When they signed the bar over to you, it ended.”

I say nothing, waiting for him to go on.

“I cleaned up their messes.”

“He ate the dead,” Nikko clarifies.

I nod slowly, because as psychotic as I can be, this moment right here takes the freaking cake. I ask myself once more what the hell I just walked into.

Somewhere in the bar, a clock strikes, and my eyes dart to the wall. It’s only two. I have another hour before the bar opens.

Do I really want to take up this mantle? Whatever that means.

“Well?” Garrett drawls.

“I need to think.” Glancing at my passed out pixie, I dart to the kitchen. The swinging door creaks as I step through. My stomach gurgles, threatening to spill out all of my breakfast, and I stumble forward, clutching the island.

The kitchen is a lot like mine, only they merged the mud room into one giant room. They didn’t serve anything crazy, just typical bar fare, like fries and wings. The onion rings were always my favorite.

My hair hides my face as I hang my head, slow my breathing, and reach for the bad bitch inside me—except she’s at a loss.

I have the house, the garage, and now this, which doesn’t even pay. I won’t give up any of them either, but I could walk away from here. Can I do that? The twins weren’t older brothers to me. I loved them with everything in my soul until they broke my heart. Being here is a reminder of them. It isn’t even my space. There is just one problem, I would never walk away from something they loved.

How am I going to survive?

“I can’t do this,” I whisper and swipe away a rogue tear, irritation humming in my veins.

“They thought you might say that.” Nikko’s velvety voice wraps around me. “Conejita, puedes alejarte.”

I can walk away. That’s what he said. “No puedo. Mi amor por ellos no lo permitirá,” I reply. My love for them won’t allow it.

“Conejita, no love is worth your sanity.” His hand lands on my shoulder, and for a moment, a zap of awareness shoots through me. “The twins will understand.”

“What is a peacekeeper?” I ask him, though what I’m really asking is just what the twins did here, which is something he apparently knew all this time.

Dropping his hand, he grabs an apron from the hook and dips his head through the ties. “I take it you won’t walk away?”

“I can’t,” I admit and grip the other apron. Knowing the guys wore these, I inhale deeply as I throw it over my head, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I’ll catch a hint of their scent. A pit of disappointment floods my belly when I smell nothing more than that fresh linen smell. “I’ve been running for two years, avoiding home and all the baggage that comes with it. No more. I’ve seen what happens to those who run.” My eyes blur as I recount moments over the last two years. “Sabina ran off to find her dad’s murderer, Vanessa ran away from who she was inside, and Kendall?” A lycan who is Sabina’s sister-in-law. “She almost lost everything by running.”

“So don’t run.” Nikko smiles as though something in my words hits him harder than anything else.

“I guess I won’t… for now.”

“Alright.” Nikko leans on the island, his forearms holding up his body. “They took this position to avoid their duties at home.”

Duties like their freaking fiancée.

“And they confided in you?” A human goes unsaid.

“They wanted connections on the PD, and I was it,” he says, even though at the time he was still just a baby beat cop—one they could train.

“And I was the connection between the three of you.” I shake my head, feeling left out. “You could have told me.”

“You were young, and you still are,” he argues.

“You know I spent six months with the amazons, right?” I pull out drawers, shaking my head at the fact that everything is stocked. How? “One month there is the equivalent to three here.”

I catch him off guard, and he sputters before he finally replies, “A year and a half doesn’t give you the knowledge of a decade.”

“No, it doesn’t.” I pull out potatoes, holding one up in question.

“There’s a brownie.”

I blink slowly at him.

“A house brownie. She stocked the kitchen when you showed up yesterday.” He rubs his neck, and his cheeks flush. “She will take over cooking. You’ll need to befriend her, otherwise it’s all you.”

“Right.” I chuck the potato at the wall and enjoy the dent it makes.

“Better?”

“No, you haven’t told me what a peacekeeper is.” I cross my arms in defiance, one eye on Nik and one on the potato on the floor.

“Fine, the bar is a magical neutral zone. The only one who has power here is you.” He dips his head, side-eyeing the potato, then looks back at me as though my outburst wasn’t necessary. I check off making a mess to summon a brownie. It’s ineffective. “Immortals from all regions would show up and ask the twins for help. They’d weed through most of them by just listening to what they needed. They gave advice here and there, and sometimes, they took on jobs to keep the peace between races.”

“I’m not built for this.” I shake my head and drop my voice. “All the twins know is that I’m a human with a goddess for a grandma. Even so, I have no significant power, I’m just a witch.” They hoped I had magic when my father left me a coin with Hecate’s emblem on the front—the very one that hides in my bra now. I did have magic, and I do. I kept it from them until I learned more about myself, something I’m still working on. Timing is everything.

“I think,” he begins, and that is when we both realize just how close we are, “that is why they gave you the bar. You can do this, Conejita.”

“Don’t call me that.” I pull away, already regretting sliding the key in that lock. The stubborn part of me won’t allow me to just walk away.

“You will always be my Conejita,” he whispers just as the potato rolls across the floor.

Damn brownie. I grab a fresh basket of potatoes. “One week,” I tell him.

“There’s one more thing,” he says hesitantly, as though this fact will change everything.

Razor blades slice at my stomach. “What’s one more caveat?”

This time, he looks like he’s going to choke on his words. “You’ll have to work with me,” he blurts, then holds up a hand. “I know what I said last night, and I stand by that, except I’m the detective at the precinct for the other unit. Shit comes across my desk that I can’t explain. I might need you to explain it to me without you putting yourself in danger. I know some things, but I’m still very much human.” He glances down, then out the back door, his muscles taut. “Is that something you can do, Conejita?”

No. A white lie falls from my lips anyway. “Of course.” I shrug and hide my smile. “Down to forty-five minutes. Let’s get this shit show started.”

I take off toward the cellar because I’m only fooling myself. Nikko feels like home. He smells like home. And although I’ve only shared one kiss with him a long time ago, I know he tastes like home.

I’m so screwed.

Chapter 4

Pepper

“Rub ’em harder, Liam,” Sabina scolds. “Oh yeah, right there.” Her long moan has me pulling the phone away from my ear. Pregnant with twins, she’s miserable, and I’m sure very round. The guys take turns massaging her swollen feet, hence the groaning.

“Focus, Bean. The bar opens in five minutes, and there really is a line wrapping around the block.” I swallow back my nerves and peek out the back door again. People are lining up down the street. I pull back as quickly as I can just to avoid any kind of eye contact.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles. “I’ll have to send someone to pick up your jacket. Can’t you just ask Nik to, you know, give it back?”

“He’s the one who took it from me,” I whisper harshly into the phone. Nik is behind me, having spent the last hour prepping bar food.

On his day off.

That’s not love, it’s friendship, I lie to myself.

“Bummer. I’ll have to send Ash.” Her sigh crackles the phone. “Right now, we are on lockdown up here. I’m not even teleporting. Otherwise, this wouldn’t be an issue. The guys really don’t know when I’ll go into labor, so they have locked me in the cabin, which is fine. It’s fine.”

“Sounds a whole lot like it isn’t fine.” I lean against the wall that leads into the cellar to at least give me the illusion of privacy.

“Liam’s been baking and nesting. I’m getting plump.” Another sigh.

“The babies are getting plump,” I correct.

“That too.” She pauses, and the air charges a little. “So, you are home?” There is a whole hell of a lot of insinuation in her tone.

“This will require a sleepover.” I hang my head. “I can’t even explain everything to you right now.”

“Nikko is there?”

I glance at the man before answering, ensuring he isn’t watching me like I’m watching him. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And what?” I hiss. “He’s seeing someone.”

“I do not accept that.”

“It isn’t for you to accept.”

“Like hell it isn’t.” I can hear the hormones take over as indignation spills from her lips. I swear she was a pixie in a past life. “He is yours.”

“Oh, would you look at that,” I squeak. “Duty calls.”

“This conversation isn’t over.”

“Sure it is,” I quip. “I sent you a care package.”

“No.” I can feel her horror over the line.

“Should arrive in a few days at the post office.” I grip the phone a little tighter, because the package isn’t at all what she’s expecting.

“You know I can’t do the sexy times forever after the babies come, and right now, I have to roll to move around like a damn blueberry.” Exasperation bleeds into her voice.

“I know,” I coo, amusement in my tone. “Got to go, love you!” I hang up.

“What did you send her?” Nikko glances up from slicing fries, a wicked smile on his face.

“Eavesdropping isn’t a good look on you, Nik.” Dammit, he heard everything.

“Your care packages are notorious.” He points a knife at me. “You sent one to my brother and sister-in-law.”

I give him an indifferent shrug because I sent them a care package for their wedding. “They didn’t like the towels?”

“You know damn well I’m not talking about the towels.” He slices a fry a little too hard. “You hid shower toys under the towels, Pepper.”

“I did?” I play dumb. His sister-in-law called me later to express her thanks. She freaking loved that basket, and now she’s one of my regulars.

“What did you send Sabina?”

Tightening my apron, I cave because it’s Nikko, and dammit, I have a soft spot for him. “I was good, but I sent her some of her favorite dick pasta.”

“Dios mío, Conejita.” He hangs his head, but his shoulders shake as he laughs.

“I also sent a birthing basket full of her favorite snacks, witch hazel, a few healing potions, pain meds, a birthing ball, some ice pads…” I snap my fingers. “And potions for the guys to remain calm and birth on.”

“What is really in the potion?”

“You know me too well.” I try to hide my smile. “It’s a shared pain potion.”

“Shared pain, Pepper? Tell me you didn’t.”

“They can totally handle the pain of birth.”

“They are men!”

“Lycans,” I correct. “Why should the woman be the only one in pain? It’s so much easier this way.”

“Did you at least leave Sabina a note telling her what that potion really is?” He leans on the island, giving me a judgmental look that I don’t appreciate.

“Yes.” I lean against the door to the bar, not meeting his gaze.

“You hid it behind the label, didn’t you?”

“When did you read the book on all things Pepper?” I toss up my hands, because how?

He shrugs as a blush heats his face. “I just know you.”

Warmth spreads through my chest, and I look away. “Stalker,” I whisper and press through into the bar, cutting off that conversation before it mutates into flirting. “Alright, Garrett, how are we looking?”

I find the little man sipping tea in the corner booth with Dede across from him. It’s an odd sight, but as I walk across the room, I pause.

Sure, it’s strange seeing a pixie and a redcap deep in conversation while they sip tea, but the scene causes a sense of rightness to pulse through me. This feels right. It feels good.

“Well, deary…” Garrett sets down his cup. “It’s your show. Open up.”

I swallow down my nerves. I’ve never really been one to overthink something. If it feels right, I go for it. If not, I turn around and run away. I’ve never done this before, and as adrenaline floods through me, I rip open the door with a smile on my face.

“Well, to Pepper’s Potions.” As I say the words, they appear on the sign out front.

The woman in front of me raises a brow and snorts. “That is a horrible name for a bar.”

“Aren’t you a fucking peach?” I wink and turn around, heading behind the bar and taking up my space. Beneath me, the squishy mat assures me I won’t hate my feet by the end of the night. I’ve bartended in the past, but not for long, so this is going to be a learning curve.

I watch as the woman walks in and the runes glow. Her appearance transforms from human to something… more. Her skin turns translucent, and although she was tall upon entering, she appears thinner with pointy ears. She takes up a table in the corner and sits with a grace I could never achieve.

I’m going to need a handbook of all things spicy.

More follow behind her, each transforming as they walk through the door. My jaw drops as I take in the crowd.

“I’ve never seen this before,” I mutter more to myself than anyone.

Nikko steps up beside me. “The runes read you and your knowledge level. When you were young, you did not know this world existed, so the magic kept you from seeing it.”

“And you?” I side-eye him.

“I see them all for who they are.” He looks at me with one of those looks, the one where he doesn’t just see me, but gets me.

“You see too much, Nik.” I grind my teeth and look away, all while reminding myself that he isn’t mine.

Maybe I can find a sexy stud to ease the ache in my core later, and if not, I’ve been meaning to try out a few new products I just got in.

“Showtime.” He nudges me. “I’ll take that end. You take the head. Once we hit max capacity, you’ll have to make an announcement about who you are, your hours, and maybe what you plan for the future.”

Again, nerves flutter in my stomach. “How did they all know?”

“I don’t question the magic, Bunny.” He winks and grabs a rag, tossing it over his shoulder.

“Thank you.” I hear a few gasps in the crowd, alerting me to the amount of fae in my bar. Oops.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” As a blush rises in his cheeks, he jerks his head to the side.

Turning around, I find what I think is an average-looking man, but I’m certain he is anything but. I’m unsure if it’s correct to just flat-out ask people what they are, so I keep my lips sealed and give him a smile.

He’s built like a rock. Literally, like The Rock. His muscles bulge, and his bald head shines in the light. His skin is a deep brown, and his eyes have a ring of red around the irises.

My tongue itches to know what he is. Instead, I ask, “What can I get for you?”

“You’re the new peacekeeper?” he asks, and his voice sounds as if Darth Vader had a baby with Brad Garrett, the guy from that show with his brother and meddling mother. What the hell was the name? Everybody Loves Raymond! He also holds himself very still. He barely blinks, and it’s moderately disturbing.

“I am.” I cross my arms and lean on the counter because I feel this guy doesn’t rush. Ever.

“When will the interviews begin?”

I tilt my head and lean back, unsure where he’s going with this. “Interviews?”

“Oh my, forgive her.” Garrett hops up on the stool beside him as the bar becomes almost too full. “She just opened the door with not a plan in place.”

“Chaotic,” the larger man grumbles.

“Yes. I thrive on chaos.” An idea strikes me. “What job do you want?”

“You do not know what he is, do you?” Garrett chuckles, and I wonder if I shouldn’t just kill the annoying man now or at the end of the night. “Oh, this is going to be glorious.” He jumps off the stool, giggling, and waddles back to his little corner with a chuckling Dede.

“Traitor,” I call to her. “No more honey,” I hiss before focusing on the giant before me. “Look—”

“Fable. You may call me Fable, peacekeeper.”

“Right, Fable. I did not know what I was getting into, so I’m kind of winging this. Tell me your skill set and get to it if you want a job. At the end of the night, if you like it here and I like you, then show up tomorrow at two.”

“I cannot do two daily.” He pauses before confessing, “I wake at sunset.”

“Okay,” I say, glancing out the window at the fading October sun. It’s still early in the afternoon, but it will be dark in a few scant hours. “So, sunset. How are you here now?”

“Magic.” He winks before sliding off the stool. “I accept your offer.” He steps away and heads back out the door and down the steps, where he pauses, crosses his arms, and…

“Holy dildos!” I lean across the quiet bar as Fable turns to stone. “That’s so cool.”

I hear Nikko chuckling as he pulls me off the bar and leans down to whisper in my ear. “From what I hear, gargoyles rarely get a call to find a new dwelling to protect. The twins never had one.” He pulls away and heads back to his corner, leaving that little bomb to explode in my head.

I was not prepared.

Schooling my features, I grab a stool and stand on it. “Hear ye, hear ye!”

“This ain’t the dark ages, witch!” someone yells.

“It’s about to be if you don’t shut the hell up,” I retort. I glance over to Nikko for support, who stands at my side with his arms crossed. It takes a few moments, but the crowd quiets. I do not know what to say or how to even begin, so I start with the essential bits. “I’m going to need some help. Especially” —I emphasize that word— “if I’m to help you all out. I’d love to have at least three bartenders and three servers to rotate throughout the week. The twins opened at three, and I’ll keep to it. I’m closing Tuesday and Wednesday, and I don’t know about you, but I love a Sunday fun day.”

Shouts urge me on, and I scan the some forty odd patrons inside. Glancing outside, I see the full picnic tables as others mill about on the sidewalk.

“If you want a job, come to the bar to see me. If you want a drink, see Nikko here.” I hook a thumb in his direction. “If you hate the atmosphere by the end of the night and never want to come back, no hard feelings. If you love it, show up tomorrow at two.” I blow out a breath and end on, “Let’s drink!” I wobble a little as I step down but easily steady myself. One week, right?

Oh, who the hell was I kidding?

I head to the corner of the bar and wait. An immense crowd descends on Nikko, and he moves like a well-oiled machine, slinging drinks. I’m just about to imagine him shirtless and oiled when a shadow moves to my left.

Bracing myself, I look over to find a woman who’s a little younger than me. There are dark circles under her eyes, and a weariness in her movements that doesn’t belong there. She is the only one who moved to my side of the bar, and while beggars can’t be choosers, she doesn’t look like she could stand for over five minutes, let alone until last call.

I narrow my eyes and raise a brow at her.

“I know what you see,” she says, her voice a breathy whisper. She folds her hands under her, her thin, honey blond hair lying limply around her shoulders.

“Enlighten me.” I step back and eye my shelves, thankful for the brownie I have yet to befriend and the packed shelves holding powders that belong in my apothecary. By instinct, I grab one and the orange juice. Virgin mimosa with a vitamin blend.

“My…” She pauses, debating her words. “Master.”

I stop her right there. “We are about to enter some Buffy bullshit, aren’t we?”

“If I told you yes?”

I shake my head and slide her drink toward her. “Drink it. It’s on me.”

She swallows and nods, and with a burst of speed, she yanks the drink toward her. With the first sip, she moans, and I’m about to grab a bat off the shelf and take out her master.

“Don’t look at me like that. I chose this life.” She wipes juice off her chin, and I grab her empty glass, deciding to make another drink.

“How about I tell you what I think, and you let me know if I hit the nail on the head?” I hum at her as I begin to make another drink. “By the pale skin you’ve got going on there, I first thought vampire, only it isn’t sundown just yet. Your hair is honey gold with natural highlights, so you spend time in the sun. There are punctures on your neck and bruising on your arms. Not only are you anemic, but you’re also malnourished.” I slide the drink back to her, hardening myself against the tears in her eyes. “Blood slave?”

“It’s a crude term,” she whispers and sips her drink again. Color already flushes on her face.

I pick up the tin of powder and read the bottom. Pepper’s Apothecary. “Well, shit.” I know for a damn fact I did not make this. I will replicate it somehow though.

“Once I saw you, I knew I’d have to brace myself against what you see.” She sips and avoids my gaze, instead opting to look at the entire room. “My master wants to meet you.”

“Why?” I drum my fingers on the countertop, trying to figure out the woman before me.

“Why do you think there are still people waiting to get in here? They all fear you, and yet they have an innate curiosity to know you. Even from a distance.”

“Is that why no one is coming up for a job interview?” My drumming picks up, and I squint at the room, feeling offended. I’m totally approachable. Fear need not apply.

“They don’t know you or where you stand. The twins ran this bar for ten years. It became a sanctuary for us.” She smiles an authentic smile, and damn, it changes her entire face, lighting up her features and pushing past her sunken skin and allowing her dimples to pop free. “Only you hold power here. The rest of us? We are null the moment we enter those doors.”

Oh, I am so suspicious right now.

“What’s your name?”

“Cassandra.” She finishes her drink, and a blush rises to her cheeks for the first time.

“How are you with bussing tables?”

“You want to give me a job?”

“Why not?” I lean back on the counter, an idea forming in my head. If no one comes to me, I’ll just have to hand select my minions. “The way I see it, your master wants to get to know me, and you need a break from your blood daddy.”

She snorts, and laughter spills out of her mouth in a barking seal noise.

“You aren’t what I expected tonight.” She nods as though I passed some test. “Alright, show me the kitchen.”

“Not quite.” I go to turn around and somehow find a plate of fries sitting on the lower bar just waiting for me. Where the hell is that brownie? “Eat.” I push the fries across the bar to her and then the ketchup.

Her dull eyes brighten to a brilliant blue. Oh yes, I’m going to have words with her master. Just thinking the word makes me want to hack him up into little vampire bites and feed him to Garrett.

“You’ll be good at the job, you know,” Cassandra says around a mouthful of fries.

“Why is that?”

“You just met me, and you already want to fight on my behalf.” She smacks her lips against the tang of the ketchup. “Immortals don’t care about us humans.” She points a fry at me. “You do though.”

“Eat your fries, Cassie.” I nod at her plate. “All of them. Bins are in the back.”

“Point proven.”

With a rueful smile, I turn away and take in the crowd. Most are waiting to get drinks from Nikko, and I give them space. Let them get to know me and learn my intentions through my actions. That is the only way I’ll gain their trust.

Stepping a little closer to Nik, I lean against the back wall. I brace myself by placing my palms on the ledge behind me. The light fades to night, and somehow the crowd swells more. The door has been stuck open the entire time, and after an hour, no one comes to me. Cassie heads to the back and comes out with even more color on her face, wearing an apron and getting right to work.

A familiar face walks up the steps and into the bar. Dressed in all black, and wearing army fatigues and a weary expression behind dark, black-rimmed glasses, Ash sits before me, her bouncy brown curls kissing her freckled cheeks. Though we are cousins, her father was all human. Artemis gifted her the ability to shoot any object she aims at. It’s her blessing. She took that ability and ended up as an asset to the government.

She can do better, except it isn’t for me to say.

A moment later, Vanessa steps in wearing a white sundress in the fall. She looks like a child with her long brown hair touching her waist and big brown eyes. Nessa is the definition of never trust a book by its cover, something a few patrons sense as they step away from her with wide, terrified eyes. She may look like a hippie ready to make love, not war, but in reality, she’d eat anyone who pisses her off and add a little barbeque sauce on top.

No lie, I’ve seen her do it. She is a dragon in sheep’s clothing.

I’m thrilled to see them, so much so that I almost hop over the bar. Instead, I put on my best customer service smile and lean on the bar. “What’ll it be, ladies?”

“This is so exciting!” Vanessa exclaims, earning a few looks from those around her. She also gains a bigger circle where no one dares to touch her.

“You are freaking patrons out.” Ash nudges her. “Margarita.”

I set about making two of them our go-to drink.

“Oh no, Pepper is doing that all on her own.” Nessa smiles with malice. See? Scary bitch.

“So…” I pour their drinks into sugar, not salt, rimmed glasses and push them across. “While I love that you are here on opening night…” I quiet my voice. “Did you know?”

“Not until we got the message,” Nessa says with a smile on her face, one that hasn’t left her face since she bonded with her mates—four of which are gods or god spawn, and one is a reaper. As a unit, they rule hell.

Literally.

“Message?” Screw it, I pour myself a drink.

“Ah, yeah, the moment you put the key in the door, all residents or former residents of the region got a formal letter.”

“That’s some Hogwarts shit right there.” I sip my drink, only for it to taste like water. “The fu—”

“Can’t drink on duty.” Nikko leans into my space, smelling like spilled drinks and sinfully grave decisions. All too soon, he’s gone, and I’m left staring at my glass with puppy dog eyes.

“Soon, my love.” I pet the tequila bottle.

“Yeah, so we wanted to stop and show our support,” Ash says before muttering, “Among other things.”

Good, Sabina got ahold of her. “I want it back.” It’s literally my favorite leather jacket.

She flutters her hands. “Already done.”

I heave out a sigh of relief.

“They really are afraid of you.” Nessa spins in her chair, startling some guy passing by. She gives him a toothy grin, and he scuttles away.

“If he pees himself, you are cleaning it up,” I tell her and wipe down the bar because I have nothing to do. I’m the big bad scary peacekeeper.

“The note also said it’s a week trial,” Ash says. “They don’t think you’re going to stay.”

“I might not,” I admit, and my brows furrow. “Ash?” I’m silently asking if the twins got that memo.

She sips her drink, ignoring me, and Nessa freezes.

“They know,” Nessa answers over her shoulder.

“Shit!” I curse. “Double penetration shit.”

“Unprepared, and you will,” Nessa points out.

“I mean, is it a bad thing?” Ash asks, referring to the twins and not the shit. “So what if the twins know you finally took over? That was the point, after all.”

“Look, they made their choice—”

“A terrible choice.” Nessa spits fire, and people give her a wider berth.

“It was theirs to make.” I drop my head into my palms. “Stay the night. We can have midnight margaritas.”

“I’m sorry, baby bear.” Ash finishes her drink, already standing. “Duty calls.”

“At least yours allows you to drink on the job,” I grumble.

“Mingle.” She waves her hands around before backing away and out the door, pausing only to eye up Fable.

Mingle, she says.

“I’ll stay, but…” Nessa swivels, and a moment later, Apollo pops up, taking Ash’s seat. Nessa squeals and damn near hops into his lap. His face changes from that of a Roman statue to a lovestruck teenager. If it wasn’t for that look he gives her, I’d kick them both out. He can be a real dick.

“I’ll mingle.” And pout.

“Glass of red, please,” Apollo asks, his voice monotone until he turns back to Nessa.

Nikko is already sliding the glass across, and then he grabs my hand, leading me out of the back of the bar. “You suck at bartending.”

“It’s fine.” I need to mingle anyway… after I kick on the jukebox.

He pushes me out of the back and into the bar proper. “Go.”

Time to figure out what peacekeeper really means.

Chapter 5

Jasper

Balding, sweaty, and reeking of body odor, the despicable man, if one can dare call him that, reaches for the buttons of his silk shirt. Popping one off, he attempts to cool his overheated body. Large pit stains bloom under his arms and only grow larger the longer he sits across from me. I hold my breath to avoid inhaling his stench.

He knows why I’m here.

He knows what I’ve come for.

I sit deathly still in the sticky vinyl booth, bass pounding in my ears and chest from the booming music. My hands are splayed in my lap. I know what he sees, and I take pleasure in that. My entire presence disturbs him, from my unassuming appearance to the clothing I wear.

To anyone in here, I’m just another perverted guy in a booth. My hoodie dips low over my eyes, casting my olive skin in shadow. I hide my face from view due to how I wrap those shadows around myself, concealing my very nature. All the other mortals in this shitty hovel see nothing but a shadow in a dark booth.

Except for Teddy here, who’s twitching in his seat across from me. He sees me.

Teddy is an evil, bad little man, meddling in the lives of those he shouldn’t even know exist.

Controlling them.

Manipulating them.

Fucking them against their will.

Like I said, Teddy here is a bad man.

His tongue swipes across his lips, and I sense the moment he thinks he can manipulate me. He truly believes that his will is going to work on me. It’s written in how he smiles, his lips stretching across his face, and the gleam in his beady little eyes.

It won’t work. I can see into his soul, not to mention I want for nothing, and there is nothing on this godforsaken hellhole called Earth that will ever give me peace.

The gods spawned me for one purpose and one purpose only, but that is a story for another day.

Spreading his hands out, Teddy gives me that smile he’s perfected in the boardroom. His eyes dart around the bar to see if anyone is paying him any mind. They aren’t. He can sit here and talk to himself all he wants.

“Look,” he begins. Damn, this ought to be fun. I refrain from smiling because that only terrifies them more, and I want to play with my meal before I consume him. “I have a business meeting in twenty minutes. Can we wrap this up?”

I tilt my head to the side. It’s nearly one in the morning, if the mortal sundial is anything to go by, and a meeting at one in the morning screams of dirty deeds.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says, and I raise a brow he doesn’t see. “It’s late for a meeting.” He licks his chapped lips. “It’s imperative I get there, you see. There’s a new player in town that could destroy all we’ve worked toward.” Desperation leaks off of him, tinging the air and making my stomach grumble.

Still, I say nothing, although I wonder who this new player is. I have heard nothing through the whispers of the web. I’ll sit in silence, and he will spill it eventually. I’ve found over the years that the less I say, the more they talk, and when they squeal like little piggies, I can play with them.

I love to play with mortals.

The way they bleed… The way they cry…

I shudder with pleasure just imagining stringing up this piece of shit in my warehouse.

What weapon will I use on him?

I lift my hand to pinch my lip. It’s my thinking pose, but it frightens the meat bag across from me. My lips twitch in amusement as I stare at him.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” he hisses, leaning forward. “If I tell you what’s going down, you let me go.”

More desperation kicks his sweat glands into gear. I lick my lips and taste the emotions he’s leaking into the air. Deception. He has no intention of telling me what’s going down, as he so crudely put it.

See, all I ever have to do is sit and wait. My presence alone is enough to terrify the parasites. They don’t belong in our world anyway. That this CEO piece of shit somehow weaseled his way in blows my mind.

Across the room, the music kicks up, and a stripper struts out onto the stage. From the corner of my eye, I watch her silver hot shorts ride up her ass as she turns around and shakes thick globes of muscle.

“Can we leave?” Teddy asks, whispering between us. Most wouldn’t be able to hear him, but I do.

This is where I get my ass into trouble.

One should never play with their food, especially when they are hungry. The problem is, I’m bored, and this asshole has ties to the Philly underground that I don’t know about.

Curiosity won’t kill this cat, but he will get fed.

Now, it isn’t the typical kind of underground that most cities have. We have our fair share of that, like the homeless sleeping on park benches or the shady deals on darkened street corners, but it’s much more sinister than that.

The immortal underground, the one that lurks in the darkest of shadows. It consists of those who deal with the fae, those who peddle drugs made by creatures of nightmares, and those who murder for blood sacrifices. It is our web woven of blood and secrets.

The last decade has been a shit show.

I dissolve into thin air and shoot myself out of the strip club and onto the street. Gentlemen’s club, my dick. Leaning against the filthy brick wall, I wait for my prey. The pack of smokes in my pocket calls to my addiction, and I light one up.

That first drag fills my lungs with a toxic high that I now crave. It won’t kill me.

I can’t die. I’ve tried a few times and gave up after a century.

Teddy takes his good old time, thinking he is above his sins and that I won’t touch him. His ties, though, are why I’m here. I hadn’t planned on feeding tonight, and in fact, I was minding my business, walking down the street, bored out of my damn mind, when I scented him.

The corrupt have a fragrance to them that calls to me. It’s one I just cannot resist. Plus, layered under his mortal coil sat the terror of a siren. It’s hard to terrorize a siren, but he somehow managed it, so I got curious and stalked him for a couple hours, tasting his soul and uncovering his darkest secrets. Damn, are they tasty. I could spend days taking little bites of his soul in my playroom and then spend even more days playing the vigilante I am by eliminating threats.

Those who dwell in the web may praise me, or they may curse me.

Every creature deep below the streets of Philadelphia knows of me. Few have met me and lived to tell about it.

See, the immortal underground is just that. Deep below the city sits a web of tunnels, catacombs, and hidden corridors—a city below a city—with a network of vial creatures and even some neutrals thrown in there making shady deals. They traffic creatures and sell drugs. Everything one could think of is there.

The mortals have something similar called the dark web, which was a title stolen from us, so those who run the web took over the human’s internet version as well.

They do not know the moment they check into it, they get stuck and become prey for those they thought of as nothing more than legend.

I don’t have to keep my nose in their shit, except it’s hard not to when I belong there.

Choose your poison over my label. I don’t care, daemon, demon, daimon. I get hungry, and then I eat. The most delicious meal is a tainted soul. There are versions of what I am all across the world, but at the end of the day, I’m still the same me—a creature mortals fear. They clutch their pearls and pray I won’t jump into their bodies. As if I even would.

I’d rather clean the shit out of the web and feed on their darkness. Hell, they enter on their own accord anyway, so I might as well consume the rot. Many of the higher-ups hate me for it, but they won’t come near me.

I’m a rare gem.

Demons get a bad rep, which is bullshit if you ask me. Once upon a time, an entire kingdom revered me.

Then I died.

That’ll have to wait too, because here comes Teddy. He saunters out of the club in his three-piece suit and dad bod, his head swiveling left then right, not seeing me, not feeling me.

I’ll wait until he feels safe and stalk him from the shadows.

His loafers clap on the sidewalk as he heads to the parking lot, and beeping announces his vehicle. A hybrid, how very noble of him.

I shoot through the trunk’s cracks and hide along the floorboards. The whole car dips as he settles in the driver’s seat. Darkness cascades over me, and I’m already feeling restless. It’s an uncomfortable feeling that I hardly allow to happen, but my gut tells me to wait this out.

No radio fills the interior as he pulls away. No static. There’s nothing until a ringing sound crackles over the speakers.

Foolish mortal.

“What?” barks a voice.

Do I know this one?

“We have a problem,” Teddy says, and I can hear him swallow his saliva. It’s cute that he thinks he is alone and safe.

He isn’t.

“Well?” the other voice drawls, and I realize it’s muffled by one of those voice box things. What the hell are they called? Eh, who cares?

“Jasper visited me at the club.” Teddy’s voice shakes, and he perspires so badly he scents the car with his odor.

He should really get that looked at. It can’t be good for him.

“Jasper,” hisses the voice.

See? I’m either loved or hated.

“Yes, fucking Jasper.”

“Where the hell were you?”

Teddy pauses. Aww, he was out against his daddy and mommy’s wishes. What a lousy minion.

“Dammit, Teddy! You went to the club again, didn’t you?” Crackles split the air. “You will ruin everything. Go home, hide in your bunker.”

“I can’t.” Teddy groans, and fear leaks off of him. “The meeting.”

“Goddamn it, Teddy!” The voice pauses. “You have to go. We do not know who this new neutral is.”

“Are you sure?”

“The peacekeeper just took up her mantle. No one can harm you there. Not even Jasper.” The voice pauses. “Don’t fuck this up, or I will kill you.”

The line goes dead, and I hear Teddy mutter, “Fucking vampires.”

Oh, this night just got even more interesting. Now, do I stay hidden, or do I materialize? Choices, choices.

Staying as a shadow, I enjoy the car ride in relative peace, deciding that I’ll stalk Teddy until the end of the night. Then I will eat him, go home, and feed Pebbles, my kitten.

What? I like the fur ball.

“Fucking hell, it’s still busy,” Teddy murmurs to himself.

Curiosity eats at me, and I peek out the window.

I damn near curse and give myself away.

Shooting through the crack in the door, I zip to the small alleyway I know all too well. As I materialize, I look up to the third-floor window.

She lives there.

I felt her years ago, when her magic flared to life then settled deep in her soul, slumbering. I felt compelled to find her, and I did, except she had a few males protecting her.

This is no coincidence. I don’t believe in those, not since my death at least. Turning slowly, I try to put the redhead out of my mind, but I can’t.

She’s back.

I stalked her once upon a time, until she ran from me.

I won’t lose her again, not until I get another taste of her.

Creeping around the side of the pub, I stick to the shadows. Years ago, the owners tried to keep the peace by becoming the city’s peacekeepers. They were pretty damn good at it, but I still busted through their wards and entered their dwelling.

That’s where I found her. They tucked her away in a bedroom with more wards, but I shattered them.

My shadows reach out and taste the wards hovering around the apartment above the bar, testing their strength. A zap courses up my spine and stabs right into my lower back.

Well, well, well…

Challenge accepted.

“When did you get home?” I whisper to the pub. The twins rushed off, and the bar closed. A few tried to keep it open, and they failed.

Magic bleeds into the very fiber of this dwelling, magic that will only speak to the peacekeeper—the very individual Teddy is intent on watching tonight.

The twins will eat him alive.

Knowing the only way I’ll be able to get in is through the front door, I flip my hoodie down and allow it to dematerialize, leaving me in nothing more than a T-shirt and jeans.

Few have seen my face, so they won’t know who I am.

Stepping around the building, I head past a gargoyle standing outside the pub. His red eyes zero in on me, and I give him a crooked smile before I step through the door, allowing the wards to read me. It’s a simple spell, yet the caster makes it vibrate with power.

Strong and ancient, the power coats my tongue like a rich red wine.

Interesting.

Once inside, music reaches my ears first. It’s nothing like the stripper bar. It’s soothing, with a soul that’s rarely heard—Big Mama Thornton. I hide my pleasure and creep to the right, where a large open space sits just for me. The other side of the bar remains packed while this side is empty.

Teddy also chose this side, sitting at a small table with another human, their heads tilted toward each other, their words hushed. He doesn’t even notice me.

I slide onto a stool in the corner, noting the woman near me. She looks as innocent as they come, yet she is anything but. Tilting my head, I taste her aura. Dragon.

“Baby bear!” she shouts, snapping her fingers to whomever she’s shouting to.

She’s an inebriated dragon. Amusing.

A small body zips over her head, spinning around before crashing into a bowl of peanuts where she shudders and her wings buzz.

“She’s busy!” The pixie rolls and takes the bowl of peanuts with her. Picking one up, she cracks the shell over her knee and digs the peanut out. “Give her a minute,” she says around bites.

“I do not know what you are saying.” The dragon throws up her hands, her eyes bleeding gold. The male beside her places a hand on her nape, taming the beast.

“It isn’t that hard to learn. You are just too lazy,” the small pixie mumbles, kicking a peanut at the dragon. “Like all dragons. Lazy. Lazy. Lazy.”

“You are insulting me again, aren’t you?” The dragon points a talon at the pixie. She doesn’t understand the small being.

That’s when she walks in—my dark little witch. Mine.

She steps behind the bar, her smile lighting up as she grabs the pixie and plops her on her shoulder, quietly whispering to her.

She’s grown. Her pale skin glows with the power of her magic, causing her freckles to stand out even more. Her red hair sits on top of her head, with frizzy curls escaping the hold of a leather tie, and her curves taunt me behind a black apron.

Leather. From head to her sexy little toes, leather clings to curves that make my mouth water. Seeing the hilts of several knives strapped to her thighs sends my dick from semi-hard to raging. I wonder if she would be willing to cut me?

Her pouty lips tease me, desperate for my kisses again.

“Yo, Pep. You have a guy!” the dragon shouts to her friend and points at me.

I hide my smirk. What is this?

Pepper turns to me, her head tilting, and those blue eyes find mine. Caution pulses between us.

Reaching out carefully, I lick her aura, and my face falls with that first taste.

“Peacekeeper.” I don’t intend to whisper the word, but I do. I also rarely make mistakes, and the moment the word leaves my mouth, I know I’ve made one. Chairs scrape behind me.

I jerk around, finding Teddy’s wide eyes, and I smell the fear leaking from him.

“Holy shit.” Teddy stands, knocking over his drink. His friend stumbles over the chair and darts out the front door.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” I warn Teddy.

While I love the chase, a sexy witch sits at the forefront of my mind, and I made promises.

This asshat now knows who I am, and I can’t let that stand.

“Jasper,” he whispers.

His fear burns off, and he follows the opposite path his friend took by darting out the back. They never learn. I shake my head in disappointment. I warned him.

Taking my time, I turn around to an intrigued Pepper. She’s hardly even fazed.

I lean over the bar, and with lightning speed, I grip her apron and drag her close. Ignoring all the shouts around me and the pixie trying to stab me, I pull her toward me.

My mouth rests against the shell of her ear as I whisper, “I promised I’d ruin you in a few years, and that’s a promise I intend to keep.” I nip her ear and pull away. “Don’t wait up.”

I dissolve, shocking the hell out of everyone in the pub.

Yeah, yeah, no magic. They just haven’t realized I’m as old as dirt. Their silly rules don’t apply to me, not when it comes to her.

I take off out of the bar, following the stench of fear. He’s trying to unlock his car in the back parking lot, his body shaking in distress.

“Teddy,” I say, materializing just beside him. Leaning against the car, I scold, “You left a mess for Pepper in the pub.”

He shakes as he turns toward me.

“And,” I continue, shoving a metal toothpick between my teeth, “you said my name.”

“Jasper, look.” He holds up his hands. “I can give you anything you want.”

“Begging so soon?” Disappointment hums inside of me.

“Please don’t.”

“Is that what the siren said,” I whisper and lean into his space, enjoying the scent of piss dripping down his leg, “before you raped her, Teddy?”

He turns around, intent on running. He can’t run from my shadows. I snap them out and wrap them around his body like a rope. Lifting him into the air, I grab his keys and pop the trunk.

“Going to tell me who your friend was?” I ask as nicely as I can.

He just grunts and groans, and is that crying? I glance over my shoulder. Yep, he’s crying.

“Last chance,” I sing. He won’t sing though. Not yet. He will try to bargain. They always do.

I shove him in the trunk and snap it shut as he screams. Tossing the keys in the air, I catch them and sigh in disappointment. I would love to keep my promise to Pepper and ruin her.

“You.” I hear the frantic beating of her heart before her words.

Now she can see my face. Even so, I materialize my hoodie and pull it low over my eyes. It’s just a habit. I’m not ashamed of how handsome I am, and I’m not ashamed of the scar that slices diagonally across my features. It’s a cruel twist of fate that I kept the scar of my killing blow.

I turn around, eyeing the witch before me in all her curvy glory.

“You were my first kiss.” I can’t tell if she is scolding me or not. I don’t care what she says as long as she keeps talking. Her voice is a little harsher than other women’s. Grittier. Smokier. It makes my cock even harder than it already was. “You stole it.” She touches her plump lips. “I thought you were my imagination.”

Screams fill the air, and I bang on the trunk. “Hush. The lady is talking.”

“There’s a man in your trunk,” she points out, stepping closer to me.

“No there isn’t.” I smirk, because she damn well saw me put him in there.

“He said your name is Jasper.”

“Do you want to scream it later?” I take two long steps toward her, entering her personal space. I hover over her and wrap us up in my shadows, hiding us from any prying eyes, though I only sense one set.

“What?” She snorts, pressing her hands to my chest. I’m sure it’s to push me away at first, but instead, she grips my hoodie.

“Do you…” I bury my nose in her neck. “Want to scream my name later?”

For a long moment, I think she just might give in… until she knees me in the balls.

Sharp, shooting pain zips through me, and I squeal like a piggie. She backs up as I fall to my knees.

“There’s a man in your trunk,” she says again.

“We’ve established that.” Why does this hurt? I teeter to the side and fall on the pavement.

Footsteps pound until another man skids to Pepper’s side, gun in hand—one he’s aiming at me. What a cute little mortal. He would be fun to play with.

I shouldn’t play with him, but I can’t help it.

I stare at the stars above as I roll onto my back, trying to breathe slowly and steadily.

“Get the fuck up before I shoot you,” he orders in that cop voice of his.

“I remember you.” I roll to the side, press my head into my hand, and lean on my elbow, the pain from my nuts finally subsiding.

“What?” He falters.

I dematerialize, grab his gun, and unload it right there in the parking lot. As I materialize, I hand it back to him.

“Who are you?” Pepper asks, creeping toward the trunk.

“I can’t let you do that.” I swing my head toward her and then back to the cop before me. He smells of the web. Is he a good cop or a bad cop?

“There’s a man in your trunk?” He doesn’t know what to do.

I’m about to break him. “Theodore Reginald Rockefeller.”

His eyes widen. “What?” Horror washes across his face, draining his flesh of all color.

“He’s been a bad, bad sheep,” I whisper just for the cop, and then I baa for good measure. “I’m going to watch him bleed and squeal all his secrets. Want to help?”

“What?”

“Do you say anything else?” I huff, annoyed he didn’t jump at my offer. Good cops are no fun. “I’d love to hang out, but I have a murder to get to and another to track.”

“You’re him, aren’t you?” The cop’s hand falls. “The shadow demon.”

“Boo,” I whisper-shout. He flinches, and I eat that shit up like candy. “Time to go.”

I spin around as Pepper’s hand ghosts over the trunk. A little frown settles on her face. “What did he do?”

“Taste his taint, did ya?”

“Never say that,” she snaps at me. “His taint? Do you even know what a taint is?”

“What, that little strip of skin between the asshole and the balls?” I smirk at her. “As much as I want to stay, I can’t. Like I said earlier, don’t wait up.” I smack a kiss on her cheek and slip into the car faster than she can blink.

“What the—” I hear her curse as I pull away.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I’ll be back all too soon.” She can’t hear my promise, but it doesn’t matter.

I always keep my promises.

Chapter 6

Pepper

“That was sus, right?” I squint my eyes as my shadow hallucination drives off in a car. I’m almost positive it doesn’t belong to him.

“Don’t say sus.” Nikko side-eyes me.

Biting my lip, I spin on a heel and walk back into the bar. It’s nearly two in the morning, and it’s closing time.

Don’t wait up.

Shuffling along the parking lot, I pause and glance back over my shoulder. The car is long gone, and there’s no trace left other than the cloud of exhaust that lingers in the air.

“Don’t.” Nikko pauses behind me. He’s too close.

I avoid his gaze, reaching for the railing that leads up the stairs into the bar. A thought lingers at the back of my head, one I can’t quite shake. Those men looked at my hallucination as though he scares them. “Who is Jasper?”

“Why not leave that for another night?” Nikko suggests, his breath gusting over the nape of my neck. He’s avoiding the question.

I step up on the first step leading to the back door and turn to him, one hand on my hip and the other on the railing. From here, I am taller than Nikko, and I enjoy looking down on him. We are also closer than platonic friends should be.

I lean back, because while I don’t like Amy, there’s a line I won’t cross, no matter how much Nikko makes my heart crash against my ribs and no matter how much he smells like spiced chocolate.

I’ve loved Nikko since the moment he saved me when I was only a teen, and dammit, I want to keep him in my life, not make his girlfriend uncomfortable and demand he never see me again.

“Who is he?” I ask again.

“Psychotic.” Nikko looks up at me, his features somehow simultaneously soft and masculine. A streetlamp buzzes overhead, and the air turns crisp, causing his breath to billow out like a cloud.

“I’m going to need more than just psychotic.” I resist the urge to poke him in the chest, even though I want nothing more than to do just that.

“Jasper is a daemon.”

I run my tongue along the space between my teeth and lip as though I’m tasting who he is and not just his designation. “Daemon,” I repeat.

That alone should send me for the hills. It sounds a lot like demon.

I’m not that kind of bitch. Oh no, I’m far too curious for my own good, and a part of me wonders just how good he’d make me feel.

“No,” Nikko growls, shocking me out of the brief illusion that popped into my head that revolves around the saying fucks like a demon.

“Now, Nik,” I chide, “whatever do you mean by no?”

“I know you, Conejita.” His Spanish accent hits me in all the feels. “You are too curious for your own damn good. You dive headfirst into situations without taking a moment to see if the water is too shallow to dive into. Jasper, he’s no good for you.” His eyes glimmer in the light.

My heart constricts, and I lick my lips. I hate how he knows me so damn well almost as much as I love that little factoid. “You’re wrong, Nik.” I give him a sly smile and back away because I can feel the tension simmering between us, and I need to dissolve it—or pour acid on it. “He might be good for me, because you are forgetting something.” I fling open the back door and step inside the kitchen.

“¿Qué es eso?” He snorts. I don’t have to know Spanish to know what he’s asking.

Nerves burst in my stomach as I spin around, feeling high off the night. “I love the burn, Nik,” I whisper, telling him just who I am now. It’s been years since I’ve hung out with him, since I talked to him outside of the jobs he gave me at the station. Once upon a time, we had movie nights. The four of us would gather upstairs with junk food, popcorn, and sodas. He may think he knows me now based on the girl I was then, but he doesn’t know just how warped heartbreak made me. “I love the heat and the way it scorches just enough not to scar. And if I scar? Then I love those too.”

“Conejita.” There’s something more in his voice as he says my nickname this time. “What happened to you?”

The twins happened. You happened.

The answers are simple, but I don’t say them out loud. Luckily, the door leading into the front of the bar swings open and Garrett walks into the kitchen with a drink in his hand. “Cleaned up while you two ran into the parking lot to flirt. Might want to lock the front door though.” He eyes us up, a hum on his lips and judgment in his gaze. “You have two servers, one bouncer, and of course, me,” he says, as though all I ever needed in my life was indeed him. “Honey, you are short-staffed.” He cocks out a hip, and the hand holding his drink flares to the side. Amber liquid sloshes over the edge to splatter on the floor.

“I’m sure we will figure it all out,” I assure him. Just as I’m about to thank him, I remember my manners. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Who else is going to manage your mess?” He snorts before sauntering out the back door, which I quickly lock behind him.

“Manage my mess.” I shake my head as I listen for the deadbolt to click into place.

“He’s right, you know.” Nikko pulls off his apron, hanging it on the coat rack beside the door. “You are short-staffed.”

“Story of my life,” I mutter, because I’m also neglecting my other business endeavors—one of which I should get to now because it is prime-time phone sex hour.

There is one thing I want to do before I head home.

“You’ll be great, Pepper.” Hearing my name on his lips catches me off guard. “This place, it suits you. I hope you realize that.”

I roll my lips inward and bite the plump flesh. “Maybe. I said I’d give it a week.” The problem is that in this place, it was all the twins. Not me.

Nikko snorts and shakes his head at me, his dark hair flopping onto his tan forehead. “One of these days, you’ll wake up and realize all the opportunities you let pass you by.” There’s a hidden meaning in his words, one that clutches at my heart, and for a moment, it skips a beat and twists in pain before the rhythm flutters back to normal.

The kitchen door swings open again, reminding me I still have to lock the front door, and Amy walks in. Her honey blond hair sits in a bun at her nape, and her brown eyes dart between us. She’s still in uniform and probably working the night shift. I remember Nik brought my bike back, so he probably rode it here.

My cheeks flush with a tinge of embarrassment. I didn’t even think about how he was getting home. Their home.

“Hey.” She slips her arms around Nikko, breaking the spell and jerking him away from the meaning behind his words. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” He breaks eye contact, though I remain frozen in place, until his lips brush her forehead.

I turn around, shanking the moment away with the mental weapon I crafted. As they mutter, my eyes catch on the potato sitting in the middle of the island.

Note to self. Look up daemons, brownies, and redcaps.

“You can’t help out on your days off.” Amy’s voice rises, and I can’t help it, I eavesdrop as I put things away even though the kitchen is damn near spotless thanks to the brownie.

“Es mi elección. Conejita y este bar significa mucho para mí,” he tells her.

It is my choice. Bunny and this bar mean a lot to me.

Oh, look, there’s a small sticky spot on the counter. Can’t have that.

“Soy tu novia. ¿No debería llegar nuestro tiempo ante ella?” she replies with venom.

I’m your girlfriend. Shouldn’t our time come before her?

I wince at that one because, dammit, she’s right. I pause from wiping the sticky away. “She’s right, Nik,” I butt in, which only makes things worse. “I appreciate everything you did for me tonight, and a glass of whiskey will always wait for you at the end of your shift. Don’t waste your free time on me.” There, I said it. To Amy, I promise, “I won’t monopolize his time.”

Amy tilts her head to the side, her eyebrows wrinkled as though she just can’t make me out. Nik’s mouth opens and closes, and thank Hecate, my new bouncer Fable walks through the kitchen door—a door he barely fits through.

“Ms. Pepper, I’ll see you home now,” he says, though his eyes stray to Nik and Amy. “Out,” he commands in his gravelly voice that won’t allow for a single argument.

His voice startles Amy, who glares at him as though she can’t figure him out either, and that’s when it hits me.

She doesn’t know. Nikko never told her anything. She doesn’t know who Fable is, what I am, or where she is. The magic of the bar keeps her from seeing our true selves. It keeps us hidden and safe. As a human, she can enter, drink, and eat. She will never know that she’s staring at a gargoyle or that she’s been chatting with a dark witch.

I glance at Nik, who’s watching me closely, and he confirms my suspicions with a simple jerk of his head. “Come on, let’s go.” He grabs Amy’s hand, and with one last look at me, he heads out into the bar area. “Pepper.” He glances over his shoulder. “Stay away from Jasper.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me in the kitchen as the door swings between the rooms.

Fable grunts. “I agree with the human man.”

“I just bet you do.” I shoo him out the door and into the front of the bar. Flipping the lights off, I follow him through. “I think the night was a success.” Cassandra isn’t out here, and I can only assume she already left.

“Yes, Ms. Pepper,” Fable replies, and I feel like he’s one of those gentle giants. His skin is made of literal stone, but he has a heart as soft and squishy as a puppy. “Don’t be surprised if tomorrow is more hectic,” he says as he moves toward the glass door.

“Maybe.” I pull off my apron and toss it on the bar top. “Go on, there’s one more thing I need to do.”

“I should wait for you.” He tilts his head to the side, his eyes seeing far more than I’m comfortable with.

“Go home, Fable.”

“Ms. Pepper, this is my home.”

Stunned, I stare at him for a moment. “What?”

His lips tick up at the edges, and I know I will need a crash course on all creatures of lore. I think my cousin Sabina said she had a book or something hidden in her father’s armory.

“You accepted me. I’ll take my perch at dawn.” He nods and bows out of the bar with a sly smile, leaving me gaping at his broad back.

“Well, shit,” I grumble. Flipping the lights off to the street, I cast the bar into darkness. De fluttered herself home earlier after sputtering words at Jasper, words he probably didn’t understand.

I’m alone.

Flipping the lock, I spin around and head to the stairs that lead up to the second floor. Nerves tingle in my belly because I haven’t been up here in years. The only reason I haven’t stormed up these steps yet is because I opened the bar, and I just didn’t have time.

Turning the lights off, I dart up the steps like something might grab my ankles in the dark, although I know the only creature here is the hidden brownie. I’ve never once feared the dark. In fact, sometimes, it’s the only place I feel safe. I run now because I’ve been anticipating this moment all damn night.

At the top of the dark steps, I reach out to grip the doorknob, and I twist. Feeling the latch give, I push inside.

My breathing turns erratic as I step onto the wooden floors of the twins’ apartment—or I suppose it’s now my apartment. The only light available is from the street outside the big bay window, but the open living space remains shadowed.

I know the light switch sits on the wall to my left, but I don’t turn it on. I’m not sure I’m ready yet. Donovan and Connor Burke. Twins. Identical twins and so much more than human.

When I fell off my bike, they picked me up and taught me how to ride after cleaning and treating my wounds. They became my universe in the decade after that. When the only father figure I had died, they became my rock. They took me to all the dances, kept me safe from boys, and even gave me that first taste of liquor.

Then they left, leaving a gaping wound in my soul. I knew they left me the bar. They told me it would be here when I was ready for it. I didn’t think I’d ever be prepared to come back here. Even now, I want to run back out that door.

As soon as possible, I flip on the light, just like ripping off a Band-Aid.

Light illuminates the empty room. Shock pierces my heart, and I blow out an unsteady breath. I should have known the apartment would be empty. “Why wouldn’t it be?” I question out loud.

Except seeing it like this is nothing but a reminder that they are gone and not coming back. To the right, the kitchen sits in silence. Not even the fridge hums with electricity, telling me it’s probably unplugged. The marble countertops remain the same as they always have. The island has just three barstools, one newer than the others.

One they purchased just for me.

To the left is the living room. “Nothing but ghosts here.”

I step into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind me. Why am I doing this to myself? Regret pours into my soul, and my fingers twitch.

This isn’t why I came up here anyway.

Ignoring the blank space, I step toward the stairs leading to the third floor hidden behind a locked door. I reach out and grip the knob, yet when I go to turn it, it doesn’t budge.

That’s the moment my throat closes up. Everything catches up to me, and my head thuds against the door.

“Locked,” I choke out. The third floor is where their bedrooms were, a mirror image of my third floor. I know exactly where their beds, dressers, and desks sat.

If the door is locked, then maybe…

“Oh hell no,” I yell at myself and step back, wiggling out my phone hidden in my cleavage. Not giving myself a moment to even think about the time, I punch in Nessa’s number, hoping she’s still on Earth.

It goes straight to voicemail, so she’s back in the Underworld.

I dial Sabina’s number. Voicemail.

I try Ash next. Voicemail.

“I see a pattern here, ladies, and I am not impressed,” I grumble before tucking my phone back into my pocket. I just need someone to rationalize the freaking locked door for me. There are others I could call, like Kendall and Daisy. Kendall is just as pregnant as Sabina and more stabby, while Daisy is in rehab.

My mom is up with Sabina, living on pack lands and enjoying her best menopausal life. Nik just left with Amy, so I can’t call him and risk her wrath. She deserves better than my bullshit. I could hunt down Jasper, but something tells me he may be elbow deep in guts, and I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with that kind of crazy.

The bright screen burns my eyes when I pull my phone out again. As I unlock my phone, my heart pounds in my chest. My thumb hovers over the contacts, and refusing to second-guess myself, I flip to Donovan’s smiling face.

It’s a number I hadn’t dared call in the time he left.

My best friend growing up. My whole world.

Except, I’m not sure I can call him. Although it would be sunrise there, I might wake him, and what if his wife is with him?

The locked door taunts me, screaming at me that it’s a promise for the future, but his face on my phone is a haunting reminder of why they left.

I close my eyes. “No,” I whisper more to myself and go to close the phone.

Only that isn’t what happens.

The phone lights up again, but this time it’s my favorite john. I try to decline his call by hitting the big red X, but instead, I hit answer.

“Hello, Sparrow,” comes his soothing, cultured purr. “I’ve missed you.”

Squeaking, I bite out, “Call back later.” I slam my finger on the red end call button, only…

I somehow hit call in my rush to hang up. I stare at the phone in horror before finally reacting. It’s as though fate wants me to deal with this now. I grab the phone and somehow trip over my own two feet standing still. The phone flies out of my hands, thudding on the hardwood floor and spinning across it like a damn top.

I lob my whole body at the floor, earning bruises everywhere my limbs slam down. I scramble across the wood just in time to hear a click on the line. No, no, no this can’t happen.

I stare at the phone in horror as I hover over it on all fours. With a shaking finger, I press speaker because, dammit, I can’t deal with life right now.

“Freckles?” comes Donovan’s staticky greeting, calling me the nickname he gave me when I was only twelve.

Somehow, despite my nerves, I find the strength to say, “Donny.”

Neither of us speaks for what feels like an eternity until I hear a muttered, “Who is it?” in a feminine voice.

My eyes close, and tears well up, threatening to fall, and that ripping sensation begins in my chest again.

“No one,” Donovan says, and my heart shatters.

A decade of friendship goes out the goddamn window with his reply. No one.

“Do you...” I try, but my throat feels dry, sticky, tacky. “Key to the apartment,” I croak.

I hear the creak of a bed, footsteps, then the opening and closing of a door.

“Hey,” he whispers over the line, and dammit, no, I will not break. “Is the bar okay?”

“Yeah,” I rasp, keeping my eyes closed. Nausea swells in my throat, and my head spins. “I just need the key to the attic.”

“Oh yeah, we rented it out to Esme,” he replies as if his answer means nothing, except he doesn’t know that it’s the whole reason I called.

“The brownie,” I whisper, feeling distant and shattered in a way I haven’t felt since they left me to go back home to Ireland. Apparently I’m not welcome there, considering I’m just the human girl.

I know, I’m not human. They just don’t know that.

“Yeah, have you met her?” he whispers. In the background, I hear seagulls and the rushing of water.

“No, I, ah, only opened the bar earlier,” I say, feeling as though this conversation is drier than the Sahara. It needs to stay that way. “She kept up tonight, though, slinking around the kitchen.”

Which is probably why there is nothing up here. She has everything set up on the third floor.

I feel foolish.

“She’s a real help when things get rolling,” he says, his voice like a balm to my soul.

I’m caught between wanting to keep him on the line and hanging up on him. Balance. I need balance. Tell him something, anything! “I have a gargoyle,” I blurt, squeezing my eyes closed even tighter.

A chuckle ghosts over the line, causing warmth to flare in my stomach. “I heard.” There’s amusement in his voice. “I think you were always fated to be the city’s peacekeeper, Freckles.”

“Don’t—” My voice cracks. “Don’t call me Freckles.”

There’s a long pause. “Alright.” I hear it in his voice, he has so much more to say. He won’t say more though, not when there are years and miles between us. “Look, Pepper, I’m sorry.”

Here, in the middle of the night, as I inch closer and closer to the hour of the witches, I allow myself to feel the truth he weaves over the phone. It makes me feel brave, if only because of those years and those miles between us.

“Don’t,” I say again with an entirely different meaning.

“I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Donovan.” I open my eyes, and with my magic, I flip the light switch off. For a moment, I allow the darkness to wash over me, until an alarm blares over the line.

It cuts off a second later, but it breaks up the moment.

“Pepper,” Donovan begins, and I’m unsure if I can deal with his explanation, excuses, or anything else. Before they left, I was ready to make them mine and devote my entire world to them. I would have loved them with all of my being, but they weren’t my fate, as they told me. “Where are you right now?”

My eyes fling to the phone at the distress in his voice. The sounds of the seagulls and the water cut off. “Why?” I murmur. Outside, a shadow moves over the window, and I can just make out Fable’s form as he settles on the ledge of the bar.

“Where. Are. You?” There’s genuine fear in his voice as he punctuates each word.

“Home,” I lie.

“Pepper, now is not the time to fuck with me. You are a terrible liar.” I hear him moving through the house or the castle I imagine he’s living in, probably in nothing but boxers… or briefs.

“I’m a fabulous liar.” Snark pours out of me as I sit cross-legged on the floor. I should hang up.

“Dammit, Freckles,” he shouts into the phone, and a door slams. Static fills the line, and murmurs drift to me.

“Trouble,” Connor grunts. He’s called me Trouble since the moment I crashed into their lives.

“Con man,” I say, feeling nostalgic. My emotions fade, thanks to the poison I drank years ago—aka the anti-love potion. Sometimes it takes a little while, but I know the pain of loving them will dwindle.

He snorts over the line. “Where are you?”

“Safe,” I tell him, my eyes catching on the blinds and Fable’s red eyes peering through the window. I give him a wave, then with my magic, I flip the blinds closed.

The shrill alarm blares again, and the twins curse in the background.

“Sounds like you guys need to get up and start your day.” I yawn and listen to my jaw crack. “I need to go to bed.”

“Listen to me, Trouble.” I sit up, alert. There’s panic in Connor’s voice now. “You need to call Nik right now and get him to the bar.”

“No can do, bro.” I smile, knowing he hates it when I call him bro, implying he is my brother. We’ve never had a sibling-like relationship. “He just left with his girl about a half hour ago, and I promised her I wouldn’t monopolize his time.”

There’s another pause, and I yawn again. I wonder if I can zap myself home. I haven’t practiced teleportation spells in a while, and there’s always a risk I’ll end up in the wall, but I’m almost too tired to walk home, which is the whole reason I didn’t practice, because I prefer taking a moment to walk and breathe in fresh air. The paradox is real.

“You’re in danger,” Connor whispers over the line.

Donovan follows up with, “Someone is in the apartment with you.”

I blink at the phone, then to the room, and then back at the phone. There’s no one here… Wait. I tilt my head to the side and inspect the shadows, then I reach out with my magic, feeling those shadows.

“Nope,” I say just as their alarm blares again.

Curses fill the background. Again, nostalgia warms my cold dead heart. Time to go home. I roll up, grab the phone, and make my way downstairs through the dark, all the while listening to the twins curse at each other in Gaelic. I should let them get back to their wife.

Though I never got a wedding invitation, I assume they married the woman their parents arranged for them.

“Pepper,” they say at the same time.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” I remark with my hand on the front door. Outside, a lone car drives down the street. For some reason, I look to see if it’s Jasper’s. “I regret calling,” I say as I swing the door open and step out into the chilly night.

“No, Freckles,” Donovan pleads.

“There’s magic in the bar,” Connor says as soon as his brother finishes.

“Yeah, I know.” I snort, tugging the door shut and making sure it’s locked. As I step onto the sidewalk, I wave up at Fable, whose eyes glow red at night. It’s all I can make out of him, which is a little creepy. I can’t wait to see what his form is in the morning. “Look, I shouldn’t have called,” I tell them before they can say anything else, my hand on the gate to my childhood home. “I regret you.”

“Damn it, Pepper, you aren’t listening. You are in danger.” I hear the frustration in Connor’s voice. The side of him that always swore to watch over me rushes forth, sending a pang of longing through me.

“I’m safe, Con man.” I shove through the gate, my emotions lodged in my throat again, keeping me from speaking. This time, however, I push them out. He needs to know that I am okay and I can let them go. “I regret riding my bike that day.”

“Don’t say that.” Donovan’s tortured voice crackles over the phone as I step onto my porch.

“I do. I regret you.” I blow out a breath. The lie comes easily. “I’m giving the bar a week. I give no promises. You know I have other obligations on my plate as well. I only called because I thought...” Their silence is damn near deafening. “I thought you locked the door because you were coming back, but I heard her, and I know you aren’t coming back, ever, and I guess this call ended up as my goodbye. Again.”

“Dammit, Pepper O’Malley!” Donovan shouts into the phone.

“Don’t wake the missus,” I hiss at him and step inside. Dede instantly swoops down and dive-bombs my hair as soon as I open the door to the living room. “Pixies gone wild.” I’m pretty sure she just stabbed me.

“Pixies?” Connor questions.

“There’s a witch in the bar, Pepper!” Donovan rushes out.

My feet slide to a stop, and I pluck Dede out of my hair and drop her on the lounge chair. “Witch?” Dede flops over and hiccups. “No more mead for you.”

“Blessed be my patience, Trouble,” Connor growls. “I’m sending someone to check out the bar.”

“Don’t bother.” I sigh and begin stripping as I climb the stairs. “Fable is guarding it.”

“Who the fuck is Fable?” Donovan shrieks, and it sounds like there’s a thread of jealousy in his voice.

“See, this is the problem with guy friends.” Not friends. They are an ocean away. “Always thinking you can intrude on a gal’s life.”

“Yes, when her life is in danger from a black witch,” Connor yells at me.

My feet pause on the second floor. Oh shit. They do not know. Oh, hell, those alarms were me. “Oh yeah, um…” I swallow the truth. “See…” Dick me sideways. “I let one of my employees sleep at the bar, and she’s a witch.”

“What?” There’s a thread of danger in Donovan’s voice, and I can almost picture his pale cheeks growing red.

“Yeah, it’s my bar.” Then it hits me. “Also, it’s my bar.” Indignation swells inside of me. “Look, I just wanted to know about the third floor, and now I know. It is my bar now. I’ll let any witch stay as long as she’s chill.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Connor cuts me off. “The bar and the apartment won’t allow for magic use. It’s guarded.”

“The only one who got around that was…” Donovan trails off.

“My hallucination,” I finish for him, realizing my mistake in thinking I could just talk off my magic, except they don’t know I have magic.

That was their final straw. They refused to be with me because I didn’t have magic. When they left, I just realized I was something more. I refused to tell them because if I did, they’d stay for the wrong reasons.

I wanted them to stay for me and not what I could do, so I never told them my secret, and Nikko swore he wouldn’t tell them.

“Pepper, you need to be careful. He could be there,” Donovan says, and that familiar pang of our bond ripples between us.

My hallucination has a name now, Jasper. I don’t dare tell them he was already here tonight. “Time for me to go.” In more ways than one. Exhaustion swells inside me, and I drag my feet upstairs to my room. “I have to go. You better get back to your wife.”

Their bickering crackles over the phone, and I hang up on them. Hurt tries to weasel its way inside again, but I embrace the pain, knowing the potion will take care of it soon enough.

Every man I’ve ever loved promised his life to another. The rational part of me says to smile, keep my chin up, and be happy for them. The irrational part of me demands I show them everything they are missing.

It’s time to rebrand in the form of hair color.

Chapter 7

Pepper

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful little girl with a smattering of freckles across her nose and a penchant for trouble. She had two loving parents who worked their middle-class asses off. Her father, a giant man by anyone’s standards, owned a little shop where he specialized in fixing up motorcycles. He loved his job, loved getting his hands dirty, and loved his beautiful wife even more. She, a hairdresser, hoped their little princess would work beside her one day, so she taught her everything she knew.

This is where the record jerks and scrapes at the nerves.

The little princess absorbed all the information her parents taught her. She fell in love with bikes and, well, everything really. She felt the need to try everything the kingdom of Phila offered.

Including all the—

“Go away.” I groan at the banging on the door. “Busy filling my head with my own fairy tale.” I burrow deeper under my pillows and inhale the fresh scent of… sweat.

Dammit, I stink.

A sharp poke to my ass has my legs kicking out and trying to knock the small, sword wielding pixie away.

“What did you do?” she shrieks, her high decibel voice turning even more shrill than usual.

It’s awful.

Pounding ensues, both in my head and at the front door.

If I pretend… My blankets fly off my body, and Dede stabs me in the ass.

Squealing, I roll off the bed, all while she giggles like a lunatic. “How did you—” The words dry up in my throat when my door opens. Oh no, not the bedroom door. The front door.

I sit up too fast, still smelling like hair color, poor decisions, and too much tequila at three in the morning.

Ever had a hair splinter? Ten out of ten, I do not recommend. Nasty little assholes if you ask me, and I’ve got one stuck to my under boob. Drawing the little asshole out, I flick it across the room.

My bedroom door opens and shuts, the house groaning at my inability to be a morning person.

“Whole new meaning to haunted house,” I grumble and roll up, avoiding the pixie dust sprinkling me in shades of yellow. “Unless that comes with a shower, I don’t want it.”

“What the hell did you do to your hair?” Dede brandishes her sword, fluttering before me and threatening to stab my nose. “The nineties called, and they want their mullet back.”

For the record, it is not a mullet, just a sexy shaggy cut.

“Hey, Tink, where’s Peter?” I eye her outfit. She really is wearing a Tinker Bell outfit, complete with little booties with pom-poms.

She snorts at me. “I make this look good.” She runs her hands over her hips where she pauses, giving me a condescending look.

I blink slowly at her. “I can’t deal with you while my caffeine reserves are empty.” Footsteps sound in the hall downstairs, creaking the floorboards. I should worry, but dammit, it’s early, like really early, and if the house didn’t want this person in here, they wouldn’t be here. “Why are you threatening to stab me when there is an intruder?”

“It’s lover boy.” She flutters backward, sheathing her sword, which, by the way, is real. I don’t know where or how she acquired a mini sword, but here we are.

I grunt and push her out of the way.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” Dede shrieks.

Let’s get one thing very clear—I am not a morning person. At all.

I need at least half a pot of coffee, mindless chatter—preferably from kitten videos—and an hour before I’m awake enough to function. Yesterday was an outlier. Today it’s back to business. So… “No.”

My Wonder Woman briefs and matching tank top cover all my important bits. Besides, this is my house. He is in my house. My rules state no pants before noon.

He shouldn’t have walked in if he didn’t want to see this very round, plump ass.

“Pepper?” Nik calls up from the second floor.

My feet slap along the hardwood as I begin my descent, Dede buzzing around my head like a cocaine addicted bug.

“What?” I fling open the door and stare at his unshaven face. Dark circles deepen his eyes, and I’m not even sure he slept last night. He’s wearing the same outfit he left in, although now it’s completely wrinkled and full of creases. The fleck of blood on his cheek, however, wakes me up faster than any amount of caffeine would.

I snap out my hands and grab his face, dragging him down to me, then I lick the blood off his cheek. Weird? Yes. But oh so effective.

“Dammit, Pepper.” He yanks his head back, dislodging my hands.

Ash explodes over my tongue. “Yuck.” I gag. “The hell is that?”

“Why the fuck did you lick my face?” He steps back, his nostrils flaring before he runs a heavy hand over his weary face.

“Blood.” I’m still rolling it over my taste buds, my magic flaring as I get a read on just what I’m tasting, when Nik grabs my shoulders and shakes me. It tastes wrong.

“Why the fuck would you lick the blood off my face?” His eyes are bugging out of his head.

I break his hold and walk away, intent on finding coffee. The blood isn’t his. “The real question, Nikko, is why you have blood on your face in the first place. Blood belonging to something very dead.” I don’t look back because, dammit, it’s… “I’ve been asleep for three hours, Nik.” As I make my way to the kitchen, I slam my feet on the steps like a child throwing a tantrum, annoyance humming in my veins.

I finally look at the phone I snatched, seeing the time and several missed calls from lover boy.

Who the hell is up at this hour? Seven in the morning. It just isn’t right. And is that… “Nik,” I hiss, spinning around in the dining room and pointing out the front window. “Those are children.”

“Conejita, dammit. Dios mío, esta mujer me va a volver loco,” he grumbles as he steps into the living room. “They are going to school,” he answers, confirming it’s too damn early.

“I drive everyone insane, Nik.” I flutter my hands. “Blood, Nik, why is there ashy blood on your cheek?”

Know how I know he’s exhausted? He doesn’t acknowledge my assets, and by assets, I mean the delicious globes at the base of my spine. Instead, he pours himself onto the bench seat, his head thumping on the dining room table where I still have charred bills.

“Got a call.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Official business?” There’s a teasing quality to my tone. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist me. “My retainer just increased. Collateral damage for firing me.”

“Conejita.” He groans. “Dios mío. I need you as a friend on this and may as the peacekeeper.” He rolls his head to the side, finally noticing my lack of dress. He snares me with those chocolate brown eyes that flash to mine before they roll slowly down my body. I swear I feel everywhere his eyes fall. Licking his lips, he turns away. “Get dressed.”

“No pants before noon. You’ve seen my ass before, Nik.” I snort and turn on a heel, stomping into the kitchen where I loudly make a pot of coffee. “Explain yourself, copper.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, Angel.” I pop my head in, noticing he hasn’t moved. “Explain yourself.”

“What did you do to your hair?”

“Avoidance it is.”

“I can’t take you seriously while you’re wearing that.” He doesn’t look at me, but he waves his hands around my general direction.

Where the hell is my pixie? I squint at the vents, because she’s avoiding me too. Otherwise, she would be all up in here pushing me to jump his off-limits dick.

Seven in the morning Pepper is a different woman than caffeinated Pepper. “I called the twins last night.” I slam the filter in and fill the little tank as I speak. “Therefore, I was feeling some kind of way.”

“So you cut off all your beautiful hair and colored it black,” comes his muffled reply.

“Naturally.” I love my hair. I look like a badass. Is it even? Probably not, but the wolf cut slash long mullet looks damn good on me. My hair curls just so, giving it a natural style, and hell, I probably don’t have to do anything to it. “Bathroom looks like a color bomb went off though.”

I wonder if I can get Esme, the brownie, to help here too.

“How’d the conversation go?” he asks, sounding a little more alert with the scent of coffee rising in the air.

I decide to give him a break and pull out the frozen scones I have in my freezer. One never knows when they might need a pastry pick-me-up. I get to work heating up the premade pastries and then move on to the icing while muttering about the twins. “I may have screwed up,” I admit. “The twins sensed dark magic in the apartment.”

“That’s where you went.” He sounds closer, and I look over my shoulder, finding him leaning against the doorframe.

“I almost called you.” I go back to work and decide that we need a little more of a boost today for when he gets around to telling me about the blood on his cheek. Wiping my hands on a towel, I head into my apothecary. “They locked the bedroom door.” I shrug, but I do not know if he can see it because I don’t know if he followed me in here. “I don’t know.” My fingers trail over the jars, finding the one I want.

“You thought that meant they might come home,” he says, once again closer than I thought he was. “They are home. Ireland is home.”

My stomach churns, and it’s the kind of churn that could either just be nerves or diarrhea. “Of course I thought it meant they were going to come back.” I grab a jar of ginseng and another of unicorn blood. It passes as cinnamon, so he’ll never know.

“I didn’t take you for a green witch,” he comments as I turn around with the two jars in my hands.

“I’m not.” I clear my throat because he is standing in my way. “Do you mind?”

“No.” He steps to the side, letting me pass through. “What kind of witch are you, Pepper?”

I don’t answer him. All he needs to know is a witch, is a witch, is a witch.

Truth is, I know nothing more than I am a dark witch.

From what I’ve gleaned, there are five types of witches—cosmic, divine, kitchen, green, and sea—all associated with the five basic elements, which are earth, air, fire, water, and spirit.

I’m not great with anything celestial. Hell, I couldn’t even say what stars are prevalent in the sky right now. I only feel drawn to the sky and its endless possibilities.

Tarot cards are fun, but I don’t use them like some witches. I find them pretty more than anything else.

Obviously, I’m not a kitchen witch, although I love baking and creating spells with and without a spell book—I go by gut feeling.

I’m definitely not a green witch, but I can’t part with any of the herbs in the back room. They are like my little treasures.

And while I love the beach and thunderstorms, I’m not a sea witch either.

I don’t fall into a single category, but many. I love bits and pieces of them all.

“Why was there blood on your cheek, Nik?” And that’s just it too. I shouldn’t know the blood belonged to a dead man. Blood witches aren’t a thing. They don’t exist. Those who can manipulate blood aren’t witches at all. They are necromancers or vampires.

“It’s why I’m here.” He slumps into a kitchen chair, resigned to explain his presence at the unlawful hour of seven in the morning. “Amy and I were on our way home when I got the call for a body found over by Salem Harbor.”

I nod as I mix the herbs together. Somewhere out there, a green witch screams at me over this blend, but it feels right, so I’m rolling with it.

“She doesn’t know.” I chance a glance over at him, and I tack on, “That you’re here.”

“No. To both,” he admits, earning a grunt from me as I go back to my bowl. “Call came directly from the captain, so I dropped Amy off and went to the harbor.” He groans and runs his hands down his face. “I need you there.”

For a moment, those words do funny things to my insides. “I thought you fired me and my services.”

“Dammit, Pepper, this is different.” There’s a weariness in his voice I haven’t heard from him in a long while—an exhaustion with threads of stress that makes this feel different. “Can you help me? I just need you to identify what I can’t.”

The hidden meaning—magic.

Dede takes that moment to swoop in, her black pixie dust dousing us. “Charge him double,” she says like a pirate while brandishing her sword. Then, just as fast as she came, she’s gone to do whatever it is she does in her spare time.

“The hell is she saying?” Nikko pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Learn pixie,” I tell him. “Is it just the dead body bothering you, Nik?” I tilt my head to the side. “A dead body never had you this…” I wave my hands around him. “Worked up.” I turn around, avoiding his gaze as I pour my herbs into the icing.

He lets out a long sigh, the chair creaking beneath him as he adjusts. For a long moment, nothing happens, and I hold my breath, focusing on the task at hand. Then I feel him.

Behind me.

In my space.

His body heat closes me in as he presses his torso into my back. I don’t just feel him and his warmth, but the gun he keeps in his holster, and dammit if the edge of danger doesn’t excite me.

My entire body freezes, the bowl I have pressed against my stomach digs in, and my wooden spoon pauses. His breath flutters over my neck, and my eyes close.

I swallow saliva to wet my dry throat, my voice cracking as I try to speak. “Nikko, you can’t.”

Shit, this is all wrong, but it feels absolutely perfect.

“Conejita, I just….” His forehead presses to the top of my head. I go to turn or move away, I don’t know which, but his hands grip my hips, his thumbs curling under the hem of my briefs. “I need—”

“You can’t.” My voice shakes, and my eyes close. His unique scent of spiced hot chocolate rises in the air, drawing me in like a drug. It doesn’t matter how much I want this to be more, it’s still wrong. “Amy.”

“I know.”

“This isn’t you.”

“You’re right.”

“What are you doing, Nik?”

“Dammit, Bunny, I don’t know.” His hands squeeze me tighter. “I can’t keep lying to her.” His voice breaks a little, and now I don’t know if his touch is just because he needs me, his friend, or me… the one who got away.

Our timing has always been shitty, never lining up. Our paths never crossed enough for us to build a relationship. It’s been nothing more than friendship, a boring platonic friendship, except once—when he kissed me.

“I’m sorry.” And I am, because this can’t be easy for him, working in a department on cases that the rest of the cops dubbed as lost causes. Even Amy told him they would never find resolution, but Nik continues to prove them wrong by closing cases because they all involve creatures that, to the majority of humans, don’t exist. He cannot tell her even if he wants to. There’s magic in the bond of knowing, one that won’t allow him to speak.

Unless she finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, as Nik did one fateful night when he witnessed shadows move in a way they shouldn’t, she won’t find out.

“With you, everything is easier. Talking to you, existing beside you, loving you…” Inside, that fissure over my heart tries to crack, and pain lances me with his words. “When I look at you, I see everything I could cherish and love.”

We’ve never had this conversation. Not once. We always lived by the code that if we don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist and can’t hurt us. Except here he is, ripping all those wounds open and exposing them to the elements.

“I could never just be yours,” he whispers, and the tension between up creeps higher and higher. When he glides his lips down the side of my neck, giving me a touch that I’ve always craved from him, I damn near lose my ever-loving mind.

He’s right. A piece of my heart will always belong to the twins. It’s a piece that I’ll never get back, and he damn well knows that, which makes this moment even more bittersweet.

His lips drag farther down my neck, and he presses his erection into the crease of my ass.

This moment has already gone on long enough.

I need to stop it.

Yet the feeling of rightness swells inside me, and I drop the bowl into the sink, my hands clenching the counter as I press back into him.

“Conejita, Dios mío.” He nips my neck, sending chills all over my body. My core tightens, then burns with a passion I haven’t felt in a long, long time. “You drive me crazy with this curvy body in these little briefs and this sexy little haircut.” His thumbs hook the edges, and he tugs them down. The fabric burns my skin for a moment before he pulls them back until the seam presses against my clit.

I go up on my tippy toes, a moan spilling from my lips.

“I could fuck you right here.” His nips my ear, his thumbs dipping lower, lower. “Tell me you want that.” To himself, he whispers, “I need to know what I’m missing.”

My eyes fly open. “Nik.” I damn near choke on my emotions. Luckily, the timer goes off for the scones, breaking our spell, though neither of us moves for a long moment, allowing the beeping to play as background noise.

Nik reaches to the side and shuts the timer off, but he still crowds my space.

“We can’t.” I turn around and press a hand to his chest, my fingers gripping into the fabric of his shirt.

“I just. Shit.” He steps back, running his hands down his face, then he tugs at the strands of his hair as he spins around. “This isn’t why I showed up. Believe me, Conejita.”

I nod because I do. “You’re tired,” I say and grab the oven mitt. I almost don’t want to bend over because my briefs are soaked, and they are still splitting my pussy in half. Trembling, I pull my scones out to cool. The pan clanks on the stove a little harshly, and I rip the mitt off.

“I am. You’re right.” He slumps back in the chair. “I—”

“Nikko, I’m about to give you a dose of reality.” My voice shakes until I allow anger to thread through and take over, because how dare he? He looks at me with lost eyes, hanging on my every word. “Needing me in your life, that’s one thing. I will always be your friend. But lusting after me when you are with someone else isn’t okay. Touching me just to see what you’re missing out on isn’t fucking okay.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Anguish bleeds into his voice. “I just… I won’t share you.”

Why does everything come back to the twins? I don’t even have them. No one is sharing me despite how much I wouldn’t mind it.

“You don’t have me, Nikko,” I lie, because dammit to the Underworld and back, he will always own a piece of my heart. “And Amy? She doesn’t have your heart?”

For a moment, I think he’s going to break. “I don’t want to break up with her.”

“You’re using her so you aren’t alone.”

The truth smacks him in the face. He rears back, his eyes widening as horror dawns on his face. “I need her,” he argues, but I’m not sure who he is trying to convince—me or him. Either way, it’s a lie.

“You should break up with her if you aren’t all in on your relationship with her, Nik.” Tears blur my vision. “She deserves better than you.” I stomp out of the kitchen and head upstairs to get dressed. The last thing I want to do is check a dead body for a magical signature when I have a thousand other things to do.

I’ll go despite how awkward it’s about to be because it’s the right thing to do.

“Dammit, Nik,” I grumble as I stomp upstairs.

I didn’t even get a cup of coffee.

Chapter 8

Pepper

“Why am I here, Nik? I could have gone to the morgue, ya know,” I ask for the hundredth time. This time though, my voice is nasally because the clothespin keeps me from smelling a damn thing—courtesy of Dede, who is hiding in Nik’s car.

I came prepared, but the stench seeping through my barrier is more due to the river stretching before me than the dead body rotting somewhere along the shoreline.

After suffering through the longest, most awkward ride in freaking history, we finally made it here to the harbor. It was only two inches on the map, so I don’t know why it took so damn long to get here.

I regret agreeing to this. Time to go home. I have things to do. I just got a brand-new suction dildo and haven’t showered yet.

He isn’t even paying me. He dropped that little bombshell halfway here, and I’m still irritated about it. He was serious about pulling me off their payroll to force me to concentrate on the bar. The audacity.

“Conejita,” he hisses as he lifts the yellow police tape. “You are here because…” He pauses and looks over his shoulder at me, his dark hair brushing his forehead, yet his eyes remain haunted. “Come on.”

“It’s fancy out here,” I note and duck under the tape, my feet slapping on the pavement.

“Rich fucks,” Nik mutters, earning a smile from me. “We have one hour before we have to remove the body and get the hell out of the country club.”

“Aren’t you a cop?” I follow him down the boat ramp. “Doesn’t a dead body warrant, I don’t know, priority over money?”

“You tell that to the assholes trying to kick us out.” Nik jerks his head to the side.

Following his gaze, I find a golf cart with several middle-aged men wearing all white. “It’s October!” I gasp. “Who’s going to tell them?”

Nik doesn’t even humor me. He just walks down to the dock, beckoning me to follow.

“Hi!” I wave and shout over the wind. “It’s October. You shouldn’t wear white after Labor Day.”

“Pepper,” Nik hisses at me and points to where he’s standing.

“Coming.” I skip down the path until my feet hit a pebbled shoreline. “Where are the other cops?” All I saw when we pulled up was the morgue van waiting on little ole me, though I could have easily done this down at the morgue. The wind picks up and slaps me in the face with the scent of trash once more. A fancy place like this should at least clean their shoreline. I adjust my clothespin over my nose a little more securely.

“Gone.” He glances up at me. “It’s just us.”

“Why couldn’t I do this at the morgue?” I ask again, though I know he won’t answer. I hook a thumb over to the dude leaning against the van with a smoke hanging out of his mouth and a mug of coffee in his hand.

“You’ll see,” he mutters before sliding down a small embankment toward the dock. “Forensics has already cleared the area. It’s just us.”

“You did all this for me?” I know he’s about finished with my bullshit, so I finally jump down the small embankment to land beside him. The Delaware smells like a giant toilet, and trash washes up on shore with each gentle wave.

Yet it’s the body lying prone under the dock that has me coming up short. “Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

“Nik.” I stumble, my eyes wide as I look around the area. The country club sits about a half mile northeast. There’s a marina farther south, and trees dot the land. Along the water, there’s a small dock and a boat ramp that seems out of place. A path winds its way along the coast, but mostly, everything is quiet and sits undisturbed. On the way here, I checked this place out on Google Maps. There’s nothing over here. It’s almost a dead zone, and the map said this country club, golf course, and marina are all closed. Permanently. The old men in the golf cart above the embankment tell a different story.

Red flags rise in my mind, and the hair along my neck prickles.

I avoid looking at the body.

I don’t want to look again, except it calls to me like a train wreck.

I swallow bile. “Who found him?”

Nik grunts at that, crouching down. One knee presses onto the shoreline while he pulls out a long chopstick, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t a chopstick. “If you haven’t already noticed, this area is closed off to us poor folk.”

“Internet said it was closed.”

“I know.” He glances up at me. “It isn’t.”

“Think they are the Illuminati?”

“Pepper, please.”

Damn him, he said please. “Yeah, alright.” I look at the body again. He rarely calls me on cases like this. A rogue wolf in the city, sure? A witch handing out love spells, yeah? Sure, even though I’m still a baby witch just getting her hat on right. Sometimes I would tell him the basics and help him track down a vampire or a fae sucking the life out of victims, and yeah, that included dead bodies.

This isn’t just a dead body. It’s a frozen husk of what was once a person, its mouth gaping open on a silent scream.

The man, woman, hell, I do not know what lies under the dock mere feet from the water… Clothing hangs off its body as though someone put adult clothing on a stick man bound with twine.

“Man, no wallet.” Nik looks up at me with expectation.

I know what he wants from me, but I’m stuck on the guy himself. “Ever see that movie?”

“Bunny.” Nik pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Seriously, this is going somewhere,” I say as I step closer to the body. For a moment, empathy rushes through me. “I promise.”

“Then you must be a little more specific about the movie.”

“It was a Steven King novel.” I look the guy over, glancing at his frozen, gray skin. No way is he staying in one piece when they move him. He looks like he’s going to shatter at any moment. “Thinner. Guy hits a gypsy, who you never want to fuck with, by the way.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway, no matter how much he eats, he gets sucked in.” I make a slurping noise that deeply unsettles Nikko, if his shudder is anything to go by.

“You’re right.”

“I am?” I jerk my head at Nik. “I am,” I say a little slower.

“What am I dealing with here, Bunny?”

“I prefer it in Spanish,” I mutter as I reach out with my magic. The swirling darkness swells within me before I allow it to become an extension of myself.

I had no one teach me how to be a witch, how to mix things or how to grow plants. I always thought being a witch was like that show, charmed. Honestly, Piper was the best witch, blowing shit up with magic.

For me, it’s an extension of who I am, a manipulation of my aura, per se. I can direct that colorful energy that floats about us, which I suppose has a lot to do with my grandmother’s blessing. I am also great with the dark, so I assume I have always had an affinity for the darkness. There is something to be said about people who thrive in the dark. Disturbed. I can almost connect to the shadows, making them an extension of myself and merging the darkness inside me to the darkness of a shadow.

I allow that extension to ghost out of me and hover over the body.

As soon as my magic tastes the man on the ground, I feel it.

My mouth opens on a silent scream, and yet nothing comes out.

Terror.

“Pepper.” Nik’s voice sounds close but oh so far away. “Pepper!”

My throat closes up as something slithers in.

I gasp.

I try to pull back.

Nothing.

Terror seizes my soul, trying to dig claws inside of me.

My breath is knocked out of me, and my back slams onto the pebbled beach. The sky brightens, then dims, then brightens. Black spots dance in my vision. I think Nik just tackled me.

“Breathe, Conejita.” Warm hands grip my face, and Nik comes into view. “Baby, I need you to breathe. Come on. Come on.”

That’s what I’m supposed to be doing. Breathing. Only it’s as though I’ve forgotten how. My lungs don’t know what they are supposed to be doing.

Breathe.

Black trickles in at the edges of my vision. Above me, dust sprinkles over us in various colors, coating my lips and chest.

“Why won’t she breathe?” Nik shouts at Dede.

A roaring begins in my head, and my fists clench the pebbles beneath me. Their sharp edges cut into my palms, the pain exploding through me.

“Fuck!” Nik curses. Still hovering over me, he grabs his phone.

No, not today, angel man.

I dig the pebbles deeper into my skin until I feel the painful prick of their hard edge and blood wells. The rock slices my skin with a flare of pain.

I gasp, and air winds down, down, down into my lungs. I inhale again, willing my body to breathe deeper as I clench the pebbles harder. My back bows, knocking Nik off me as my body contorts as it tries to gulp air.

A lone stone slices me deeper than any other, and just like that, the spell lifts.

I suck in the air as fast as possible and curl on my side. My breath spills over the stones and sand as I drink in the flavor of the Delaware. My forehead rolls on the cold pebbles, and I embrace the sharpness of their edges. The roaring in my ears picks up, and I can only faintly make out Nik and Dede arguing.

I can’t even be bothered with their drama. What the hell was that? I curl up into myself as my breathing evens out and the tsunami in my head dies. Dede lands in my line of sight, concern etched on her small face.

“I’m okay,” I croak, my voice smokier than usual.

“What the fuck?” Dede shrieks, her pitch threatening to shatter glass.

Arms lift me up, and Nik is there, his eyes full of panic. His phone lies forgotten on the ground as his warm hands glide up and down my body, checking for injuries that aren’t there.

I wouldn’t even know where he’d find them at this point. Shaking, I reach up to rub the pain in my lungs away. Is this how asthmatics feel? Ten out of ten, I would not recommend asthma. Screw that shit.

Belatedly, I realize Nik is talking. His voice snaps the rubber band of reality back into place.

“She’s alright, she’s alright.” I’m not sure who Nik is trying to convince, but it sure as hell isn’t me.

I said I was okay, but I’m not. That shit was scary.

“Nik, what’s going on?” Donovan’s voice rips me away from the moment and toward the little device on the shore.

“What did you do?” I hiss. “No, no, no.” It hurts to talk, and I push Nik to the side, grabbing his phone. Donovan’s name lights up the screen.

“Pepper, don’t be mad.” Nik grabs the phone from my hands as hurt and betrayals swim through me. With each breath I take, the scent of the river pulls bile up my throat—or maybe that’s just because Nik broke his promise and called the twins.

“What?” I rub at my throat. Damn, that hurts. It feels like invisible hands cut off my air supply.

“You stopped breathing for nearly three minutes!” Nik shrieks at me.

I nod as a numbing calm slides through me from head to toe. “Three minutes.” I look at Dede, a partial smile on my lips.

“Any longer, and you’d have passed out.” Dede flutters to my shoulder. “Those deep dives paid off. Crazy witch.”

“De!” I almost flip her off, but then I eye the phone. No witchy talk in front of the twins, my gaze says.

“Pepper.” Donovan’s voice crackles over the line. “Are you okay?”

I nod in answer, even though he can’t see it. “Hang up,” I croak to Nik.

“Don’t—”

“Hang up.” I cut him off with my words and a slash of my hand through the air.

“Got to go,” Nik says almost dejectedly. Donovan’s protests crackle for a mere second before Nik hangs up.

Taking slow, gentle breaths, I push up to stand on wobbly legs. Nik grabs my arm, and I swat him away, irritation that he called Donovan swimming in my veins. For all I care, the both of them can take a long swim in the polluted waters in front of me.

My boots crunch under me as I turn on a heel and make my way up to the car. The morgue guy still stands there smoking his cigarette, and for a second, I almost ask him for a drag.

“Pepper, wait,” Nik shouts, jogging up to me.

“Want me to give him diarrhea for a week?” Dede whispers in my ear.

Yes. “No, that’s inhumane.”

“Is it? He betrayed us,” she hisses, flying off my shoulder and tempting fate at being seen as she soars over to Nik. I’d care if we were anywhere else, but the smoking man isn’t paying attention, and the golfers are gone too. “I should gut you like a pirate.”

“Seriously, is this how that tale got told?” Nik mutters.

“You would deserve it.” Dede uses her best serious voice though she still sounds like a doll whose cord got pulled.

“I didn’t know what to do!” he shouts at Dede, and I ignore them as I make my way to the car.

“I told you what to do.” Dede sniffs at him.

“I wasn’t going to shoot her.”

I snort as I reach the car and wait for the telltale clicky thing to unlock the doors. My head falls forward, and my eyes close, yet as soon as they do, I feel it again—the terror. My eyes jerk open, and I feel my body shake. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I glance at Nik, who is luckily too busy fighting with Dede to notice me.

The click echoes around us, so I climb in and allow the silence to wrap me in its embrace. I rip the clothespin off my nose and throw it in the back. My nostrils water almost immediately. They should have ripped that off first. Shock is weird though, people never do what they’re supposed to do.

I traveled the world, the Underworld, and many places in between, training with teachers that some couldn’t even imagine existed. I learned nightmares are real, that Cerberus is a man, well, three men, that the gods walk among us, and that beings live on blood.

Never in all that time did I ever feel scared. No, I felt excited, as though each day was an adventure, and despite the heartache of losing the twins to another, and even Nik, I love my life. I love the adrenaline rush with each moment and each brush with death. Although it’s healthy to feel fear, this isn’t fear, this is terror. Pure and simple. Nothing more and nothing less.

It’s terror that’s so intense, it stole the air from my lungs, and now its ghost simmers just under the surface of my skin.

“I’m never sleeping again,” I grumble as Nik opens the door.

Dede flies behind him to rest on her little booster seat in the back. Yes, I bought her a booster seat. It doesn’t fit her, but at least she has somewhere to sit in a moving vehicle.

“I got nothing,” she grouses. “No magical signatures.”

That’s not right. No way was that anything but some kind of magic.

Slamming the door shut, Nik fires up the car. “Cold?”

Glancing down at my arms, I find goosebumps traveling up and down my flesh. Until he said it, I didn’t feel the chill, but I do now. “Yeah.” I flip the vents at me as he turns the heat up. Although it’s October, it isn’t cold. It’s that perfect temperature that isn’t hot or cold, like Goldie would say, but is just right.

“Pepper.”

“Don’t, Nik.” I rub my forehead, trying to ease the ache that now presses its way across my entire head. “Don’t touch the body.” I strap myself into the seat belt as he travels down the long driveway out of here. Again, no cars pass us, and as we pass the white monstrosity they call a country club. I can’t help but look for more cars.

Nothing.

“I won’t,” he assures me.

Slumping in the seat, I glance at the clock. It’s almost one, and I have to get the bar ready in an hour. At least it’s Monday, and I can close tomorrow and the next day—my new weekend. That means I’ll have to head to the shop and check on it though.

“What happened out there, witchy?” Dede asks.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“What did you feel?” Nik asks.

“Well, you were right. It wasn’t a typical mortal death. I don’t even know if he was mortal, Nik. I don’t know if he can go to the morgue.” Curses spill out under my breath at that. Usually, if a spicy creature dies, the body returns to the clan, the pack, the family, or whoever wants the body, as long as it doesn’t land in the morgue.

“I’ll talk to my boss.” His sigh isn’t just heavy but full of the weight of something new that isn’t a fun kind of new. “I’ve never seen a body like that. I don’t know where to send it.”

“The web,” Dede says, buzzing to land on the seat between us.

“No, absolutely not.” Nik shakes his head.

“Wait.” I turn in my seat. “When did you figure out how to understand her?”

Dede looks ashamed.

“You’ve been teaching him pixie.” I’m not even mad.

“For the record, I told him to stab you, not to shoot you.” Dede sniffs.

“I don’t get everything she says.” A flush creeps up his neck as he side-eyes me. “Just the words that stand out.”

“It’s not that hard,” I say. “She’s right though. The web might have something or someone that can help.” An idea strikes me.

“No, absolutely not. Stay away from him, Pepper.” Nik adjusts himself in his seat, angling his body toward mine.

“Jasper!” Dede squeaks, bouncing to the top of the car where she accidently slams her body into the roof before falling to the center console. “Open the window!” she shouts.

“Pepper!” Nik scolds, but I’m already rolling it down.

Dede darts out the window, fluttering away with yellow pixie dust spilling out as she goes.

“You do not know how dangerous he is, Conejita.” Nik grinds his teeth.

“You’re mad.”

“Of course I’m mad!”

“You don’t get to be mad, Nik.” I adjust in the seat, embracing my anger because it’s a hell of a lot better than feeling the terror still coursing through me. “If I want to run with the devil, then I’ll fucking sprint.”

“He’s a demon, Conejita.”

“And do you even know what that means?” I spit right back at him.

“Do you?”

“I know more than you do, mortal!”

“Is that what this is about?” His head jerks to the side, and he slams on the brakes, stopping at the end of the drive. My seat belt tries to decapitate me as he stops, and the car jumps into park as he turns toward me. “This is about this morning, isn’t it?”

“I said my peace to you about that, Nik.” I shake my head, though I don’t know why I slung the word mortal at him like it was a curse.

“Then what? Why do you insist on contacting him?”

“Not for me, Nik, for you.” I shudder. “I don’t want to know who the dead guy was.” This time I’m not lying as I continue, “I don’t want to know what he did to end up in that state. Jasper rules the web. He’s your best shot.”

His eyes close, and I think he will argue when they pop back open. “He doesn’t rule the web, he just keeps it from falling into a state that’s considered unredeemable.”

“How would I know? You didn’t tell me anything about him. You were gatekeeping that information.”

“I wasn’t gatekeeping it.” He curses under his breath in Spanish. “Jasper is a daemon. A demon. A spirit of a man that once walked the Earth. That’s all I know. I don’t know who he was, and I don’t know how he died, but if I had to guess, it was from the scar across his face.”

“Why does he still have it?” I don’t think it takes away from his looks but highlights them. It gives him an aura of danger that I want to dive into.

“No idea.” A hand scrubs down his face. “Jasper is the boogeyman of the web. He… I don’t know. He kills because someone looks at him wrong. You’re right. He knows the web. Fuck.”

“I think…” I pause and shake my head. I’ve never been so spooked in my entire life. “This is far bigger than you or me, Nik. This isn’t one of those cases that are simple.”

“None of them are simple.”

“You know what I mean. You called me to take in Mercutio because he was slippery. He was a murderer, sure, and a warlock. He wasn’t—” My voice cracks, and I have to pause. Dammit, this sounds bad. “He wasn’t threat level alpha.”

Nik snorts and laughs at me. “I get it. Mercutio was just a low-level criminal.” He turns those accusing eyes on me. “That you—”

“Fucked?” I answer for him. “I did, Nik, because news flash, I’m a sexual creature. I love sex, Nik. I love gang bangs. All the guys, too, worshiping me on their knees.” For emphasis, I moan. “I love my toys. I love my partners using my toys on me. I love using them on them. Dammit, Nikko, I love the feel of a woman, even if I prefer dick, especially the way a thick cock against my G-spot makes me see stars. So yeah, make no mistake about that, Nik, I fucked him.”

His mouth gapes open like a fish, and a flush works up his face.

“Just like you screw Amy.” And there it is, the line I’m drawing. “De will find Jasper.”

“You’re giving me conversational whiplash.” He starts driving again.

“Well, prepare yourself, because I’m about to snap your neck.” I turn to face him, though he now uses the road as a reason not to focus on me. “You betrayed me.”

“Pepper, you weren’t breathing. I did not know what that body did to you. I still don’t understand it.” He gives me a pointed look, but I don’t have an answer for him. “I had a pixie yelling at me, and I was only grabbing words here and there. Do I call an EMT? My captain? I have you to help me navigate this world, and that body knocked you out.” His words slap at my face. “I had the twins, and now I don’t.”

And there it is. The crux of this bullshit storm. The twins? They were his friends too, not just mine. My throat clogs with emotion. “I’m sorry. You could have pulled off the damn clothespin though.”

“Mental block. I didn’t think about the damn clothespin because I was mid panic.” He isn’t done with me yet, not by a long shot. “That’s just it, Pepper. The captain is mortal. I don’t have anyone else, and you’ve been selfish in thinking their move only affected you.”

“You’re right.” Shame churns my gut. “But” —I lick my lips— “you still broke your promise.”

“I said—”

“I know why you did it.” The words rush out of me. “I have to deal with the aftermath.”

“You shouldn’t have lied to them,” he retorts. “One day, Pepper, your lies will catch up to you, and you will have to atone for all of them.”

“Not today though.”

He snorts. “Until they call you.”

“What did you tell them?” A chainsaw starts in my torso as I anticipate his words.

He blows out a breath and side-eyes me. “I told them you were helping me on a case as the peacekeeper.”

“Logical.” I nod. “That could work. I am the peacekeeper, so then I was on official business.”

“They said the body wouldn’t have affected you as a mortal.” Again, he side-eyes me.

“Oh, they have been wrong in the past.”

“I told them you touched the dead body with your magic.”

“No coming back from that one. Yeah, I’ll have to face this one with teeth.” I thump my head back on the seat and close my eyes. Like a thief in the night, the terror rises as fast as they shut. Springing back up, I swallow and shudder.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie, earning a pointed look from Nikko.

“I don’t want any part of that case, Nik. That man? He died from pure terror. It stole everything he was, leaving him as nothing but a husk. Leave me out of it. Call the twins, call Jasper, or hell, even Dede. Just not me.” I know, I know. Just yesterday, I was whining about not being able to work with Nik and him not wanting me anywhere near his cases because of my safety.

Now, I never want to feel that again. Ever. I’ll stick to my phone sex line and selling dildos, herbs, and general fuckery.

Shit, I have to call back my number one john.

Chapter 9

Pepper

“And then I told him to think happy thoughts,” I interpret for the pixie as she buzzes up to the ceiling and then back down while regaling Cassandra and Cecilia with her… exploits. Well, through me, that is, since I’m the translator.

I don’t think they are buying her bullshit about being the OG Tink.

“So, what you are saying is—”

Dede cuts Cecilia off. “That Peter Pan is real!” She flops onto the bar top like a squashed bug. The only thing she’s done since she returned from seeking Jasper is weave tales and force me to translate. I’ve heard them before, but I don’t mind repeating them.

Both girls look at me. “She says that yes, Peter Pan is real.”

She couldn’t find Jasper, which is why she is weaving tales and buzzing around the mead I refuse to give her. A pang of disappointment spears through me because I want to see Jasper again. I don’t want any part of this case, which is saying a lot. Normally I’m all in, ready to dive headfirst off a cliff, but there’s just something about this case that doesn’t sit right with me.

Typically that is when my magic will pulse and demand I go find out, like the girl in every horror movie ever when she seeks out the bad guy.

Then she dies.

I have a sliver of self-preservation. That’s it, though, just a sliver. Sometimes I am that bitch.

“I don’t know.” Cecilia turns her gaze to me, her brown eyes alight with amusement. She showed up with her sister about a half hour ago, each arriving on time at two sharp.

On time. I’m never on time. Either I’m too early, or I’m too late.

The sisters look so much alike that I almost thought they were twins, but Cecilia is older by two years, and Cassandra is a blood slave, a fact that doesn’t sit well with her. They are night and day with their personalities, and I’m glad that Cassie brought Cecilia with her.

It turns out they were both looking for work despite the original reason Cassie showed up. They have been applying all over the city, and nothing.

They are both human and both in the know. Cassandra because of her vampy lover, and Cecilia because of her sister. Knowing won’t keep them safe, though, so I make a mental note to stay late tonight and make them some kind of protection charm.

Not to mention the simple task will keep my hands busy and my mind off what happened earlier. Even now, if I close my eyes, the feeling of terror rushes in.

“I buy it.” Cassie slides onto the bar stool. Her eyes are even clearer today than they were yesterday, and her cheeks are a little flusher. She just finished wiping down all the tables and putting everything in place to open. “I mean, I didn’t know pixies existed until last night, but I’m happy about it.”

“Wait.” I pause, wiping down the glasses behind the counter as I eye my pixie friend. “Wasn’t Tinker Bell a tinker fairy?”

As I suspected, black dust spills from her wings, and she brandishes her sword, pointing it at my nose. “Take it back,” she hisses at me.

Both Cassie and Cecilia look at me with wide eyes. “I don’t have to understand pixie to know she isn’t happy about that,” Cecilia says.

Unfazed by my emotional friend, I simply point out the facts. “The media says she is a fairy.” I hold up a hand. “They obviously don’t know the difference between the two.”

This does not appease Dede, who zigzags the sharp end of her sword across my nose. It is not the first time she’s done this. “Not. A. Fairy.”

“I think I understood that,” Cassie says.

“It’s an easy language to understand once she yells at you a few times.” I smile at Dede, who raises her little chin in defiance. Her thick bun on the top of her head swivels as she shakes her head, trying to decide If I’m screwing with her or not.

I am. Tinker Bell was definitely a pixie.

“Why doesn’t she speak English?” Cassie asks while busying her hands by folding napkins.

“She does.” I wink. “Kind of. She speaks in a different decibel. The words are higher pitched. It’s like singing the words. It is and isn’t a language.”

Dede squints her eyes at me.

“What is the difference between a pixie and a fairy?” Cecilia asks with a wrinkled brow. She’s sitting at a table with all the accounting ledgers spread out before her. She is going to be my ace in the hole. Not only can she bartend and serve, but she’s an accountant.

With a harrumph, Dede buzzes out of sight, probably off to find Esme, whom I still haven’t met. Setting a glass down, I cross my arms and lean back on the counter. When Nik dropped me off, I dressed for the evening in a high-waisted red and black plaid skirt, with ribbons in the front that act like a small, corseted waist. The black bodysuit has a plunging neckline that dips to my belly button. My favorite parts of my outfit are the black, thigh-high socks and shit kicker boots. With the haircut and my black, kohl-rimmed eyes, I feel like a witch on the prowl. A certifiable badass.

Or maybe it’s the long, thin blades strapped to my thighs that give me that warm, dangerous feeling. The day called for more weapons, just in case.

“Dede is a pixie. The easiest way to discern the difference is their size. A pixie will always look like a flying Barbie doll. They are mischievous but loyal.” I smile as I remember how Dede and I found each other.

“How did you guys meet?” Cecilia asks, practically reading my mind.

“I was up north.” This is where things get dicey, because I don’t want to give them my entire life story, so I simplify. “Visiting my cousin Sabina. She freed the pixies who were being held hostage by a lycan.”

“Wait. That is a lot to unpack.” Cecilia perks up. “Where are the rest? You used plural in that sentence.”

“I did. The rest left after we freed them.”

“Where?” Cassie can barely contain her excitement.

“Themyscira,” I say, then pause. “Paradise Island. It was safer there for them. Dede felt as though she owed Sabina for releasing them and hung back.”

“So shouldn’t she be with Sabina?” Cecilia asks.

Somewhere above me, I hear a grunt. Dede likes Sabina, but she didn’t want to stay in one place after being trapped for so long. She followed me because I was leaving. “I guess I’m just more likable.” I shrug nonchalantly, and I can tell the sisters don’t believe me. They don’t need to know that Dede found me in the woods, heartbroken because the twins left.

After the twins said goodbye, they just disappeared into thin air, returning home because their parents demanded it—demanded that they go back and fulfill their duty to their clan.

“Your life is something out of a fantasy book,” Cassie says with awe in her voice. “You’ve done so much.”

With all the heartbreak of one as well, I think, but I don’t say it out loud. “A little. I just get restless,” I reply before I continue the explanation. “A fairy is something else, and not malevolent like pixies can be. Benevolent. Well, mostly. They are called the fae, and apparently, they are more political than the politicians on Earth.” And more bloodthirsty.

“Fae.” Cecilia rolls the word on her tongue. “They don’t have wings?”

“Some do,” I say, my eyes catching on Garrett at the bar door. As it swings open and he strolls in, I finish, “Like Garrett here. He’s a fae.”

“We come in all shapes and sizes, sweetheart.” He saunters through the bar, not stopping until he heads to the back. “And I mean all,” he yells through the swinging door.

“Fifteen minutes until we open.” I push off, intent on heading to the back to ask Esme for the team meal, which is probably the only reason Garrett showed up now. I shouted the request when I first walked in, unknowing if she’d follow through. Just as I’m about to open the door, the sisters squeal, and I spin around, finding plates on the bar. “How?”

“You just missed her.” Cassie snickers, grabs a fry, and pops it in her mouth.

“I didn’t see her either,” Cecilia admits, standing and walking to the bar.

Knowing it’s the only time I might eat tonight, I follow suit, though I stay behind the bar and lean over it to grab a chicken nugget.

“What are all the jobs you have?” Cassie asks me with a full mouth.

I mentioned how strapped I felt trying to keep everything together earlier, only alluding to my many business endeavors.

I get bored. Sue me. Swirling a fry in ketchup, I answer, “My dad’s shop was willed to me when he died twenty years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Cecilia says, though it’s an automatic response. There’s emotion there, but only the robotic kind, as though the death of a parent is something she knows all too well.

I shrug because I’ve had time to get over my dad’s death. On my eighteenth birthday, my mom gave me a medallion of his, one that rests in my bra. I don’t dare allow anyone to see it. “Don’t be. He was a mechanic, and I just can’t part with the shop, even though I should because it’s just collecting dust. I also sell sex toys.”

“Oh!” Cecilia perks up at that. “Like those Pure Romance ladies?”

“Kind of.” I smirk as I gear up to blow their minds. “It’s for the immortal world. I’ve partnered with a few suppliers to have sex toys for spicy creatures.”

“No way!” Cassie squeals. Her voice reminds me of Claire from Clueless, while her sister is the scholarly one.

“For a while, I also operated a phone sex line specifically for those creatures.” I cough at that one and look around because I kept that on the down low. Why I’m admitting to it now is beyond me. “And the apothecary. And, occasionally, I helped Nik.”

“So what will you do with all your businesses now that you are the peacekeeper?” Cecilia questions.

“That’s the crux of it all.” I feel bad telling them I only said I’d do this for a week because this bar draws me in like nothing else, not to mention the sisters need this job. “I don’t know. I don’t want to give them all up either.”

“You can’t do it all,” she points out.

“I know,” is my whispered reply just as the clock strikes three. “I appreciate you for this.”

“For what?” Cassie frowns, not getting it, but her sister does, if the knowing look on her face is anything to go by.

“Normalcy,” I say, because they do not know what I went through this morning, and that isn’t something I want to dive into.

I’m already not sleeping tonight.

Cassie dusts off her salty fingers. “Let’s do this.”

I creep out from behind the bar and open the door. There’s no line today, as the excitement of the bar opening died down. Fable warned me tonight would be the genuine test.

And it is. All night, people and creatures trickle in, keeping up a steady flow. Cecilia mans the bar while her sister serves and busses tables.

I still don’t know what purpose Garrett serves aside from mingling and keeping everyone entertained. Dede buzzes around, acting as a waitress and giving orders to Esme, who I left alone in the kitchen. I still have yet to meet the elusive brownie, but I have patience—kind of.

As for me? I help with drink orders and serve here and there when patrons ask about me. Mostly, I stay in my corner of the bar, cleaning the counters, wiping down glasses, and bussing.

My thoughts swirl for hours, my mind wandering while my hands remain busy.

The sisters pointed out the biggest flaw in my life right now.

I’ve spread myself too thin.

By keeping busy and taking on far more than I could ever chew just to keep my mind off the twins, Nik, and now Jasper, I created the perfect storm for burnout. That doesn’t even include the many calls I had to deny from my john alone.

The worst part? I like it here. Even if the twins created this place, this legacy, I love it. Usually, I know whether or not I will get bored with something pretty quickly, and the potential to never be bored taunts me, telling me that this is my fate.

This is where I belong.

Maybe it’s the chaotic feeling of people coming in and out all night, or the conversations that ebb and flow, ever-changing, but something about the energy of this bar feeds my soul in a way nothing in this world ever has. Coming from an adrenaline junkie, that’s saying something.

“Ms. Pepper,” Fable says, my name drawing me out of my thoughts. I look over to the big guy, and his red eyes flare for a moment. “There’s a problem.”

I look around the bar. It’s just after midnight, and there are a few faces I remember from last night, but overall, it’s quiet.

“Outside,” he tacks on.

“What’s going on?” I don’t hear anything, just the chatter of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. I set my glass down and move around Cecilia while wiping my hands off on a towel.

“Hey, we are almost out of fae mead,” she calls over her shoulder.

Nerves flutter in my belly because I’ll have to contact the twins to figure out how to pick up said mead. “A barrel of mead, got it,” I reply, moving behind her and making a mental note to take inventory.

Fable’s stoic gaze scans the bar. He takes his position as bouncer seriously.

“You said there’s trouble?” I toss the rag on the bar behind me and follow him outside. Crisp October air fills my lungs. Here, a few patrons are enjoying the fantastic night under the fairy lights strung up on the small patio.

“Sniff,” he grunts.

“You want me to smell the air?” I hide my smile, because this gentle giant is still as can be, his red eyes diligent as they scan over the crowd.

“Yes,” he says, returning to his position at the base of the steps.

I inhale slowly, peering around the patio. Once more, the cold air rushes into my lungs, and I take a moment to savor it. Not being able to breathe does a thing or two to a gal, so I appreciate every second now.

Chatter fills the patio air, and I feel an odd little tug in my center as though someone with incredible rope skills strung me up and now leads me around the side of the bar.

When one first looks at the bar, they will see a small fence to the right that kisses the sidewalk. The space between has several small round tables that people can use if the bar gets overpacked. To the left, a privacy fence stretches out to the sidewalk and down the street. Inside is a deck area with more lights and tables. That’s where I head now. There are two entrances—the one I’m about to walk through and a second at the other end.

It’s the second opening that draws my attention.

The lights zigzag from the bar to the high fence, illuminating pale and tan faces. I pay them no mind as I pause at the threshold. Although I feel their gazes, their conversation doesn’t die.

I scan each of them, memorizing their faces, until I finally pick up on what Fable warned me about.

“You smell it?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I feel it.” I rub my chest as that rope pulls just a little tighter. That’s when I see the light at the end of the deck.

A cigarette flares as someone takes a slow drag. He’s almost completely in shadow, and for a moment, my heart beats harder in my chest, thinking it’s Jasper.

It isn’t. I know that as sure as I know my name.

Whoever this creature is, he’s talking to a table at the end where a group of women sits. In their late thirties or early forties, these women look like they know what they want out of life and aren’t afraid to pursue it. Their glasses are full of peach crushes, and crumbles lie on plates that are scattered between them.

Nothing seems amiss. Nothing except for the hollow pit in my stomach that is screaming this person leaning against the bar, just outside of range, is dangerous—or that what he represents is dangerous.

I step to the right, where I casually lean against the bar. Pulling out a pack of my own smokes, I tap the little box against my palm.

I haven’t smoked in years, but I carry one on my person at all times. Why?

This time, instead of just resting the cigarette between my lips, I light it. Mirroring the stranger’s actions, I inhale long and slow, savoring the menthol that slips past my lips and dives into my lungs. “Fable,” I murmur, but I keep my eyes trained on the guy. I exhale a smoke ring. Still got it.

“Ms. Pepper.”

I glance down at my cigarette, seeing the black lipstick sticking to the white. The mixture holds a unique poison that has no effect on me, but my lover?

It’ll kill them.

“What is the range of protection on the bar?” I ask, even though I can slightly feel it.

“Sidewalk to the back door,” he replies easily.

“And where he’s standing?”

“The man smoking the cigarette?”

“Yes.”

“In range.” He adjusts his head, his eyes flaring red. “Just barely.”

“That’s what I thought.” I take another slow drag, content to just watch and wait. The blade on my thigh burns, and my fingers itch to use the weapon.

“He’s what I smell, isn’t he, Ms. Pepper?”

“What does he smell like to you?” I glance up at the gargoyle, feeling calmer from how warm and genuine he is. He’s soft-spoken even though his voice is deep and gritty. There is also a loyalty in his aura that makes me feel like a shitty person because he’s here, devoting his time to me, but I’m also thankful for him.

I will protect this creature at all costs.

“Hard to describe it, Ms. Pepper.” He jerks his head in the man’s direction just as he takes another drag of his smoke. “It isn’t stinky, even if it is dead-like.”

Alarm bells ring in my head, and I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth. That’s just a coincidence, right? “Dead how?” I press.

“Ever smell a vampire?”

“No, actually.” I don’t even think I’ve ever met a single one. Maybe I’ll ask Cassie to bring her master by.

“Good, it’s nothing like that.” He says it so seriously I almost laugh. “Nor is it the floral scent of a reaper.” He snaps his fingers. “Nothing like a rotting corpse.”

“Fable.” I lay a gentle hand on his thick arm. “Focus.”

He takes a deep breath before blowing it out. “It smells like impending death. Yeah, impending death. Like a hospital ICU.”

I close my eyes and inhale, smelling nothing but ozone. My eyes flash open. That’s what it is—the scent before a thunderstorm mixed with the salt of the sea.

Dread.

“What are you going to do, Ms. Pepper?” He points at the man. “He doesn’t smell right.”

“He doesn’t, does he? But I can’t kick him out, can I?” I look to Fable for confirmation.

“No, ma’am, he ain’t done nothing wrong.”

I nod. “Then I wait for him to do something wrong. I’ll just finish my—”

“Pepper.” Fable turns me to look at the man who’s now daring to sit at the table with the women.

They look interested in what he has to say.

My gut flares to life, and something inside me demands I react. Now.

My hand slips to my thigh, and I grip the pencil thin blade. “Don’t fail me now, Artie,” I whisper, and in one smooth motion, I grab the knife and throw it with Artemis’s blessing, a gift she gave to each of her daughters. Aim true with intent. The short of it? I will always hit my target.

I sigh with relief as the thin blade sinks into the back of his neck, dead center, severing his spine.

“Ms. Pepper!” Fable gasps. “He ain’t done nothing wrong.”

My gut says otherwise. “Eh.” I finish my cigarette and put it out in a nearby ashtray. People haven’t even reacted yet.

“Wait. The alarms aren’t blaring,” he notes.

“Could have warned me about that, Fable.” I wince as one woman notices the knife in the guy’s neck. “Clean up time.”

I stalk across the deck as others scramble up. Thank the deities this is an immortal bar, because if it were a mortal one, there would be more screams following that lady’s initial shriek.

“You killed him,” she accuses me as I approach the table, grab my knife, and jerk it out of his neck. I am not losing this one. I watch without emotion as his head slams down on the table while I wipe my blade off on my skirt.

“You know this man?” I ask the four women.

“That was an incredible throw,” one woman gushes.

Not the point, but I say, “Appreciated it.” I wave my hand around the man’s body. “Who?”

All four women shake their heads, and I feel a crowd growing behind me.

“He was trying to sell us a drug,” one woman answers.

I grip his greasy black hair and rip his head up. Blood pours from the small yet deadly wound, and I note with a strange detachment that he’s still alive. “Drugs?” I am so judging this asshole.

He gurgles in response.

“Pocket.” One woman points. “Check his pockets.”

I nod, but first, I glance behind me. “Fable, can you manage the crowd and send out… Garrett.” Dammit, the little shit was right. I’m going to need body disposal.

“On it, Ms. Pepper.”

Turning back to the dying man, I take note of him. He’s slimy, that’s for sure, in that drug dealer mafia way, like he’s the lowest of the low on the totem pole. His death probably won’t mean a damn thing to those who manage him.

Wearing a thick gold chain with chest hairs creeping up between them, he looks skeevy. His white button-down shirt gapes open from missing buttons and shows me more than I ever wanted to see. A single pocket on his chest gapes open, and I almost don’t want to reach in there and grab the gold foil packet peeking out.

It looks like a condom. My gut says otherwise.

“Look at you being all peacekeepery and shit.” Dede flutters to sit on my shoulder. “I leave you alone for one minute.”

“A pixie!” one woman exclaims.

“Ladies. If you didn’t know him, go away.”

“Rude.” One snorts, but they all get up and walk over to where Fable is ushering others away.

“What’s he smell like to you, De?” She buzzes around him as he gurgles again. “No fight in him,” I mutter.

“You severed his spine, witchy spice.”

Smiling, I look at her with an odd sense of pride. “Sure did.” Under my breath, I mutter, “Thanks, Artemis.”

Rolling her eyes, she buzzes around his head. “Smells like death.” She sneezes, somehow knocking herself backward and right into an umbrella.

Now I really don’t want to grab that packet. “Better be a condom,” I say, though my gut knows otherwise. A condom would be better than what I think it is. My fingers grip the edge of the gold foil, and I pull it out.

That’s when I feel it—the terror.

Chapter 10

Nikko

“We need to talk.” Amy’s soft voice flows over the line like a gentle breeze, ghosting over my nerves as though her fingertips glide over my chest.

When her words settle inside of me, and I finally register them, my heart skips a beat and then promptly jumps into my throat, causing me to let out a strangled cough. Sweat beads along my palms, and I rub them down my dark jeans. I guess we are doing this now.

Her sigh gusts over the line, oh so soft, and I’m a bastard because I can only think of how Pepper would sound on the phone.

Would she sigh like that, waiting for me to say something? Anything?

No. Not my Pepper. She would cut to the point, no pussy footing around, and that’s the problem.

Pepper isn’t mine.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I finally reply as Amy remains patient over the line. “You’re right.”

The silence becomes deafening. My car heats up inside, even though I cut the engine the moment she called me.

“Nikko,” she says on an exhale, and I can tell she’s gearing up to let me go. It’s been coming for days.

The fights.

The comparisons.

She cannot help but ask questions I can never answer.

Who is she to you? Why can’t you let her go? Why did you work at the bar?

The worst part out of everything is Pepper was right. Amy deserves better. Hell, Pepper deserves better. I never meant to hurt either of them.

My intent is meaningless here. I’ve proven time and time again that my actions speak louder than my words, louder than my intent.

“Amy,” I interject before she can say anything more. Nerves pummel my gut, causing it to clench and contract. “You deserve better.”

“I do. You’re right.” Again, there’s that gusty sigh. It’s as though she’s holding back from telling me how she really feels, and that just doesn’t sit right with me.

“I didn’t want to do this over the phone.” I damn near hang my head. “You are an incredible cop and will do amazing things in the department.”

“That’s what I do, Nikko. Not who I am,” she scoffs, and I wince, because dammit, my ass is being handed to me here.

“You’re right.” I swallow, and it’s loud in my quiet car. “Amy, you are kind and generous and so damn genuinely sweet.” So sweet it makes my teeth ache. Hell, when she first started on the force, the captain said she was too goddamn sweet and she’d never survive the streets, so he paired her with me because I vouched for her. After all, I wanted to see her thrive, I knew she could thrive, except it was just barely. Even now, her hands shake when she lifts her gun, yet she’s getting stronger. It took me until this moment to think that maybe the captain was right.

“Let’s make this easy.” Her voice doesn’t shake, and that’s how I know this is the right thing to do. My nerves came to life at her words, but it’s because I didn’t want to hurt her. She doesn’t sound hurt. Hell, she sounds as though she knew this moment was inevitable.

Just like I did.

“Easy,” I echo, because nothing about this is easy.

“I’ll give you until the end of the week to move out.” Her voice firms. Yeah, she’s hurt, and I deserve all her ire. “You really don’t have that much here anyway.”

That’s because I never fully moved in. Some of my things collect dust in my father’s guesthouse, the one I’ve lived in off and on for the better half of a decade.

“Thank you.”

She scoffs at my thanks. I deserved that. “Did you tell her?”

“What?” She catches me off guard, and I’m not entirely sure how to handle this.

“Pepper.” She pauses as sweat beads on my brow. “Have you told her you love her?”

“I…” How the hell does one even handle this moment?

“You should tell her,” comes Amy’s reply, throwing me off my game.

“It isn’t that easy,” I admit, because I can’t divulge that Pepper is a witch… that she could potentially have multiple partners.

That life isn’t for me. I’m not sure I could ever share her with another. I’m not sure I’d ever even want to.

“Want my advice?” That’s Amy, always looking out for others before herself. “You’ve been in love with her since long before we met. I always knew there was someone out there you loved whom you kept your distance from for whatever reason. Nik, is that reason worth the hell you are putting yourself through by not allowing yourself the love you so desperately feel?”

My jaw drops, and my tongue swells in my mouth.

I can’t reply to that, and I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to.

“Whatever is holding you back, Nik, you need to let it go,” she whispers before the line clicks.

I drop the phone in my lap and dig my palms into my eyes, allowing black dots to dance in my vision before I rub it away.

No matter what she thinks, it still isn’t that easy.

Either way, I’m here with a job to do.

I’m out a partner now. I was supposed to bring Amy into the fold and allow her to stumble into the immortal world. Still, after reporting to my captain this morning, we both made the call that it was a bad idea.

Pushing it to the side, I call him because who else am I supposed to call? I’m about to enter hell, and I need someone to know where I am.

Just in case.

“Perez,” comes his gruff reply. “Any leads?”

“I’m about to go hunt one down now.” Here comes the part he won’t like. “I have to enter the web.”

“Nikko.” I can hear it in his voice, he’s about to lecture me about the dangers of entering the immortal web without backup.

He’s right, I shouldn’t go in, except the easy way out is to run away, and that isn’t a part of the oath I took to protect this city. “I know.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Amy just broke up with me.”

“About time.” He grunts. “Look, I’ll put her on desk duty until I can find a slot for her. Somewhere.”

“K-9,” I blurt. “She loves dogs.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah, fuck, who are we going to bring in? I can’t keep doing this on my own.” There, I said it. It’s the truth I’ve been feeling for years now.

“I have an idea,” he says with guarded words, as though he doesn’t really want to say what he’s thinking.

I won’t like it. “No.” I’m shaking my head before he can even speak. Hell, he could be thinking of the damn fae working in records, or even the shifter on traffic patrol.

“Pepper,” he blurts out before rushing on. “I know who she is to the city now, and until I find you a partner within the PD, take Pepper with you.”

“No,” I tell my captain, my mouth drying up. I can’t put her in danger ever again, or hell, put her undercover even if she did that shit on her own. The thought of her with anyone else… I just can’t do it.

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“I just told her she can’t help anymore.”

“Without my permission.” He sighs over the line. “Look, I get it, she’s your childhood friend, and you don’t want to see her hurt. She’s one of the best damn…” He trails off, because Pepper isn’t a cop or a private investigator.

She’s so much more than either of those things.

“Just run it by her.” He pauses. “Or I will.”

I thump my head back on the seat. I should have just texted him. That would have saved me this entire conversation. “I’m going in.”

“You still need backup.”

“That’s what I’m doing here.” I wince when I raise my voice at him. “I’ll let you know when I’m out.” The words aren’t the assurance he’s looking for, but it is all I can give him. I hang up quickly because I don’t need another lesson on how I’m taking risks I can’t come back from.

Leaving my phone in the car, I quickly lock it. I’m not in the best part of the city, but I drove my beat-up Pontiac that came straight out of the nineties.

There isn’t a lot of worth in it anymore.

There are a few ways to enter the web—some backdoors, and some public. Most of the back doors hide in the abandoned Philadelphia subway tunnels, while others are in plain sight, like those little shops that people pass every day, the ones they look at and ignore because they appear as though no one would ever enter.

Tarot shops, gem shops, hell, even some cafes.

As a human, I don’t belong in the web, so it’s best if I enter through a back door. Flipping up my black hoodie, I allow the edge to drape over my eyes as I creep down a set of side steps.

It’s just past midnight, so the web will be busy, and I’m hoping to just blend in with the crowd of criminals and murders of the worst caliber.

What the hell am I thinking?

My feet stumble, and I grip the rusty railing. Dammit, I need Jasper. Despite what the captain said, I will honor Pepper’s wish and leave her out of this.

Steeling my spine, I step onto the abandoned platform. There’s barely any light, and I don’t dare turn on a flashlight. That alone screams human.

I need to fake it until I find Jasper.

I’ve been in worse situations, ones that I tamp down because as soon as I think about their existence, they try to suffocate me.

A few individuals hover over a trash can where flames lick at their faces. One man glances up at me, his eyes glowing an eerie green, and I swallow my reaction as his pupils slit.

I don’t belong here.

I stand straighter and move down the platform onto the abandoned line. Darkness swells all around me, and the scent of trash pollutes the air. Light flickers here and there, keeping me from tripping over my own two feet.

Many people sit slumped over themselves, their fires dying out, but their eyes track me as I walk. I shove my hands in my pockets while the weight of my guns sits heavily against my ribs.

I just have to act as though I belong.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been here, except the last time I was with the twins. My hands clench in my pockets just thinking about them.

Assholes.

I’m still bitter that they ran off. They didn’t just leave Pepper, they left me. Even though my family is enormous, and I love all of my siblings, those two felt like my brothers as well. Hell, even when Pepper wasn’t around, we hung out. She was just the catalyst.

I snort. Pepper is a catalyst. She now looks like a curvy dark fairy, and seeing her today twisted something inside me.

Amy is right. I need to tell her. Just not yet.

The entrance remains open for anyone daring to enter the web. Long ago, the city built these subways then abandoned them just as fast. Immortals quickly moved in, trying their best to stay out of the human eye. I’ve often thought it would be safer for them to move out of the city and into the woods where they’d have free rein.

I didn’t get it until Donovan and Connor brought me in here. They pulled the wool off my eyes, daring me to step into their world.

I step through the dark archway and into the bleak darkness, and magic slides over my skin like a spiderweb. This is where many humans would turn back, thinking that feeling is an actual spiderweb, one they just ran headfirst into.

“Keep going.” Donovan pats me on the back.

Sputtering, I try not to let the feeling of spiders crawling over my body get to me, but it’s hard as fuck.

“Come on, mortal, show us what you’re made of,” Connor taunts. “You wanted to understand, so the best way is—”

“Baptism by fire,” I spit at him. “I get it, but why is it so damn dark?”

“Because we live in the shadows, Nik,” Donovan replies.

The darkness swells and expands until I can feel my ears threatening to pop.

“Mortals kill what they fear, Nik.” Connor tugs on my arm, keeping me with them so I don’t get lost in the dark. “I’d rather not die.”

“Why not live somewhere spacious? Why here? They could thrive in a forest, even a jungle. Why a city?” I shudder as the feeling of walking into a web almost becomes too much to handle.

That’s when the darkness pops along with my ears, and I get it.

Just like then, I step out into the bustling web.

When the immortal community moved in, they dug and dug until they created a city well below the city.

The underground.

The web.

The street opens up ahead. Cobblestones glisten with dampness as they trail through the web. Buildings line the way on either side of me, rising to the ceiling. A second-story walkway overlooks the main street with a simple railing. Tunnels break up the street in a web-like pattern, spinning out for miles where they continually break off. Orbs float overhead, lighting the way, while chatter fills the sidewalk.

I didn’t understand until I saw this. Immortals are a lot like mortals. They desire that feeling of community, of solidarity only a collective can provide. A place where anything they could ever need is well within their reach.

They live here for the same reasons that mortals move to cities—opportunity, medical care, culture, and education—especially for those deemed evil, vile, or too mutinous to thrive above. Even the villains need some kind of security.

Some live down here year-round in the dark, while others enter just when they need things. It’s darker than that though. Those walking beside me? They aren’t good immortals. Sure, some dare to enter like me. Mostly, though, those who choose to live down here aren’t angels.

I step off the main path and onto a small walkway, where I pass several storefronts. The scent of piss and death charges the air, causing me to breathe through my mouth. I’m not completely sure where I can find Jasper, but I have a general idea of where he could hide. I’ve suspected long ago he doesn’t live down here. He’s far too solitary for that shit.

He prowls down here like a bored cat. I’m just hoping it pays off for me, but the fact remains that I might not find him at all.

A few people at Pepper’s bar the other night let it slip that he likes to hang out at a particular spot down here.

I almost didn’t believe what they said, and I didn’t want to let on that I was eavesdropping to double-check their words.

I took a chance on their conversation and came here.

Apparently, the demon has a soft spot for kittens and books.

I take a right down a little side street and step onto the damp path. It’s a little more cramped here, and there is no second-story pathway, just little houses that look like row homes that reach the ceiling. My booted feet crunch along the pathway until I reach a fork in the road. A little shop sits in the middle of the fork. The edges are smooth and rounded, and a glass door sits open invitingly, while a little sign reads Kitty Korner.

Cats practically spill out of the shop that I now know is a bookstore of all things dark and mysterious.

Forcing my feet to move, I climb the steps and swallow. There’s no foyer, just stacks upon stacks of books. Hell, I don’t even see a counter, just cats and leather chairs dotted around the space.

The scent of leather teases my nose as I enter the dwelling and walk down the aisles. Not a lick of fiction decorates these shelves.

Books like The History of Poison and The Aging Vampire sit dusty and untouched. I don’t think Jasper comes here for the books.

At the end of the aisle, a long stretch of shelves rises before me. I peer left, then right, seeing nothing and no one but the damn cats.

One purrs at my feet, winding between my legs. I crouch down and run my hand through the fur of an orange tabby. “I’m looking for Jasper,” I whisper.

The cat blinks up at me like I’m an idiot that does not belong here. The cat is right on both accounts.

I tack on, “Please,” before groaning and looking at the ceiling. I bite my lip to stop myself from sending a prayer to whatever deity listens to those. My eyes dart back to the smug feline at my feet.

I swear the cat chuffs at me before winding down the aisle. I follow because, dammit, what else am I supposed to do? Walk out? The cat glances back at me with knowing eyes, daring me to walk out of here.

“I hear you’re looking for me,” a voice whispers in my ear, causing all the hair on my neck to stand on end.

I suppress my initial need to spin around and shove him. Glancing over my shoulder, I find Jasper standing with his usual hoodie draped over his face. He’s far too close to me. “I am.”

“They say,” he drawls, and I can hear the amusement in his voice, “that imitation is the highest form of flattery, but, uh...” He flips my hood off my head. “I don’t like it.” That’s when he leans in and licks my ear.

I spin around, wiping off his spit, thankful we are in a darkened aisle with only the cats as witnesses. Gritting my teeth, I tell him my purpose for coming down here. “I need your help.”

He leans against the bookshelf, one elbow resting against the dusty shelf while his other hand dips into the shadows of his hood.

I can’t make out his facial features, just glances of gray bone. Dammit, he’s creepy.

“What, pray tell, doth the mortal need?” Again, there’s amusement in his tone.

“Not here.”

“Yes, here.”

“Jasper,” I hiss, leaning in because this demon isn’t making my life easy. “I’m serious.”

He leans closer to me, smelling like the crisp night air. “As am I.” The ornery demon sniffs me before he adds, “The way I see it, the only reason your head is still attached is because you smell like her.”

Pepper. He means Pepper.

“Someone found a body this morning.”

“Not my problem.” He chuckles then grips the string to my hoodie, playing with it. “Bodies pop up all over the place. Dead, alive, undead. You name it. Still not my problem.”

Knowing the only way he will help me is if I use the Pepper card, I do just that. “Pepper was helping me.” His fingers grip my strings and yank, causing the hoodie to tighten around my neck. “She stopped breathing when her magic touched the body.”

The next breath burns as I struggle to take it. Jasper moves quietly, stealthily. The back of my neck presses into the shelf behind me while his fingers circle my throat, his other hand continuing to play lazily with the strings of my hoodie.

“I want to break you,” Jasper comments noncommittally, as though he’s unsure if he will commit to hurting me. My hands slam over his, the very one holding me in place. I’m no weakling, but I am nothing compared to a demon.

I’m not fooled. As I attempt to gasp, his face comes into view. It’s nothing more than a gray skeleton peeking out of the shadows of his hoodie.

“Shhhh, princess, don’t talk.” His breath gusts over my face. “You had one job, one fucking job I trusted you with—keep the witch safe.” He tsks as I twitch from the lack of air. “I know it burns, but I need to know how long you’ll last.”

Psychotic asshole.

“You want to take that breath so badly, don’t you, princess?” He leans in even closer, the shadows of his hoodie reaching out to caress my face. It’s erotic, confusing, and, most of all, deadly. His body shudders as mine convulses, and he only tightens his hand on my neck. “Fuck, you look so hot trying to breathe,” he hisses against my cheek. “I don’t know if this is enough of a lesson for you.”

I’m going to kill him.

“Tell me, are you as hard as I am right now?” He presses closer, but not close enough that I can confirm his words.

I never should have shown up here. Demons have no morals.

“I should bring you to my warehouse, string you up, and give you a proper punishment for getting my girl hurt.” He sighs just as black dots dance in my vision. “Time is up, and I need to know if she is okay.”

He drops me, and I crumple. My hands fly to my neck as I gulp down air, and my whole body convulses and shakes. Ever so slowly, Jasper crouches before me, a smile on his skeletal face.

“Well?” he prompts.

“Okay.” Damn, my throat burns.

“I know you are telling me she is okay, but I will need you to use your words.” He leans back a little, studying me. Then, quicker than I can blink, he loosens my hoodie. “That’s better.”

I will not thank this asshole. “She’s okay. She’s fucking okay.” I gasp as I reply.

“Oh, would you look at that?” His fingertip brushes along my throat. “I left a love mark.”

Finally getting my shit together, I slap his hand away. “Fuck off.”

“Rawr.” He swipes invisible paws in the air. “Kitty’s got claws.”

I lean back, ignoring the demon before me. My eyes remain open, however, and Jasper is in my peripheral. Exhaling slowly, I flick my eyes back at him. “Terror.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Squeeze me?”

Jasper acts like a child. “She touched the dead body with her magic and felt terror.”

All joking leaves him, and once more, his hands snap out. I can’t say I don’t flinch, because I do. I don’t know if he is going to hurt me or not. “Terror,” he repeats. “She couldn’t breathe?”

“No.”

His hands curl along my neckline, and he drags me toward him. “Lead with the vital nouns next time.” He lifts me up and settles me on my feet. “Come along. We will discuss my terms and conditions along the way.”

“What?” I gape at him as he walks down the aisle.

“Use your ears,” he says slowly. “They are for listening.”

“Dammit, Jasper.”

“Shhhh. Princess, only use my name when I’m balls deep in that tight ass of yours.” He spins back around, and I wish like hell I could see his face.

“What?” I screech.

“I don’t like that noise as much. It should be more like, ‘Oh.’” He lets out a long, throaty moan. “Keep up.”

“Dios mío, he hecho un trato con el diablo,” I mutter to myself.

“Please whisper sweet nothings to me in Spanish.” He pauses and turns around at the end of the aisle when he realizes I haven’t followed him yet. “And no, you did not make a deal with the devil. Just a demon. Now keep up, princess, I don’t have all night.” To himself, he mutters, “Got a guy strung up, and I don’t want him to die just yet.”

“You can’t say that shit.” I jog to catch up to him.

“Now,” he says, completely ignoring me and ushering me out of the bookstore, “first things first—never come here without a designated immortal.” He claps me on the back so hard I stumble. “You’re being watched. Luckily, I claim you, so the naughty creatures won’t try to steal you and make you their plaything.”

I right myself and look up, seeing eyes peering at me from the windows. Swallowing, I shudder and glance at Jasper, who waves at the houses like a Disney princess.

“What would you have done without me? Don’t answer that, I already know. You’d die.” Then, on a more serious note, he says, “You’ll owe me for that too, but let’s start with my expertise.”

“What do you want?” I grumble and follow him out onto the bustling street. It’s busier than earlier, and more eyes are on me now. I can’t decide if they are looking at me or the evil walking at my side.

“Ah, yes, my terms and conditions.” I swear there is a smile in his tone. “Who is Pepper to you?”

Not this again. “My friend.”

“Ah, did she friend zone you, or did you friend zone her?” He pauses, waving a hand in the air. “Better question. What if I fucked her from behind, and she swallowed that thick cock of yours? I bet it’s thick, isn’t it? A sexy Hispanic like you.”

Did he just objectify me?

There’s no way he just said that, except the visual… I grind my teeth to keep from reacting and blink at him.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” He nods to himself. “Alright, harem it is.”

“Can you focus?”

“This is me focused.” He grips the fabric of my hoodie and pushes me through the tunnel where darkness swallows us. Only this time, it feels just a fraction different. Colder. More desolate. A chill seeps into my bones, making my teeth chatter, and there’s no feeling of spiderwebs.

Jasper tosses me out of the tunnel and onto a— “What the hell? That’s my car.”

“I’m driving.” He jangles my keys.

“How?”

“I’m a demon, princess.”

“You’re a demon princess?” I right myself while glaring at him.

“Punctuation is important.” He pauses, then adds, “Princess.”

“Dios mío,” I mutter but go to the passenger side.

“Good girl.”

“Jasper,” I hiss. How are people even afraid of him? He’s like an overgrown man-child. “Please.”

“Keep begging, princess.” He opens the door and slides in, starting the car with ease. Once we are shut in, though, he turns serious and flips his hoodie down, revealing both handsome and frightening features.

His eyes are the blackest of coals set on a scarred face—his death marks. Demons and daemons, however spoken, are the same. They lived heroic lives by blurring the lines of good and evil. The slice that causes death is also their rebirth.

Someone lobbed his head in two. I can’t say I blame that person.

I’m sure he was as handsome as any once upon a time. Dark, windswept hair brushes a pale forehead, and even I can appreciate his Asian features. He has high cheekbones, pouty lips, and a five o’clock shadow that rivals mine.

“Keep looking at me like that, princess, and I’ll treat you like a dirty whore.”

“I’m not gay,” I blurt out. What the hell is wrong with me? My words just indicated that I’m a homophobic asshole.

“No need to go all in and kink shame.” He leans in, and I back against the door, trying like hell to get him out of my three-foot radius. “You aren’t straight. I can smell your lust, mortal.”

“Just fucking drive.”

“Right up that ass.” He smirks at me, and it’s a cruel thing full of a promise that both intrigues and disturbs me. “Let’s chat. You owe me.”

“I regret you.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling like Pepper as I spit the words out. Luckily my phone rings, giving me an out. I reach out and grab my phone, which is resting right where I left it. Lighting up my phone is a picture of a psycho bunny with blood dripping from its teeth. “Conejita.”

“Speakerphone.” Jasper slams on the brakes and glares at me.

Rolling my eyes, I flip it to speaker just as Pepper begins. “Hey, Angel.” She’s using the voice she uses when she either wants something or—

“What did you do?”

“Bar time, got it.” Jasper slams on the gas, and with no awareness of others, he weaves in and out of traffic.

“If we crash, I will die,” I growl at him.

“I know a fabulous necromancer.”

“Is that Jasper?” Pepper questions with too much interest.

“Yeah, kitty,” Jasper coos. Coos.

“Perfect, I might need both of you.” She sighs, and unlike Amy, Pepper’s is full of irritation that she’s even admitted to that.

Jasper gives me a pointed look, and all I can think of is the sexual image he planted in my head earlier.

Dios Mio.

“What happened?” I ask with a strangled voice.

“Shut the fuck up,” she yells in the background. “You can’t eat him yet.”

“Kitty,” Jasper drawls out, “do you need help hiding a body?” Why is he excited over that?

Pepper doesn’t say a damn thing until, finally, she replies, “Yeah, kind of.”

“Pepper.” I groan. “I’m a fucking cop. You can’t incriminate yourself like this.”

“Mortal rules need not apply,” she quips.

“Yeah, princess.” Jasper turns way too sharply, and I slam into the window. “My precious passenger princess.”

I’m going to stab him.

Heaving out a breath, I focus on Pepper. “We are ten minutes out.”

“Perfect, then I’ll keep Garrett from eating the drug dealer.” She pauses. “And Nik, he feels like terror.” Was there a wobble in her voice?

The line clicks, and I stare at my phone, my stomach a bundle of nerves. “She sounded—”

“Scared,” Jasper growls, and darkness swells inside the car. “I’ll gut anyone who scares my girl.”

I gulp as the temperature drops. Jasper might be a man-child, but he’s terrifying, and he sees Pepper as his, which means he would probably kill anyone who dares to hurt her.

As a cop, I should have something to say about the morals and ethics of murder. Instead, all I feel is relief.

Not to mention I don’t feel an ounce of jealousy. What the hell does that say about me?

Chapter 11

Pepper

“Kitty!” Jasper yells loudly enough to wake the damn dead, or at least my little corner block in Roxy.

Glancing over my shoulder, I find the intriguing demon with his hoodie up, hiding his face, as he skips across the deck with a scowling Nikko hot on his trail. I don’t know what surprises me more—that Nikko took my advice and went to the web to find Jasper, or that Jasper came back here with him.

That’s all I get to think about, because Jasper sweeps me up and spins me around so that my back presses into the cool brick of the bar. One hand grips my hip while the other stretches across my neck, pinning me in place.

“You smell like I need to mark you,” he growls before burying his head in my neck.

I’m so thrown because the last time I saw him, he barely touched me, and now he’s mauling me in public. I like it, but now is not the time for his PDA. “Dead body.” I try to push him away from me, but he’s as immovable as a rock. Not to mention him being this close to me is doing something to my lady bits, and they need to chill. Priorities demand we take care of the dead body first.

“You called me for backup. I knew you would call.” Jasper licks my neck, and damn it, that is distracting.

“I called Nikko.” I glance at the scowling cop who steps up to Jasper, grips him by the hoodie, and spins him around to the dead guy I left slumped over the table.

“For now,” Jasper mutters, and I don’t know what he’s even referencing as he steps toward the corpse, his eyes narrowed.

Fable cleared the deck, funneling the last of the stragglers into the bar for last call. Dede passed out half an hour ago and is snoring soundly in the rafters. Garrett sits at a table mere feet away, his feet propped up on another chair while he sips from a martini glass with one pinky straight out. He’s been drooling over the dead body for the last hour, and I haven’t allowed him to eat.

Righting my clothing, I step around the table and sit beside the dead guy while pointing to a packet with gold foil, the one I thought was a condom.

It is not, in fact, a condom.

The air stills as Jasper glances around, finding it’s just us and my employees. The cold bites into my exposed thighs as I wait for Nik and Jasper to do something. They allow the body to stay where it is while rigor mortis sets in. My fingers drum on the tabletop as I wait impatiently.

This happens when I don’t get nearly enough sleep. I turn into a crabby bitch. That or my period is due.

“Huh,” Jasper mutters and reaches for the not condom packet.

“Don’t.” I slap a hand on his wrist, fear bursting out of me like I’m projectile vomiting it. “Don’t touch that.”

“Aww, kitty, are you worried about me?” he teases, and with his other hand, he flips his hood off.

For a moment, all I can do is stare at him. Last night, I didn’t pay him much mind as the bar demanded my attention and then the guy in his trunk. Now, under my little fairy lights, I get a look at the shadow of the immortal underground. I stand by my word that his scar only adds to his sex appeal.

He’s beautiful, with his dark hair, inky black eyes, and a shadow of a beard that makes my fingers itch to feel his stubble. His sharp cheekbones almost hold a razor’s edge highlighted by the moon herself.

“No,” I lie when I finally answer him. I don’t want him to touch that packet because I don’t know what the hell it is.

Jasper’s lips quirk, seeing through my lie. He breaks my hold and reaches for the packet.

I hold my breath as I wait for him to react.

“You feel nothing?” Nikko asks as he comes to stand by Jasper’s side.

The two of them standing beside each other resemble the darkest drink of hell I’ve been craving. I want Jasper to follow up on his promise to destroy me, and I want him to bring Nikko along for the ride.

Focus, Pepper, I scold myself.

“Didn’t say that, princess,” Jasper mutters, but it’s a distracted reply. That’s the only reason I don’t bug him about calling Nikko princess.

“Then what, oh great and powerful demon, do you suspect?” Nikko crosses his arms, irritated with Jasper.

“So you admit it.” Jasper’s lips twitch, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Despite his reputation, this man smiles often, and that only intrigues me more because I can see him stabbing someone while laughing maniacally at the moon.

“I admit nothing,” Nikko growls.

“You did. You just admitted that I am all great and powerful.” Jasper drops his hand and turns to Nikko. “You just said it.”

“Can you focus, for fuck’s sake?”

“Sake of fucks.”

“Guys.” I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Dead guy, focus.”

“Yeah, give him to the redcap before his blood is too far gone,” Jasper suggests, pushing the guy to the ground where he thuds on the wooden deck. “He’s nothing but a drug dealer anyway. He’s at the bottom of the totem pole, so no one will miss him.”

“About damn time. I have ghouls lined up to consume him.” Garrett sets his drink on the table before he waddles over to grab the guy. He shakes his ascot out with his other hand in the process. With an odd amount of strength, he grabs his arm and drags the guy to the fence, where he opens in and disappears a moment later.

“I can’t be here.” Nikko pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not an accomplice, an accessory to concealing a body.”

“Too much paperwork?” I tease.

“No, I have to uphold the law.” Nikko tenses, and his jaw grinds.

With a snort, I mutter, “There’s no immortal law here, Nik.”

“Yes there is,” Jasper interrupts. “You.” He reaches out and grips a lock of my hair. The action is far too gentle for the creature deemed as scary as he is.

My mind plays catch up, and I stand, dislodging Jasper as I take a cautious step back. I want him beneath me while I grind until my heart’s content, but that’s nothing more than a fantasy right now. Playing the immortal law? Yeah, I don’t have the wherewithal to deal with that.

“You two got this?” I clear my throat and go to step away.

“Ah.” Jasper reaches out and grips my waist. “Even if you are the peacekeeper only temporarily, you are still knee-deep in this.” He waves the gold packet in my face.

I rear back, not wanting it to touch me.

“He’s right, Ms. Pepper.” Fable steps out from his post. “You killed the drug dealer. He was carrying something dangerous. It’s your duty as peacekeeper to look into it.”

I grind my teeth and glance at Nikko, my nostrils flaring.

“I’m sorry, Conejita.” Dark circles line Nik’s eyes, and his voice fills with pain. “If I could keep you out of this, I would. In fact, I tried.” He looks pointedly at Jasper.

Jasper leans in and whispers in my ear. “We are a team now, kitten.” He’s far too excited about this.

I don’t pay either of them any mind and instead turn to Fable for support. “There’s no getting around this?”

“No, ma’am. He brought that on neutral territory.” He tilts his head to the side. “You can call the previous owners.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” I curse under my breath and step away from Jasper, again to focus on the problem glaring at me in the form of a gold packet. “What is it?”

Jasper ignores my question, opting for one of his own. “We need a team name.”

“What the fuck is in the packet, Jasper?” Nikko asks.

“Team name first.” He tilts his head up, refusing to answer that crucial question, even though I know it’s terror of some kind. Hell, for all I know, when he opens that packet, a death eater will come flying out of it.

“Pepper’s Potentials,” I blurt.

Jasper’s smile is wide and teasing. “Potentials.”

“Alpha Team,” Nikko counters.

“Poly One,” Jasper adds.

“This is a terrible idea,” I mutter, feeling cranky and tired.

“Fine, it’s a work in progress.” Jasper lets it drop, along with the gold packet on the table. “Drugs.”

“There’s utter terror in that packet,” I point out.

“Yes, and only your magic is picking up on that.” Jasper turns serious. “What kind of witch are you, kitten?” He smiles as he asks that question as though I’m a puzzle he is itching to piece together.

“Moving on.” I push past his questions. “Terror drugs?”

“Let’s find out.” He opens the packet, and I take a cautious step back.

I hate my reaction, so instead, I plant my feet like the bad bitch I am. No death eaters spill out, but two little round black pills skitter across the table. “They really are drugs.”

“I wonder…” Nikko hovers over the pills, not daring to pick them up.

“You said you found a body earlier?” Jasper puts the pills back into the packet and pockets it. “Let’s go.”

“The body is at the morgue,” Nikko mutters. “It’s not only closed but locked up.”

“Then we break in.” Jasper smiles and turns to me. “Come on, kitten.”

“Breaking and entering. Only twenty-four hours as a peacekeeper, and I’m committing felonies.”

“I’m taking that as a yes.” Jasper grabs my hand. “I’m driving.”

“I can’t.” Nikko drags his feet.

“You can, and you will, princess.” Jasper’s voice drops to a guttural growl.

“I am a detective. I can’t break any more laws. Hell, I already let a dead body be taken away by a fucking fairy!” I can see the turmoil on Nik’s face and the war waging inside him.

“Then don’t.” I made a promise to him yesterday, and this is me keeping that promise. “Go home, stop for ice cream on your way. Treat Amy. Treat yourself.”

Nik’s head rolls to the side. “I can’t.” He runs a hand down his face. “She broke up with me and kicked me out.”

Emotions swell inside of me. How am I supposed to react to this? Excitement threatens to burst out of me in the form of a smile, but dammit, that’s not just screwed up, it’s morally wrong. Clearly, Nik is feeling some kind of way about this. He needs to mourn their relationship, not have me push him against the wall and stick my tongue down his throat.

I give him something else instead. I reach into my skirt pocket and grab my keys. Stealing my hand back from Jasper, who does not want to give it up, I unwind my keys and hold out one he should know well.

“The garage key.” I wiggle it in front of him. “Go. Sleep. The cameras will give you an alibi in case we get caught.”

“Plausible deniability,” he murmurs to himself. “Dammit, Pepper.”

“Princess.” Jasper claps his hands. “Go get your morals screwed on straight, then call us.” He’s pissed off at Nik for not wanting to come.

A part of me gets it, but another part is steeped in irritation. He refused to help, and that slaps me in the face.

“We can wait until the sun comes up and the tech is in,” Nik argues.

“No can do.” Jasper’s eyes twinkle with menace. “Can’t have that body in there if he died from these little black pills.” He puts them in his pocket.

“Fuck. That’s what I was afraid of.” Nikko tugs at the strands of his hair. “Go.”

“I’ll confirm it later,” I assure him, but Jasper has my hand again and is dragging me to the sidewalk. “Fable, can you make sure Dede gets home?”

“Yes, Ms. Pepper,” comes his reply which follows me to the sidewalk, where Jasper pauses.

“I don’t have a car, but I want to drive.”

“We aren’t stealing a car.” I grip my keys and hand them over before walking to a beat-up Jeep a few houses away. “Coming?” I ask over my shoulder.

“That skirt is sinful!” Jasper damn near shouts down the street. “I want to see it up over your head.”

That’s all it takes for a laugh to bubble out of me. “Get in.” Half the time, I can’t tell if he is being serious or just flirty. My door creaks in the dead of night as I climb onto the rough seats of my Jeep and lean back. “Know where you’re going?”

“To the morgue.” He snorts as he starts the Jeep and pulls down the street. His presence swells in the cab, pressing in on me until I glance at him from the side.

Jasper is an anomaly, one I met years ago in the dead of night on my eighteenth birthday. I’d just run from Nikko because he caught me underage drinking, and he swore that night he would arrest me if he ever caught me committing another crime.

At least he didn’t catch me killing the drug dealer earlier.

Anyway, the twins locked me away to keep me safe when calls about a demon came in all across the city. From mortals. A red flag if there ever was one.

“Why do you stare at me?” He begins to fiddle with the radio, his fingers long and lean as they twist the dial.

“Six years ago,” I begin, only to hear him laugh, “what were you doing?”

“You mean what was I doing the night I promised to ruin you?” He side-eyes me before his long tongue sweeps out to lick along his bottom lip. It’s dirty and erotic, and I can’t help but wonder what else he can do with that tongue.

“That night.” He broke through all of the twins’ wards, and I never questioned it. Even now that I know what the twins were doing in the city, playing peacekeeper, I always figured it was because of them.

Am I foolish for wondering if it was for me?

“I like your hair,” he says instead, leaving the station on Eminem. “Suits you.”

“Some would say red suits me better.” He’s avoiding the question, and I’m unsure if I should push him or let it go.

“They are fools,” he spits. “Little witch, you are far too dark to allow yourself to look like an angel.”

“I feel like that should offend me.”

“Angels are pricks who think they are better than anyone else.” He bites his lip and looks at me with bedroom eyes. “Now demons? They get a bad rap, kitten, but you’ll never have to guess what a demon wants because he will tell you. You’ll never have to wonder where you stand because they will let you know. You? You’re dark and smoky like the best whiskey, and I guarantee your aura tastes like a demon’s.”

I hum under my throat. “What do you want from me, Jasper?”

“Under me.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Over me. Either way, I want inside of you. I want to make you mine and spread chaos.”

I laugh at that. “You’re bad for me, Jasper.”

“But you still want to taste me again, don’t you, kitten?” he asks, and my mind flashes to that night once again when he broke through the wards in Donovan’s apartment. He snuck in, promised to destroy me, then gave me my first kiss.

I clear my throat, seeing we are almost at the morgue. “What’s the play here, Jasper?”

“Go on a date with me.”

“What?” I laugh, not understanding if he is serious or tricking me. Honestly, it could be either. I can’t help how my heart stutters at his question though.

Nik was always off-limits.

The twins were always off-limits.

Jaspers is all but throwing himself at me, and now I want to be a cautious cunt. My pussy is screaming at me in denial.

I’ve had lovers here and there over the years, but many of them only lasted a night before I took off at the crack of dawn and moved on to the next adventure.

I purse my lips. Jasper’s eyes dip to my lips even though he should be watching the road. Sure, I joked about finding the demon in the flesh and asking for the pounding of my life.

He looks at me as though I mean something to him, as though I wouldn’t just be a one-night stand, and that’s all I ever wanted.

I gave my heart away years ago and wear the scars to prove it.

Jasper holds the promise that if I let him in, he will never leave, and I’ve never dealt with that before.

“One date.” He pulls into a parking space a few blocks away and cuts the engine. He turns to me, and his eyes, as black as night, zero in on me. “Don’t think about it. Don’t worry about the past or the future. Just give in to one night.”

“It’s not the one night that might be a problem, Jasper. It’s the morning after.”

“Afraid your poison lipstick will kill me and you’ll have another dead body on your hands?” Shock bleeds through my system, and he chuckles at me. Leaning in, he breathes in my air, then that long tongue of his licks the seam of my lips, tempting fate with the lipstick I wear. “Your recipe is simple, one that would kill a mortal on contact. Baby, I’m no mortal, and I love the bite of pain with my pleasure.”

I exhale quickly, holding myself utterly still as pulses of desire ricochet through me.

“One. Night.” Again, he licks the seam of my lips before groaning and gripping the steering wheel. “No promises.”

“Yes.”

“Good, now let’s go see about this dead guy.” He disappears in the next moment, turning into a shadow and not bothering to wait for me. I pop out of the Jeep and slide down onto the pavement. It’s nearly two thirty in the morning, and the only people awake are those on the night shift. I gently shut the door and step away.

The crunch of pebbles and glass under my feet makes me wince as I step toward the sidewalk and look around for Jasper.

“Ready, kitten?” I hear his voice, but I can’t see him.

I feel him as he steps up behind me and wraps an arm around my waist. All the air spills out of my lungs as I take in long breaths of him. He smells like a cold winter’s night yet feels like a warm summer’s day, and he tugs me back into a hard body that lights every nerve ending I possess on fire.

“If this were any other night…” His words are a caress along my neck, leaving me gasping. “Come on, before I flip this naughty little skirt up and fuck you against the filthy bus bench.”

That’s all the warning I get before my body becomes cold and the breath leaves my lungs for other reasons.

I can still see, hear, and smell, yet I’m a ghost. Holding me tight, Jasper moves from shadow to shadow, dipping in and out and between buildings until we come to the morgue. There’s heavy construction that Jasper takes advantage of as he dips up, down, down, down through a hole in the street. Moving quickly, he sweeps up through the garage and toward an elevator below the building.

I hold my breath as he slips us through the crack in the elevator, and up we go. Apparently, Jasper knew precisely where we needed to be this whole time.

All too soon, I’m stumbling into a sterilized room. My hands fly out and grip a metal table that I’m pretty sure is no table at all. Jasper strolls up to the corner of the room and darkens it. My eyes widen as a red blinking light disappears behind a wall of black smog. Then Jasper moves to the doors while flipping his hoodie down and pulling the shadows away from me. His fingers trace the names until he taps one and yanks it out.

A black bag rolls out on a metal slab. I know what’s in it, but I’m not sure I want to get any closer.

Unbothered, Jasper rips the zipper down, and my fun loving demon hardens all at once.

His face smooths out, free of laugh lines, free of any emotion at all. Warning bells jingle in my head, and I grip the slab even harder. His eyes dart to me, and he presses a finger to his lips in the universal sign to keep my words to myself.

Swallowing the bile in my throat and trying like hell to push the feelings of terror from this morning from my mind, I straighten and take tentative steps over to Jasper.

He digs in his pocket and pulls out the pills, his finger running over them while the other hand presses against the dead guy.

He’s just as I remember him from earlier, his gray skin sunken in. Unlike earlier, I give myself a moment to finally think about everything that has happened. The terror, his body… It’s as though he died so terrified that his skin and body aged rapidly.

Grunting, Jasper steps back and begins to pull out the rest of the bodies on the other side of the room. Assuming he is looking for similar deaths, I take the other side, and we work together in silence. My body trembles, and my fingers shake, but I’ve never backed down from anything in my life, and I’m not about to now.

That’s when it hits me. I have been backing down from this case and from the bar and everything it entails. Shaking the thought away, I yank out a jane and unzip her.

Unlike the guy to my right, this jane isn’t gray or ashen. Her features are sad and broken. She’s older than me, maybe mid-forties, but still beautiful in a broken doll kind of way.

I have no reason to pause except for an odd feeling in my gut that says I need to take a look at her. I hold my magic tight to my chest because I don’t want to touch it if it is this terror magic.

Luckily, Jasper comes up behind me and reaches out to touch her chest. He grunts once and steps back, bringing me with him. She was the last on my side, and I only found her. Jasper pulled out two more bodies, one that looks a lot like the dead guy and another that looks like the jane.

I want to talk because I have questions. A lot of questions.

Who were they?

What happened in their lives that led them to this moment?

“Shh.” Jasper’s voice is low and almost inaudible. “They all died from this drug. I can feel traces of it in their system. I don’t feel the terror you feel, but I feel dark magic.”

Is it any coincidence that the drug dealer ended up at my bar? I think not. Anger rushes through me that he would dare try to send any of my patrons into an early grave just like these people.

“Are they immortals?” I whisper so quietly I am not sure he can hear me.

“Two immortals, two mortals,” he speaks. “All overdosed on this drug.”

That makes this even trickier. We can’t leave the immortals in the city morgue, and we can’t take the mortals with us.

“I’m taking the immortals,” he says. “They can’t be here.”

“Where?”

“The web.” He doesn’t sound happy about it. “Their morgue. We can add it to our date night stop.”

“That’s hardly date night material,” I mutter, earning me a nip to the ear. “Fine. What is this, Jasper?” I ask, feeling the bite of trepidation slither up my spine.

“I don’t know. Only you can feel the terror. I connected the dots here by sensing dark magic.” He pauses. “I don’t like it. There is evil intent here, and I haven’t picked up on this. I’m a hungry boy gobbling up all the naughty immortals, and this is the first time I’m feeling this.” He pauses then as though he just realized something, but he doesn’t share. “Time to go.”

“Where—” The words rush from my lungs until we are back on the street at my Jeep. As we rematerialize, cold washes through my body, and then Jasper tucks me into the driver’s seat. He even goes so far as to buckle me in. “That’s it?”

“Go home. Rest.” He throws what I told Nik earlier in my face. Not only that, but he’s serious. “I’m taking the bodies to the web tonight.”

“Is there anything I should know, Jasper?” I grab his hand as he begins to tap the seat to a beat only he can hear. He’s hiding something from me, I can feel it. With it comes the sense that it’s because he needs to confirm something. He told me demons will tell you what’s on their mind, and I’m hoping he isn’t a lying bastard.

“Yeah. Don’t take drugs from strangers.” He leans in, and just when I think he’s going to kiss me, he licks the shell of my ear. “Wear this skirt tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at sundown.” He squeezes my thigh once, and then he’s gone, nothing more than a shadow in the night.

He leaves me to wonder just what’s going on in my city, or rather what’s been going on since the twins left years ago.

I didn’t want to commit to playing peacekeeper, but it looks like the Fates have other plans for my destiny.

Chapter 12

Pepper

“No, I can’t watch you do this.” Dede’s Kelly green pixie dust spills over the kitchen table, where she pretends to vomit.

“Then don’t.” I pour some tomato juice into my glass, not as much as one should, but it is my day off.

I plan to enjoy it. For me, that means day drinking, maybe some day dicking, and more than likely a little online shopping.

“Pickled vodka, spice witch.” She dramatically drops to the table on her wings, which are askew under her, then throws one arm over her eyes as though she can’t watch me.

“Is it really a Bloody Mary without pickled vodka?” I plop a celery stick into my tall glass and lift it to my lips, only to pause for a moment.

Dede chuckles at me as though she can read my mind and knows exactly why I have yet to sip my drink.

“I’ve been back in this house for days, De, days, and I’ve been interrupted at every turn.” Once more, I bring the glass to my lips and wait.

“Just drink your blood liquor and get day drunk like the rest of the world on a freaking Tuesday.” De rolls over onto her stomach, resting her chin in her hands.

“Why are you watching me?”

“Because now I’m curious if you are going to get interrupted as well.” Her eyes sparkle. “Go on, drink.”

“Pixies,” I mutter, and finally, blessedly, I take a long pull of my drink. Tomato, spice, and that delectable pickled vodka go down the hatch with barely a burn. I smack my lips, my eyes lighting up as I glance at De. “Perfect.”

My phone rings.

De belly laughs. Orange and yellow pixie dust explodes out of her, and even I have to smile at her laughter, because dammit, it’s contagious.

Once more, the bland ringing echoes in the kitchen, and I glance at the caller ID. Sabina’s blue eyes flicker at me with her soft smile on the screen. Sliding to accept the call, I put it on speaker phone and drag her and my drink to the back porch where I sit in the sun and breathe in the crispness of the fall.

“Bean,” I say in greeting.

“Baby bear.” She groans. “What are you doing?” Her voice quiets as though she is whispering, and a slight echo indicates she might be hiding in a bathroom.

“Sipping on the blood of my slain frenemies.”

Her moan is a disturbing thing. “Pickled vodka?”

“You know it.”

“What spices did you use?” I can hear her smacking her lips.

“You okay?” I sip, wondering if she is alright or not. “Is the pack treating you like a spoiled princess?”

“It’s awful, Pepper,” she hisses over the line. “All the pampering and massages and meals.” She growls out her frustration. “Liam won’t stop baking. He’s nesting, Pepper. Nesting!”

“Sounds downright awful.” I don’t even bother to hide an ounce of sarcasm from my voice. Those mates of hers spoil the snot out of her.

“Pepper.” She turns serious. “Pregnancy is no joke, and there are two of them in there.”

“Your belly, you mean.” I bite my lip, almost feeling sorry for her. Alright, I don’t feel sorry for her. She dicked her way into her condition.

“Yes, my belly. What the hell do you think I mean?”

“You’re mean.”

“Because I have two lycan babies swimming in my gut, rearranging everything.” She huffs. “I have to wear a diaper because I pee every two minutes. Oh, welp, there goes my pee.”

I sip my drink and let her spill out her feelings. Despite me teasing her, pregnancy is hard. That much I can acknowledge. For as long as I can remember, though, Sabina always wanted babies. She and her guys will be incredible parents.

She just needs to give birth, and soon.

I shudder, because that isn’t a role I ever see myself playing. “Did the doctor determine if it’s just two?”

“Bite your tongue,” she exclaims. “Kendall is only having twins.”

“What does that have to do with you?”

“I don’t want more than two, Pepper.”

“You’re spiraling.”

“Wouldn’t you? Everything hurts, from my eyelashes to my toes.” I hear something ripping open, and I bet anything it’s a package of fruit snacks she smuggled in from the outside world. “I can see their little feet move across my abdomen.”

“Alien-like?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I think it’s cute, and sometimes I think they will rip through me all Twilight like.”

“That is disturbing.” I shudder just thinking about that. I set my drink aside because I can only think about what a bloodbath that would be.

“Let me live vicariously through you,” she says just before a beep sounds on the line. “Group call!”

I flip my phone to video and wait for the others to pop onto the screen.

The phone splits into three, and just like that, we are all there. Sabina takes up the bottom half lying on her side, her stomach resting on the cool tiled floor of her pantry. She has a jerky stick in one hand and cheese in the other while fruit snacks spread out around her. Ever so slowly, she begins to lick a fruit snack and then uses her tongue to bring it to her mouth.

I can see why she is miserable. Her stomach protrudes, causing her shirt to ride up over her popped-out belly button, and her skin is almost translucent.

“That looks painful.” Nessa blinks at the screen, coming in closer so her golden eyes take up the whole camera. “Soon.” She nods before sitting back.

“Thank the gods.” Sabina rips into a cheese stick.

Ash just takes all of this in with an odd expression on her round face, ever the serious one of our group. “How is everyone?”

“I was just about to live vicariously through Pepper,” Sabina mutters, focusing the screen on her face.

“I’m not sure what you think I’m doing over here, but it is my day off, so I’m drinking a Bloody Mary” —that lost its appeal— “and I’m enjoying the fall breeze.”

“Your birthday is coming up!” Ash exclaims and pushes her glasses up her nose. “Do you have plans?”

“I forgot it was my birthday.” Liar, liar. I pick at my sweatpants. “Nothing good ever comes from my birthday.”

“You just need to change your perspective,” Nessa argues. “Go put your feet in the earth. Ground yourself.”

“Oh no,” Ash interrupts. “You’ve gone back to being a hippie, haven’t you? Why?”

Nessa blinks at the screen, her eyes slitting for a moment before they return to normal. “I’m learning the delicate art of calm.”

“Just have sex,” Sabina mutters. “Fuck the anger right out of ya.”

“My dragon loves blood.” Nessa smiles wistfully. “I admit it is tasty.”

“Blood for the dragon on her next birthday. Got it.” I smirk.

“Have you moved away from sending dildos?” Ash smirks, but she never once complained about any toys I sent her.

“I had to hide the clit shredder in a pocket dimension.” Sabina glares at me.

“It’s a bullet, Bean,” I correct. “You’re lucky I didn’t send you the one that suction cups to your clit.”

“One of these days, Pepper…” Ash begins, but there is no real threat in her voice, and a smile stretches across her face.

“Yes?” I urge her to continue as I reach for my drink, no longer feeling grossed out by the color, and sip.

“How’s the bar?” Sabina prompts. She probably wants to know if any battles have ensued. I won’t dive into those, because, knowing her, she’d drive her pregnant butt down here and try to help me out, which isn’t safe for her.

Especially knowing that terror is now a drug.

The line buzzes with an incoming call. John. “Dammit. Hang on, girls.” Ignoring their mutters, I put them on hold and answer his call. There’s no video here, just voice, as I answer. “Hey you.”

“Sparrow,” he says, and his voice is like a balm to my soul, or maybe it’s my drink. I shouldn’t get attached to my johns. There is just something about his voice that draws me in. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been—” I pause, because I can’t tell him about my life, that was our one rule. He and I only deal in sexy talk. “Otherwise occupied.” There, that is an answer. Kind of.

“Don’t tell me that I’ve been replaced already,” he teases before saying, “No, that can’t be it.” He hums over the line. “Are you free, Sparrow?”

A sigh gusts between my lips because I want a moment with him more than anything. It would help me to release a little stress. “No.”

“What a shame,” he replies with more disappointment than I’ve heard in a while.

“I’m off in a couple days,” I tell him hurriedly. “You can have me all to yourself Wednesday at say, eight?”

“Until then, Sparrow.” He hangs up, the line going right back to the girls who are all staring at me expectantly.

It takes me a full minute to remember what we were talking about before my john called. “Quiet. The bar is quiet,” I lie, earning me a snort from Nessa. To give Sabina a purpose, I ask her something only she can answer. “I do have a question for you, Bean.”

Her eyes light up, and she sits up. “What? Do you need me? For what? Tell me,” she demands.

“Your dad’s armory,” I begin. “My spear is in there. I need to get it, but I also recall you saying there is a book in there of all immortals. I’d like to look through it.”

Her face falls. “Oh.”

“What?” My brow wrinkles. “What did I do?”

Nessa just chuckles. “The armory? We all have one.”

“What?” My head jerks to the side, and my drink damn near spills out of my cup.

“Yeah, I only just learned that myself.” Ash’s face sours just a fraction at that. “Uncle Allen set it up so that all his girls would have access to an armory magically designed for them.”

Sabina nods. “It’ll show up when you least expect it to.” She slumps forward onto her belly and leans her chin in her palm.

“That’s depressing.” I grab my celery stick and chomp into it thoughtfully. “You’ve all accessed this armory?”

“Well, I have,” Sabina says.

“Me as well. Uncle Allen set it up not just as a nest, but as a treasure trove.” The dragoness brightens, her eyes glowing gold. “It’s the perfect place,” she says dreamily.

“I haven’t,” Ash grumbles. Out of all of us, Ash could use the armory the most. She alone is an asset to the military, but she also has a soft heart. I’m convinced they are using her and have her backed into a corner, but she will never admit it.

“How did you find it?” I ask Nessa.

“It was just there one day.” She shrugs as though it’s meaningless, then she lets out a loud huff as her cheeks puff out before a breath explodes out of her. “Elliot found the armory for me.”

I tilt my head to the side. Elliot is her pet dragon.

Yes, a dragon has a pet dragon. I don’t know how it works, only that it does. Vanessa knows the answers to that.

“De!” I shout and sip my drink before throwing the celery back into the glass.

I hear her wings before I see her. Her little grunt of annoyance is thankfully missed by my cousins, and she settles on a chair across from me out of their view, wearing a silky slip dress in teal.

“Are there any suspicious doors in the house?” I ask her.

She snorts, and black glitter flutters from her wings. “All doors are suspicious if you ask me.” She crosses her arms and glares at me. “Why even have a door at all? To keep pixies out, that’s why. Blasphemous.”

“Is she saying anything useful?” Ash asks, intrigued as always by my little friend.

“No, she is complaining about the purpose of doors.” I throw back the last of my Bloody Mary. “I’ll have to check the doors later.”

“So,” Sabina says in a conspiratorial tone, and I know whatever she is about to say is going to be personal. “I hear that you may or may not have called the twins.”

“Couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” I almost deflect and ask her about the care package I sent, but that would have been the first thing she mentioned. It should be arriving any day now.

“You did what? Is that why I have a missed call from you?” Ash gasps, her face going eerily still. “No, Pepper. You didn’t.”

“When the hell was that?” Nessa gives me the stink eye, only hers are with creepy-slitted pupils.

This is getting out of hand and fast.

“Fucking hell.” I need another drink. “In my defense, I tried to call you three first.” I glance at my glass with longing, but I don’t get up to make myself another despite wanting to be numb from this conversation. Also, I have that date with Jasper in a few hours, and I have no idea what that entails.

“Oh, Pepper,” Ash says with far too much empathy. She presses her hands to her cheeks, and I don’t know why that makes my eyes burn, but it does.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. I almost deflect and tell them about Jasper, but I don’t, which is unusual for me. “I went to the apartment and wanted to see if the door was locked.” Despite hashing this out with Nikko, I quickly reiterate the events of opening night. How I went to the apartment, how I accidentally called Donovan, and then how I realized my magic was setting off their alarms.

“Your booty called them.” Nessa snorts.

“It was accidental.” Sabina slices a hand through the air. “You really heard another woman?” There’s concern in her voice, as though she’s waiting for me to break.

I never told them that I stole the pain of their rejection with a simple spell, which I drank down like water. Anyway, their reaction is warranted.

I just don’t need it.

“I heard a woman. To make matters worse, I was on a case with Nik, and he called the twins when I passed out.”

“What?” It’s like they rehearsed to say that at the same time.

I hold up a hand before I explain. “I touched magic I shouldn’t have. Anyway, Nik called the twins because he didn’t know what to do with my seizing ass. He let it slip that my magic touched another, and—”

“Whoa.” Nessa’s eyes widen, and she chuckles at me. “They are so going to kick your ass when they come home.”

A battleship detonates in my stomach. “No, they won’t.” I go back to picking at my sweats. “They aren’t coming home, they are home.”

“You are an idiot.” This comes from Sabina. “They were madly in love with you and left because they were betrothed to another wizard.”

I wince.

“No.” Ash taps her chin with one long delicate finger. “I think it was a witch.”

“Aren’t they mages?” Nessa’s brows furrow as she pronounces the word with a long vowel sound. “Mages.” She nods to herself, pronouncing it a little differently, like magic without the last letter.

They are all wrong.

“Fae.” Ash snaps her fingers. “They have to be fae.”

“No,” I say, ending this conversation. “None of the above.”

“Wait.” Nessa moves in close, her dragon eyes once again taking up all of the screen. I don’t know why she does that, because it isn’t like it will help her see us better. “They aren’t any of those things?”

“No.” I hold up a hand. “And before you pry, it isn’t my story to tell.”

Sabina snorts and pouts. “I don’t like that.” Her eyes squint at me, and I can see the hormone monster about to emerge. “You are gatekeeping.”

“That isn’t what gatekeeping means, Bean.” I groan. “I’m not keeping secrets from you.”

Across from me, Dede snickers, and I almost toss my celery at her head.

“Alright, I’ll let it slide,” Sabina says, but her tone isn’t convincing. “So, rundown of Pepper’s mess.”

“Oh, I’ve got it!” Nessa bounces around.

Ash cuts her off. “Bar, twins, strange magic, and even Nikko.”

Nope, not diving into Nikko right now. “I have to go get ready.” I roll my body up, feeling light on my feet thanks to the vodka.

“For?” Sabina asks, ready to fight to the death for my answer. I don’t even have to divulge my secrets before the pantry door opens and Liam, Sabina’s mate, sets my care package on the floor before her. He sits down on the floor with her with a thankful smile on his face directed at me. “What?” She snatches the basket as big as her tummy toward her and plucks out the card. “Pepper.” She looks at me with wide eyes, tears blurring her irises.

“It’s a push present.” I feel awkward because I can feel everyone’s eyes on me.

“Those are from—”

I cut her off. “Me,” I say, though a push present is something the guys should be giving her, and I know they will. It might be sparkly things, pretties she will absolutely cherish forever, but this basket is for the day her gremlins crawl out of her coochie.

“There are meds, ice packs, big giant pads that look like a diaper, a heating pad, some mesh panties, and chocolate from that little German shop you love,” I tell her.

Giant, blubbering sobs break free of her, and Liam reaches down to grab the phone.

“Thank you, Pepper,” he says, and then the phone cuts out.

“You broke her.” Ash shakes her head, though a rueful smile tips her lips.

Nessa grunts. “I really thought you would send her a clit stimulator.”

“I thought about it, and I’ll send a package a couple of months after the babies arrive.” I pause. “This made more sense.”

“Look at you, baby bear,” Ash says with something akin to pride in her voice. “Growing up.”

“Well, it had to happen eventually.” I can’t resist the smile that stretches across my face.

“See you in a few days,” Nessa says, cutting me off.

My smile falls. “What?”

“Love you, bye, bye.” She draws that last one out.

Ash doesn’t even bother. She just hangs up, leaving me to stare at a blank phone screen.

“What the fuck just happened?” I drop the phone into my lap.

Dede buzzes up and around me. “You just got played.” She flits away, cackling.

I make a mental note to shut and lock all the doors in the house. The only problem is the house will let them in despite what I want—a lesson I’m quickly learning.

Chapter 13

Pepper

“What’s the plan?” Dede buzzes in my face before shooting over to my bookshelf and perching there like a pixie on a shelf.

“I didn’t have a plan.” I shoot her a glance while tying a bow in my hair and fiddling with my outfit.

There’s no guide on what to wear for a date with a demon. I looked, but there was nothing in any of the well-known magazines, so I opted for tight black overalls and a blood-red, long-sleeved boatneck shirt. The debate now is comfortable versus sexy shoes.

On one hand, I’ve got heels. On the other, my favorite shit kickers. I also found these ankle boots with a slight heel all the way back in my closet that may or may not belong to Ash. It’s a decent combination of the two and the ones I finally pull on.

The issue is I have no idea what plans Jasper has made. If I’ve gathered anything from the odd demon, it’s that his idea of a date and modern society’s idea of a date are two very different concepts.

“You have to have a plan. What if he’s a serial killer?” Red pixie dust spills from her. “Emergency call me if you find yourself stabbed and he’s using your blood as a sacrifice to summon a hell beast.”

Clearing my throat, I snatch up my purse. “I’m fairly certain that he is, in fact, a serial killer.”

“How am I supposed to just let you go off with a serial killer?” She stands up and stalks over to her little box on the shelf where she hides all her weapons. “That’s it. I’m coming along.”

“I don’t think he wants to kill me and keep my skin as a trophy.”

She pauses and turns toward me very slowly. “You put it in my head, and now it will live there for eternity rent free!” Her iridescent wings buzz rapidly, creating a sound that rivals that of a beehive.

“It’s your day off. Enjoy the day.” I wink at her. “Weren’t you talking about finding some pixie dick?”

“Ugh.” She leaves the lid open and scrambles inside, tossing out little swords every now and again. “It’s hard to find a male pixie in the city.”

“They exist.”

A moment later, she spills out of the box armed to the teeth and looks like a vicious little warrior. “I don’t have an app to find singles in my area like you do.” She huffs.

I snort and turn around, pulling out my lipstick and decorating my lips with the blood-red poison. Am I asking Jasper to defy my attempt at poisoning him? Hell yes I am.

“You have a phone.”

“Immortal Tap is the worst app that was ever created,” she grumbles, and I see her in the mirror, pacing the length of the bookshelf. “As much as I would love to find a mate, it isn’t my priority.”

“Why?” I side-eye the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room and watch the minute hand tick over. Seven in the evening.

“Unlike all you fancy immortals who enjoy mating for the physical benefits” —she wags her eyebrows at that— “I don’t need a mate for a power boost. A mate would just drag my wings down.” I swear she mutters something about pirates and flying boys.

I begin to tick off my fingers. “First of all, not everyone gets the benefits of a power exchange when they mate.”

“Sabina did.” She sniffs, proving me wrong. “She is more growly.”

I roll my eyes at that. “Moving on. And second, I don’t want a mate.” Now I cross my arms and frown when I realize that isn’t a lie. “Huh, I don’t.”

“Better take another dose of that potion you concocted then.” De buzzes up to my shoulder, where she plops. Her wings shift my hair, sticking out of my headband bow. “It’ll wear off eventually, and you will have a problem.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, even though a part of me worries that she just might be right. I took the elixir to keep me from falling in love, or rather an anti-love potion, to keep any potential mate away.

I don’t need that kind of heartbreak in my life.

Only one problem. I messed with fate, and those bitches do not take kindly to that. It’s a miracle I’ve made it almost two years without them noticing. According to the rumor mill, they are psychotic bitches, and the backlash might kill me.

Too late now.

If I don’t make another anti-love potion, I’ll face fate’s wrath. Choices, choices. Luckily, I do not have to worry about it right now because the front door just opened.

As the breezeway door opens, I turn to a smiling Jasper, his eyes tracing over me from my toes to the curls on top of my head. “Kitten,” he purrs as he walks in and leaves the door open. “You look like a buffet.”

On my shoulder, Dede begins to snicker. “A buffet.”

“Now, little pixie…” Jasper stalks over, winking at me before focusing on Dede. “If you have never had a male dine on you like you are the finest meal, then you have yet to live.”

I hear her sniff in that little pretentious way of hers. “I don’t need a male.”

I roll my eyes. “Not this again.”

“Luckily for you…” He whistles, and that’s when rapid buzzing fills my living room. “Guys, meet Dede.”

I slap a hand over my mouth as Dede takes off toward the kitchen with a squeak. At least several male pixies chase after her, all chittering away, though I don’t catch their words before they fly by me far too fast. I couldn’t even count how many there were.

Jasper grips my waist, spinning me around and tugging me close. “That should keep her busy.”

“You can speak their language.” I lean my head back, but Jasper just follows me with a determined look in his eyes.

“I’m older than dirt. Of course I can speak their language.” He nips my neck before pulling away. “Red is my favorite color.” His eyes dip to my lips, and a crooked smirk curves across his face as though he just cannot wait to lick the lipstick from my mouth.

“What’s on the schedule, Jasper?” I slide out of his arms, step toward the door, past the breezeway, and into the chilly evening air.

“Your ass looks bitable in those pants.” He moans softly. “Though I told you to wear a skirt.”

That is exactly why I wore pants. “I know.” I pause on the porch, taking in my lack of Halloween décor, and a pang of nostalgia slips through my mood, dampening it slightly.

“I don’t like that face.” Jasper steps into my line of sight, lowering to eye level. “Fix it.”

“I have no Halloween decorations.” Usually, the porch is filled with spiderwebs and giant spiders, and the tree in the front yard is full of orange lights and giant pumpkins that look like Christmas balls but aren’t.

Jasper stands and looks at the porch, a frown on his handsome face. “You have three options for our evening.”

“Three?”

He nods, then repeats, “Three.”

“Alright, what are they?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“Then how am I supposed to choose?” I frown at him. Behind me, I hear muted pixie laughter and a buzzing of wings.

“One is fixing the lack of decoration.” He nods to himself as though he is mentally calculating what he needs to prepare the porch for Halloween.

“What are the other two?” I nibble on my lip because as much as I want to decorate the porch, I also want to know just what Jasper planned for the night.

What does a demon plan for a date with a witch? My mind has been spinning on the possibilities all night.

“Ah-ah. Can’t tell you.” He snaps his fingers. “You can pick one or two.”

“No hints?”

He frowns at that before relenting. “One involves a princess, and the other involves a…” He scowls at himself as he tries to think of the words. “Villain.”

“That’s my choice, a princess or a villain?” Wait. “Tricky demon.”

“That’s not an answer,” he teases me and tugs me close. Our bodies press against each other, sending little zings of excitement through me. His sent wraps around me, crisp and clean like a summer storm just before lightning strikes.

“Well, I want to decorate the porch, but…”

“Done. We will decorate later.” He tugs me off the porch and drags me to the sidewalk. “One or two? Princess or villain?”

Princess refers to Nikko, who is on the night shift for the next two weeks. How do I know? I’m a stalker, that’s how. I also copied his schedule when I looked through his phone the other day.

I don’t feel bad about it either.

“Villain.” I might regret that. Might.

“I hoped you’d say that, because we can’t save the princess without acting a little naughty first.” Tonight, Jasper has his own car, and he hits the unlock button on the fob in his hand.

“Jasper.” I pause at the red and black sports car. “I’m not sure, but I don’t recall you having a car.” On the wheel, the word Bugatti sends a shiver of panic through me.

“In you go.” He even opens the door for me while ignoring my thought process and protests.

If he stole this car…

I slide into the butter leather seats, and Jasper shuts the door for me. The hood thuds as he glides across and then strolls to the driver’s side, sliding in as though the car is an extension of him.

“Jasper.”

“Yes, baby?” Dammit, it isn’t fair when his voice sounds like pure whiskey and sin.

I love whiskey.

“Whose car is this?” I ask very slowly as he starts the engine and pulls out onto the street as though he is a race car driver.

“I had to come prepared.”

“For what?” Dammit, I’m smiling. I should not be supporting his moral flaws.

“Option one of course.” He drives as though he hasn’t a care in the world, or rather as though there aren’t any other cars on the road. There are.

“Saving the princess.” I highly doubt Nikko needs saving, especially considering he is working tonight. Most detectives get to work day shifts, but considering his department revolves around immortal cases, most of them are nocturnal. Well… night shift.

“So you stole a car.”

“Borrowed.”

“It’s still stealing, Jasper.” Even if the seats are comfortable. “Who is even rich enough to have one of these?” I hold up a hand. “Know what? I don’t want to know.”

“I didn’t think you would.” He side-eyes me.

“How did you make out last night?”

“The bodies are secure.” His mood sours. “I did have to adjust the reports on the others so that the mortal medical examiner wouldn’t think much of it.”

“How…” I stop myself right there. Do I want to know what he did?

“They accidentally went to the incinerator first thing this morning.”

“Jasper,” I scold. Nikko is going to be furious. “You can’t do that.”

“Had to, babe.” He begins to drum his fingers on the steering wheel as he casually drives through the city. “Couldn’t leave the mortals to take their blood or what was left of it, especially when you said it was terror.” His voice jumps a little when he says that.

My nerves flare to life. I spent all day somehow not thinking about the way the dead guy felt until now.

“Tell me a random fact about you,” I say as he heads farther east toward the Delaware.

“I love kittens.”

“Kittens.” My smile feels real, too real, as though until this moment, I hadn’t smiled a genuine smile in a long, long time. “Is that why you call me kitten or kitty?”

“Maybe,” he drawls. “They remind me…” He stops, shaking his head.

Do I pry? Hell yes I do. “Remind you of what?”

“Do you know how daemons came to be?” he asks instead, surprising me. “Or demons, as mortals call us. We aren’t good, and we aren’t evil. We just are. For the sake of conversation, I’ll refer to myself as a demon.”

Jasper isn’t at all what I pegged him as. Not only is he forthcoming, but he is also honest. He is real. Sure, he’s a little crazy, but he isn’t afraid to just talk. I hate to compare him to the twins, but I can’t help it.

Where the twins withheld so much from me, Jasper easily gives it away. Even Nikko always held himself back from me. I don’t have to worry about that with Jasper, and dammit it if that isn’t endearing. I’m also pretty sure it’s giving me a false sense of security with him. He is a demon, after all.

“I think Nik mentioned it briefly.” I root around in my memories, trying to pull the right one. “You were once a warrior?”

“Something like that.” He glances at me, his voice becoming soft. “I was a warrior. My life consisted of battles, blood, and murder. I fought for what I believed in, and sometimes, when my emperor demanded I fight for a selfish reason, I denied him.”

“Your emperor?” I force my jaw to stay closed.

“Right, right, this is about how demons are made.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel as he explains. “According to what I was taught, demons are the spirits of mortal heroes or warriors, those who walked the line of good and evil. They were mortals who were unafraid to shed blood for the greater good.”

“What part of that don’t you believe?”

“Who says I don’t believe all of it?” He snorts.

“You don’t believe you were that mortal?” I say, because out of all that, I think that is the hardest to accept—Jasper once being mortal.

Again, he side-eyes me. “I know the legends. That’s all.” Finally, he continues. “Kittens remind me of gentle mortals. I like to pet them.”

“The mortals or the kittens?”

He carries on as though I didn’t speak at all. “They are innocent.”

I kind of get it. Even to immortal standards, mortals are the innocents in our world of blood and guts, except that isn’t always true. “I’ve seen men do atrocious things.” I lean my head on the headrest, my eyes trailing to the window where I watch the city pass me. “I’ve seen them hurt the innocent, those they love, and I’ve seen them die only to wake in the Underworld without much repercussion for their earthly actions.” It’s the only thing that drives me crazy regarding Vanessa’s domain. One of her mates just so happens to be the legendary Hades, and those who do vial things here on Earth don’t live out their eternity in a pit of burning fire, though Vanessa will eat them if they are not worth saving.

The car swells with silence, the mood turning somber until Jasper pulls up to a warehouse. Out here, it’s quiet, desolate. The warehouse overlooks the river, where icy water laps at rocks and buildings rise along the Jersey shore, leaving lights to creep over the black water.

“Here we are.” He shuts off the car and turns to me, his hand reaching out to grip my knee. It’s a comforting gesture, one I don’t anticipate from him. “Mortals are all born innocent, like kittens. It is the influence of the depraved that twists them into creatures incapable of love.” He squeezes my knee once and climbs out of the car, leaving me to gape at him in silence.

He walks to my door and lets me out, but he doesn’t stop there. He takes my elbow in his and guides me toward the warehouse.

“Do I want to know?” I glare at the dilapidated building with trepidation.

In answer, Jasper gives me a sly smile before directing me toward a door that’s oddly more secure than my own house. Granted, my house is a little more… alive.

Not only does he use his thumb, but he also uses a pin and then an eye scanner. It seems like Jasper has no problem using modern tech for immortal problems.

“After you.” He guides me in.

Nothing but darkness greets me, then all at once, lights flare to life when Jasper flicks them on with an audible snap, snap, snap.

For a moment, they blind me until my vision finally focuses, and what I see has me stepping back into Jasper’s hard body. He doesn’t let me get away. Oh no, he wraps his arms around me and moves his lips to my ear.

“You want to know just what kind of demon I am? You want to know why the web calls me their shadow?” His grip tightens on my hip, squeezing once, twice. “Then, baby, welcome to my playhouse.”

I don’t move, and Jasper doesn’t push. He lets me gaze at the scene before me and soak it in. Dizziness washes through me, and my mouth opens and closes. The warehouse doesn’t look as run down from the inside. It looks like a wizard’s workshop with a large salt circle on the floor and work benches scattered throughout the place. Tomes sit high on two of the four benches while the other two hold body bags.

Body. Bags.

It’s the passed out mortal in the center of the room, who dangles from chains, that has me balking. The rusted iron wraps around his wrists and then twists up to the ceiling, where a simple ring hangs from the rafters. To the far left, a pulley system allows Jasper to control the chains. This is not a date. There’s no way.

All the air leaves my lungs when the man twitches and blood pours anew out of a wound, splattering on the floor. Ever so slowly, it flows down, down, into the drain set just below him.

Bile rises in my throat, and I press my palm to my mouth. “Jasper.”

“Date night, baby.”

“This is… This is not a date.”

“Blood play is always a date.”

“I can’t do this,” I whisper as my eyes remain glued to the man’s chest, his breathing causing it to rise and fall. “I can’t be here. Are those the bodies from the morgue? You said you took them to the web.”

“I said they were secure.”

“You put that guy in your trunk.”

“Kitten.” Jasper licks the shell of my ear. “This man was watching you on opening night.” He pauses as horror floods through my entire body. “They were there to observe and report. Plus, he had a little gold packet in his pocket.”

“Half the immortals in Philadelphia were there to observe and report. Even my waitress was there to do just that.” My voice squeaks a little.

“Look at the table to my left.” He adjusts me just enough until my eyes land on the table where several gold packets sit. Even from here, I can feel the drugs inside pulsing with terror.

My body shudders from head to toe. “Jasper.” My heart pounds in my chest so hard I know he can feel just how unsure I am in this moment.

“I took those pills to several witches in the web, and not one could sense their purpose.” He spins me around to face him. His hands clasp around my wrists, and his eyes glimmer with malice. “So, tell me, baby witch, just who are you?”

My mouth parts as warnings begin to detonate in my head. “This isn’t a date,” I say once more. Dede will be busy for a while. The bar is closed until Thursday. That’s two whole days. Nik is working, and the girls and I already had our check-in today.

There is literally no one who will realize I’m missing. Jasper didn’t just play me. He observed me, stalked me, and learned my patterns and my ticks all in a matter of days.

I don’t know whether to be angry or impressed.

His lips twitch. “Depends on your definition of a date.”

I said that very thing to myself only hours earlier. “I don’t know! Princess, I choose princess!”

“Oh, baby witch, he can’t help you now. In fact, you are his knight in shining armor.” His smile is cruel and full of white glimmering teeth. “I want nothing more than to cut you open and see just what magic you hold inside.”

My mouth dries. “You can’t mean that.”

He ignores me, and with his free hand, he grabs the necklace at my throat, slowly pulling it out to reveal the gold medallion I inherited from my father. “Hecate,” he whispers. “Your goddess can’t help you here.”

I’m about to tell him she is not my goddess, but I don’t. I clamp my mouth shut as my body begins to tremble.

“I prefer the scent of lust with my fear.” He spins me around, still holding my hands behind my back. “Are you ready, baby witch?”

“For what?” Saliva gurgles in my throat.

“I can’t cut you open to see how you tick, so…” He leans close to my neck, making my body feel confused. He turns me on just as much as he terrifies me. “I want to see just what you are made of.”

My heart skips a beat once more.

“Survive the night, and I’ll call this our first date.”

Chapter 14

Pepper

“Are you scared, kitten?” Jasper’s grip on my hands tightens while his other hand snakes its way around my body to grasp my neck.

I’m immobile and staring at a scene that jumped right out of a horror novel, one I walked into. Am I scared?

My mouth goes dry, and my tongue darts to lick my lips. The taste of belladonna coats my taste buds. “Yes,” I finally admit after struggling to find words that fail me.

I’ve spent a long time pushing the boundaries of my physical body. I’ve jumped headfirst out of airplanes and into deep waters. I’ve done so many things in the last two years, and not one of them involved torturing another of the gods’ creations.

I might have threatened it, but I’ve never done it, and I’m not sure that is something I even want to think about doing. Yet here we are, here I am, staring at the handiwork that is all Jasper.

I’m a foolish witch.

With my hands bound, I’m worthless.

“Good,” he whispers a moment before he leads me to a chair he must have put out just for me. Tomorrow, I’m sure I’ll find fingerprint bruises along my wrists.

“That’s first-degree murder, Jasper.” My voice trembles a bit as I point that out to him.

His chuckle is a deranged vibration against my back. “That would imply I intend to murder you.”

“You did say you want to cut me open to see how I tick.” I rest in the chair, uncomfortable as Jasper pulls my hands behind my back and secures them to the chair with freaking zip ties.

“I also said I wouldn’t.” Once my arms are secure, he kneels before me, fastening my ankles to the legs of the chair. “You didn’t fight me,” he purrs.

I grind my teeth because I didn’t. I should have, oh I damn well know I freaking should have. The problem is I didn’t, and that is more terrifying than any action up to this moment, because deep inside me, in that twisted, screwed up part of me, I’m curious. So curious.

He hasn’t hurt me, he’s treated me as though I’m precious, yet he’s pulled off the kid gloves. He’s crazy. Of that I am utterly positive.

Not to mention when he touches me, parts of my body light up and flare to life. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a long ass time.

I’m broken. That’s all there is to it.

“What next?” I ask instead of pondering why I haven’t fought him. That’s a psych dive I am not ready for.

“Are you so sure you are ready for that, kitten?” His hands glide up my calves, over my knees, then to my thighs, where he sinks his fingertips into the flesh. “Next,” he mocks.

“Yes,” I lie.

He leans close to me, burying his nose in my neck as he inhales deeply. “When you lie, you emit a poisonous odor.” His tongue licks along the artery pulsing far too fast in my neck. “Like regret and unrequited love with just a dash of bitterness.”

“That’s rude.”

He chuckles against my neck, then he drags his teeth along my collarbone, where he nips hard enough to break the skin. His tongue glides over the droplets I feel beading there before moving ever so slowly back up to my neck. “What did you do to smell like poison, kitten?”

For a moment, my stomach boils with unease, and I jerk my head toward him. If this were any other day, in any different setting, having Jasper between my legs while I’m tied up and at his mercy would feel erotic. As it is, I have no idea what he plans to do, and he just tasted my blood, knowing that I took something I probably shouldn’t have.

“Nothing.”

“Lie.” He bites me again, and once more, he draws blood. “I could do this all night, Pepper, but not tonight.” Again, he nips me. “We will get to that though, I promise, because I cannot wait to punish you.”

I breathe a sigh of relief when he steps away from me, but not before adrenaline floods through me at his words. Behind him, the mortal hangs from his chains, twitching every so often. With the blood loss, he’s almost dead to the world. It’s a macabre portrait that burns into my mind.

“All those years ago, you smelled faintly of hidden magic and mortality.” His lips pout as he rises before me, standing cocky and confident. His head tilts just so, and when he looks down at me, he appears larger than he is.

“What do I smell like now?”

“Poison.” He smiles as though he is impressed with whatever he thinks I did. “Do you know anything about witches, Pepper?”

Another lie sits on my lips, yet what draws from me is a shrug.

“Don’t make this difficult, Pepper.” He almost groans before walking over to a sterile silver cart.

A shiver runs through my body as his thumb brushes across his lips. I crane my neck as he steps out of view, then I hear the rattle of a drawer and clanking.

Jasper steps back, humming under his breath. “Last chance to tell me the truth, Pepper.”

“I know few things about witches,” I finally admit, my eyes glued to the syringe he now has in his hand.

He tests the syringe, and clear liquid squirts from the top. “If I inject you with this, will it affect your rating of this date?”

“Depends on what’s in the syringe, Jasper.” My heart begins to thud in my chest, throwing my body into overdrive.

“Why do you smell of poison and regret?” he counters.

The grinding of my teeth echoes between us. “Don’t steal my secrets, Jasper.”

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He kneels before me, his words calm but his body vibrating with tension.

“You didn’t earn my secrets.”

“You, my mortal witch, have a silver tongue coated in lies.” His dark eyes never once look away from my own. It’s unsettling and disturbing just how much he can see. “From the beginning, what do you know of witches?”

His words sink in, settling inside me like a vacant pit of despair. My mouth parts, and my body jerks with involuntary spasms.

Mortal.

“Oh, you didn’t know, did you?” He tsks under his breath. His hands rest on either side of my thighs, and I’m not sure I have it in me to argue with him. “Underneath all that poison you dosed yourself with, and far beneath the well of magic you have yet to tap, is a scared little mortal girl.”

“I’m not…” Except I can’t say. “I thought…”

“You know nothing about your species,” he spits at me. “Nothing.”

A pinch presses against the skin of my thigh—the syringe. My eyes flick down. “Don’t.” It’s too late. I can’t change the moment. All I can do is embrace it and live through it.

I don’t know what Jasper has planned. I thought there was something there, something that could be more, but I cut myself off from ever knowing.

He leans back on his heels. “I didn’t want to do that.” The syringe clatters to the ground. “Pepper, this is my city.”

“It’s mine!” I yell at him, my throat burning as tears threaten to fall from my eyes. I hold them back because, dammit, I’m mad at him, and he deserves even more than my anger.

“What?” he sneers. “You think a peacekeeper with a self-imposed time limit grants you the key to the city?” He leans in. “Wrong.”

“For now.”

“Nothing.” He stands up, slicing his hand through the air, then he steps away. “That will take a few minutes to kick in.”

“What…” My throat feels impossibly dry.

“Is it?”

“Yes,” I croak.

“Just a little concoction.” He smirks and turns away from me, stalking toward the man hanging from the chains. “Now him?” He begins to twirl the dying man. “He knew better than you, or maybe someone else did. Placing a geas on his truth.”

“A geas?”

“You are a terrible witch.” He snorts before turning to me. “I’m going to change that for you, Pepper.”

“How?”

“I promised to destroy you, to ruin you. Only then can I build you back up.” His crooked smirk is cruel, and yet I hate that I still find it intriguing.

“I thought you meant in a fun way, Jasper!” I yell at him.

His eyes glimmer, and his head tilts back a fraction. “Oh, I plan to fuck you and ruin you for any other immortal or mortal who dares to touch your flesh,” he snarls. “I plan to do that too, sweet little witch.”

That’s not going to happen now that he injected me with some bullshit. I don’t say that though. I just glare at him with all the defiance and stubbornness I hold inside of me.

“What’s your name?” He crosses his arms and stares at me impassively.

That’s when I begin to feel the swell of whatever he injected me with. At first, it’s just a cold sensation that sweeps from the injection site, but then it’s like ghostly fingers that begin to creep over me until a hand grips my throat.

The longer I hold back, the tighter it grips.

“Don’t fight it, kitten.”

“Psycho!” I gasp.

“Not the answer.”

“Pepper Elspeth O’Malley.” The words rip from my throat, and as I tell them, the pressure upon my throat dissipates.

“Elspeth.” For a moment, Jasper appears stunned before he chuckles to himself. “Interesting choice.” Clapping his hands, he kneels before me again, touching me gently. It would seem as though he reveres me, though that would be in any other time and any other place than this one.

“What do you know about witches?” he asks me.

This time I don’t fight it and repeat my answer from earlier. “Nothing much.”

“Who is your patron?” He tilts his head with that inquiry.

This time, the poison he injected me with doesn’t clench my throat as though it’s trying to pull the words from my tongue. It swirls inside me like it’s just as unsure of the answer as I am. “I don’t have one.”

“No. That’s impossible.” He leans back, appearing bewildered. “Who taught you magic, Pepper Elspeth?”

“I did.”

“No crone passed you all the knowledge of a coven?” There’s worry in his voice that wasn’t there before, something that alarms me, but if I’m being honest, this whole date is one big red flag.

I must be color blind, because any other witch would have seen this coming from a mile away.

“Crone?” I question, though deep down, I understand his questioning in a traditional sense, in the sense of bedtime stories. Ones that felt like nothing more than tales.

A maiden, a mother, and a crone—Hecate, or a triple goddess, the mother of all witchcraft.

“You’ve just been out here in the world practicing magic without an ounce of control or knowledge?” There’s anger in his voice, anger I don’t understand.

“I have contr—” The grip on my neck tightens.

“Answer the question.” His voice is stern as he commands me to answer.

“No.” I gasp as the hand tightens and black dots dance in my vision. Lie. “Yes.” It doesn’t matter how much I believe the lie, it doesn’t make it true.

Jasper stands and steps away, leaving me sitting in the chair staring at a tortured man hanging from the rafters while two others lie in body bags. My heart thumps painfully against my chest, the muscle squeezing me until I gulp for air and tears burn my vision. I’ve never been ripped down like this, and something tells me Jasper is only getting started.

“Do you have any idea what you could have done?” Jasper steps back into my line of sight, his face red with anger. “You have no training, no patron, and no one to teach you right from wrong.” He thuds to the floor in front of me. “But that doesn’t matter to you, does it? Because your magic is different from all other types of witches. You are a ruby hidden amongst diamonds. Aren’t you, little witch?”

He tugs at my chain, twirling it between his fingers before allowing the medallion to settle between my breasts. His fingers tighten against the chain. “Don’t,” I beg.

“Who gave this to you?”

The magical serum chokes me until the answer spills free. “I inherited it from my father.”

“Who was your father?”

“Just a mortal man.” Truth.

“Your mother?”

“A mortal.” My throat squeezes because that isn’t quite true, is it? “A daughter of Artemis.”

“A blessed daughter.” He laughs at that, a cruel belly laugh, leaving me gasping from how mean he’s being. “Oh, Pepper. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, hoping that Artemis will somehow appear and save me from this moment. My gut says she won’t.

Everyone knows the legends of Artemis, of the virgin maiden. She has no biological daughters, only the ones she gives her blessings to. For a long time, my family thought it was nothing more than a curse, because although our figurative and proverbial arrows always struck true, love fell just out of reach.

Turns out that blessing granted us immortal mates.

“Artemis is only part of the answer, baby witch.” Again, Jasper grips my thighs, leaning in so close I can smell the crisp night air on him. “Your father had to have been a witch.”

“He was just a man.”

“Your truth isn’t lost on me, baby witch, but it also isn’t quite true, now is it?” He lifts the medallion from my chest. “This is proof.”

Don’t do it, Pepper, don’t even think about asking. “How?” I’m a traitor to my own logic.

“Only Hecate’s daughters have these.” He spins the medallion before allowing it to drop. “You are of her descent.”

“Impossible,” I spit, remembering the goddess. “I met her once.”

“And what did she tell you?”

I think back to my time in the Underworld, meeting the goddess and her camp in the woods of hell. She kept me from helping Vanessa overthrow Persephone, then after staring at me for hours, she told me… “She told me I wasn’t ready.”

“Fucking witches,” Jasper sneers before standing. He begins to pace around the man, who groans long and slow. “Let me give you a lesson, Pepper, on what you are… on your own mortality.” He pauses to glare at me from behind the man.

He waits as though he’s expecting me to beg him for an answer, to say please. He won’t get that from me though, not this easily, because I’m curious but I also don’t want to know.

Even if I need to.

It doesn’t matter what I want, though, because Jasper doesn’t wait for me to answer. He begins to talk. “Witches are almost always women, so while you are right, your father may have been nothing more than mortal, I guarantee his mother was not. Do you know her, Pepper?”

“I—” Sighing, I close my eyes, thinking back to everything my parents ever told me about my father’s parents, and it all revolved around one fact. “Dead.”

He snorts. “She’d have to be for you to have that medallion,” he points out. “Only death can rip a witch away from an heirloom such as that.”

Disappointment thrums through me. I never met her, but finding her and speaking with her would have helped me immensely.

“She would have left a grimoire,” he says to himself. I stay quiet, because who wouldn’t? I’m starting to think Jasper is all bark and no bite—unless it’s my neck. “I bet you don’t know where that is.” He snorts as he paces once more.

I shouldn’t become complacent around him, because my throat squeezes until I admit, “No.”

“We’ll find it, because, Pepper, you are very fucking mortal. So breakable. So precious,” he snarls as though he hates that fact just as much as I do. “You’re only turning twenty-four. What were the twins thinking, leaving the job as peacekeeper to you?”

“No idea.”

“Oh.” He pauses as though he forgot I was even there. “Witches aren’t like the rest of the immortals. They are soft, yet they wield unspeakable magic.” There’s a hint of something more in his voice—not quite jealousy, and not quite pride. “They remain mortal until their twenty-seventh birthday, when Saturn returns to the placement of your birth.”

“Wait,” I interrupt, earning a scowl from Jasper. “I am immortal.”

“No, are you not listening?” He’s angry and far too sore to make any sense right now. “You won’t be immortal until your twenty-seventh birthday.”

“Oh.” Hope lights up inside me. “Wait, I spent time with the amazons.”

“Themyscira?” He pauses. “How long?”

Again, the vise on my neck tightens. “Yes, and six-ish months.” I gulp down air. “How long until this shit wears off?”

“Until I want it to.” He grunts before casually swinging the not quite dead guy with a simple push to his gut. He’s confident in his movements and words, and he looks like he’s about to take on the devil himself. My body heats with desire.

There’s something wrong with me for being attracted to a psycho.

“That would mean we still have at least a year and a half,” he growls and stabs the guy in the thigh. Blood flows over his hand, and he shudders with pleasure. “There is no guarantee.”

A shiver dances up and down my spine. “Could you—”

“Oh, Teddy?” He steps away from the swinging man and brings his bloody fingers to his lips, licking the blood off. “You were supposed to help me find out his secrets. I can’t have you casting magic, Pepper.”

“What?” I have so many questions.

“You don’t know what magic you have, and it isn’t one of the typical five.” He walks away to grab a towel and wipe his hands off, only all he ends up doing is smearing the blood around. “I have to adjust my plans. I need help.” He spits the word as though it disgusts him.

“To?”

“I don’t know yet,” he admits.

“Let me go home.”

“No,” he snaps at me, and then softer, he adds, “Not until I know what you are.”

“I’m a witch, Jasper.”

“And up until ten minutes ago, you didn’t even know you were mortal. You fucked with your astrological chart, and now there is no telling when you will even become immortal. You still smell like poison—” He pauses, tilting his head to the side. “You still smell like poison, Pepper.” His voice changes, becoming more deadly. Sinister.

“Don’t,” I say again. I have no idea how many times I’ve damn near begged him with that word. He didn’t listen then, and he won’t listen now. “It isn’t your truth to know.”

“It will tell me an aspect of the dark, delicious power swirling in your core.” A new interest lights up his face. “Pepper, did you poison yourself?”

Again, the grinding of my teeth becomes almost too loud for my ears. “Not intentionally.” The noose around my neck tightens. “Yes,” I cry out.

“Why?”

“Don’t.” Tears burn behind my eyes, and Jasper once again comes to kneel before me. “If you make me relive this, there will never be anything between us,” I rasp, fighting the noose.

“You belong to me, Pepper, and thus your secrets belong to me as well. You just don’t know it,” he says in a calm, deadly tone.

“Rejection,” I snap at him, feeling the pain of the twins’ rejection rear up and wash over me again. Every moment since then amplifies. I relive every tear I’ve cried, and every ounce of anguish splinters through me. “I made an anti-love potion so I’d never fall prey to the games of fate, only it poisoned the bonds.”

The gasp that leaves my lips is guttural and raw, and a knowing settles in the pit of my belly as my mind lies to me, telling me over and over again how I’ll never be enough, how I will never be anything to anyone.

That is why I promised myself years ago that I wouldn’t allow a single damn person to own my emotions. Only me. This feeling, right here, that tries to splinter through me, from losing the loves of my life.

“Who in their right mind would reject you, baby witch?” He palms my face with his bloody hand, smearing the fluid across my cheek.

“Twins.” Nothing more needs to be said, he already knows who I’m talking about.

“So you are theirs too?”

“No.” I gasp, this time the noose unsure and allowing me to breathe and speak. “I belong to no one.”

“Oh, but you do, daughter of Hecate and Artemis.” He grips my cheek. “You do.”

“I won’t forgive you for this.”

“You will.”

I shake my head in denial.

“You will, because I’m going to teach you how to harness your magic. I’m going to pull you back from the hell you put yourself in where your wound did nothing but fester over the years. I am going to teach you to heal yourself by ripping the scabs off one by one.” He leans in, speaking over my lips. “Now watch.”

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as he pulls away and steps toward the man he called Teddy. In a fluid motion, he yanks the knife out before walking over to the lever and tugging on it. The man drops from the ceiling in a heap of groaning flesh. “I hoped you would do this for me.” He glances at me. “But now you’ll have to see who I am.”

“I see who you are,” I snap, so angry with him. Most of all, though, I’m mad at myself for falling into his trap and somehow knowing deep down inside that he’s right. “He doesn’t need to die.”

“Oh, but he does, Pepper. He’s a very bad man.” He pauses and licks his knife, his eyes remaining on mine the entire time. “And not just because he had that little drug in his pockets.”

“What—” Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.

“Did he do?” Jasper chuckles. “How dark is too dark, little witch?”

I shake my head, no longer wanting to know.

“Oh, but I think you do need to know.” He twirls the knife in his palm, sending droplets of blood flying. “Teddy here smells like rotten meat. His soul is a twisted heap of dirty deeds, deeds that shouldn’t exist. Do you want to know what those deeds are, Pepper?”

“No!” I shout, hoping he will stop, because there are bells ringing in my damn head.

“Choice is a funny thing, Pepper. See, I took away your choice for your benefit.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” I spit at him.

“And Teddy stole the choice of men and women alike, drugging and torturing them,” he yells right back. “You lost your choice to cast, those are two distinct differences.”

Words fail me as I look at Teddy with disgust.

“I wanted to see what you were made of and have you dive into his head and learn his secrets,” he says while licking blood off the knife. “I wanted to taste your magic on my tongue.”

My breathing becomes uneven.

“Teddy owes me answers.”

“Wait,” I scream just before he is about to grip his chains. I know he’s about to do something neither of us can ever come back from. Witnessing it will change me. “What if—” I lick my lips. “What if I do what you need me to?”

“Get the answers from him?” He laughs before kneeling behind Teddy. He grips him by the hair and lifts him up, mirroring what I did with the drug dealer at the bar. “You stand with one foot in the dark and one foot in the light, unsure of your morality, unsure of your mortality. You act as a gray witch with black magic. No, I think you will watch, because I am everything you could be.”

“I am not a demon.” We’ve already had this argument, and from his smile, he knows it too.

He lifts his knife to Teddy’s throat, and his eyes find mine over the feathered strands of his hair. They appear as nothing more than two of the darkest pits that belong in hell.

No, not hell. I’ve been there, walked those roads, and traversed those mountains. Jasper is something entirely separate from the Underworld, a creature unto his own—one who lives by no one’s rules but his own, and not one single individual, mortal and immortal alike, has ever told him to color inside the lines.

I know what he’s going to do before he does it, and like a train wreck, there is nothing I can do to stop the horror from occurring. He promised to ruin me.

I didn’t understand his promise until this moment. He intends to eliminate any innocence I had left inside me.

The knife slices across his throat, Jasper’s hand never once shaking, and one single sickening thought echoes in my head. He made it look so easy.

Blood spurts from Teddy’s neck, arcing outward as Jasper hits an artery. Bile swells in my throat, and I swallow it down again and again. I won’t look away, not from this.

Jasper’s lips begin to move, and a wooden bowl gets set under the spray of blood where he gathers it. One last spurt squirts out of his neck before his heart dies, and it’s done.

No sound.

No screams.

Nothing.

I can feel my body shaking, my skin cutting into the zip ties as Jasper drops the body onto the floor. His blood slowly begins to pour down into the drain. At the same time, Jasper kneels over the body, his lips moving in silence, and those unearthly eyes remain glued to me. Magic swells in the room like a live electrical wire during a thunderstorm.

His steady hands bring the wooden bowl up to his lips, and Jasper begins to drink his blood. Only then does he close his eyes.

Only then do I look to the side where I can no longer hold back the bile that spews from my lips. Vomit hits the floor, spraying all over the chair and hitting the body. Drool drips from my mouth once I’m finished, and a burn settles in my nostrils and throat.

“I need to make a call,” Jasper mutters. “A visit.”

My neck cracks as I look back over at him. The empty bowl hangs from his hands as he tilts his head, looking at me but not at me. Blood drips from his mouth and onto his chin, and his knees are soaked.

Somehow, I see the hero he once was, the warrior that made him into a demon. I refuse to admit the gods chose well, because I’m tied to a chair and he just made me watch him murder someone.

All at once, he turns around, only to stalk across the room.

“Jasper,” I yell. He doesn’t turn around. “Jasper, you can’t leave me here.”

His feet shuffle to a stop, and he just barely looks over his shoulder before flipping his hoodie up. “One more thing. It’s amazing what saline and the power of thought can do to the mind.” He strides away through a door.

He… tricked me? There was nothing in that syringe? Impossible.

In the next breath, all the lights blink out one by one.

“Dick,” I grumble. “You had your fun, demon. I won’t allow you to retake my will,” I promise him in the dark. “Next time, it will be you.”

Just as soon as I get myself out of here.

Chapter 15

Van

“All I wanted was a pet.” I drizzle the teensiest amount of dragon saliva into the presently stable mixture. “A puppy perhaps.” One drop. Two. Slow and steady. “Something to cuddle and play fetch with.” This is where I messed up the last time. Three became four, and that was it. The spell blew up in my face. “Easy, easy now.”

Plop.

“No.” The word barely spills from my lips before I fly backward and slam onto the floor. My head thumps on the hardwood floor, leaving me to stare at the ceiling of my prison.

It’s nothing more than an endless night sky, a slight reprieve from the endlessness of my exile.

Dramatic? Sure.

I have nothing else to entertain me unless I’m needed.

As the aches in my body slowly fade, I sit up to glare at my workbench. My ruined spell burps and bubbles, spilling onto the stainless steel like live tar. “Worthless.” I roll to my knees before standing and stalking back to the table.

“Fine, no dragon puppy.” Crossing my arms, I glare at the mess I made. My foot taps before I get irritated enough to wave a hand and dismiss my table altogether.

I’m bored.

I’m not just bored, but I’m losing intelligence by being stuck here, one precious cell at a time.

Daemons are often bound to something. Me? I’m bound to this pocket of existence, trapped by a god who saved me, and in doing so, I no longer leave unless I barter with the place. I call it the Cinderella curse.

The only problem is, I don’t know how he saved me. I’ve forgotten, though I know the fact lurks somewhere in the back of my mind, just waiting to be plucked.

I’m also not sure I want to know what I did to land in exile. That truth has no use to me now. My mortal self is something that existed long ago and no longer serves me.

Yet I’m still bored.

With a wave of my hand, I bring up the vast library I’m bound to. Doors line the walls, leading to rooms all over the universe. Only a handful of immortals have access to those doors. I’ve met but two. The others remain waiting, while I wait for them to have need of me.

Eternity in a library. “I deserve a pet,” I mutter while weaving between tables and heading toward the aisle on all things small and furry. “Even a library mouse would suffice at this point.” I would prefer a pregnant one. It could breed until the end of time, producing an endless supply of pets for me to love and cherish.

I love the pets of Earth, except I prefer the pets of the star system—bang!

With a sigh, I turn on a heel and glare across the stacks at a bloody daemon stalking through my clean library. Really, there isn’t a speck of dirt in here. His access door sits open, showing me utter darkness beyond. They are all far too careful about keeping the secrets of the outside safe. No matter, though, because I have books.

“Stop,” I command him.

“I need you.” He pauses in his advance, glued to the spot, and doesn’t move farther.

“You are dripping blood,” I sneer, glaring at the droplets on my floor.

“And you are flickering,” he snaps back.

Glancing at my hands, I find his words are valid. Most days, it’s hard to hold on to a form. I forget what I once looked like. It’s been far too many years. I solidify, and white skin gleams in the ambient light as though I’m glowing. “There.”

“Do you have time?” he questions, knowing damn well I have time.

“Heathen.” I snort with disdain. Waving a hand, I let the library fall and move us to a clean room. The white walls gleam, and the fluorescent lights buzz from above. “Disgusting,” I mutter and sniff long and slow at the iron permeating the air. “Mortal.”

I pull another workbench up and watch as the one called Jasper tosses a bowl onto the table. Blood flies out to mar my white walls, where it instantly disappears under the surface.

“Still the same pretentious jerk, I see.” Jasper flips his hoodie down, leaving me to glare at his death mark.

“The beheaded warrior.”

“He didn’t even do it right,” Jasper grouses, as always. I do love this conversation. Most daemons are far too stuffy to talk about their death marks. Me? Well, I am a curious creature.

A smile lifts my lips. It’s been almost a year since I’ve had company, so I’m going to draw this interaction out. “It appears he did not.” I cross to the other side of the table to face Jasper and his brooding silence.

He lifts his hand, mimicking a knife slicing across his neck. “Not that hard.”

“Would you like me to adjust that for you?”

He snorts and runs a thumb across his bottom lip. “And die all over again? No, thank you.”

“The offer stands.” As it will until eternity, but just like all the other times I offered to kill him again, he denies me that pleasure. “Why are you here, Jasper?” My daemon brethren don’t visit often. They are the only ones who visit me aside from the doors I oversee and the charges beyond.

“I told you I have need of you.”

“How is the city?” I lean on the table. Unlike me, Jasper is bound to the city. They, whoever it is that creates us daemons, did not give him a reason other than this is the city he had to protect as a daemon.

“It just got interesting.”

“Oh, do tell,” I purr.

Jasper grunts out, “Dead guy,” like the caveman he is.

I point to the wooden bowl stained with blood on my table. “I assume you drank his blood to learn his secrets?” Intrigued, I right the bowl and bring up all my lab equipment.

It isn’t lab equipment in the earthly sense, but that of a metaphysical sense. Learning secrets from blood requires far more care than just creating a bomb or peering through a microscope, but I do pull up my microscope to view the cells lingering on the bowl.

“Recent?” I ask when he doesn’t answer me.

“I came right here.” Jasper damn near snarls at that fact. There is a story there to unravel, but not yet.

Using a dropper, I move a bit of blood to the slide and peer through the lens. “Hmm,” I hum. “Mortal but…” I glance up at Jasper. “Who was he?”

“A diplomat, a business executive, and a general piece of shit that bled his little dick energy all over my city.”

“That isn’t an answer, and you know it, Jasper.”

Leaning into my space, Jasper glares through me with his dark eyes. “I don’t know. His name means very little to me. It isn’t what the person does in the public eye that makes them bleed black, but what they hide.” He points to the bowl with the blood, his lip lifting once more. “That one is as vile as they come, and aside from the nonconsent I lifted off his soul, he is still full of something else, so I don’t know.”

I rear back a little. “That’s not your usual style.”

“When I tasted his essence a few nights ago. The shitbag was on his way to a business meeting.” He waves his hand at the blood covering his knees. I’m inclined to pinch my nose to keep from scenting the iron rich fluid. “He was too vile for me to consume past the surface shit.”

“Ah, yes, tainted blood.” I spin the microscope. “Look at the black specks attached to his cells. That is no mere mortal virus.” Now I’m even more intrigued.

“Can you pull his secrets?”

“What do you desire to know?” I sigh and pull two test tubes off the tray and ready my space. On the far wall, I pull up all my herbs and more from all over the realms. When Jasper doesn’t answer, I look up at him. “I cannot help if you do not give me something.”

“You would concoct something anyway because you are bored.” Jasper crosses his arms and glares at me.

He’s right, I am bored, but my help also comes at a cost, and he damn well knows it—knowledge. I’m bound to this forsaken library, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t make the best of it over the years.

I barter for knowledge, so anything he learns will belong to me as well.

“You have a need,” I say slowly, feeling my power rise between us.

“I can do it myself.”

I laugh at him. “If you could have, then you wouldn’t be here bothering me.”

“Fine.” He curses under his breath. “He was with a man the other night who got away.”

This time, I outright laugh at him. “That isn’t like you, Jasper.” My voice is teasing. “You never let prey go.”

“A distraction stole my attention.”

“You? Distracted?” Oh, I am fully invested now. “This is better than my soaps.”

“You need to stop watching that shit.”

“What else am I going to watch?” I dismiss him, because no one is going to get between me and my earthly soap operas. “Carry on.”

“As I said, a distraction appeared, and I accidentally let the other guy get away.” He pauses as though he’s chewing on a thought. Knowing I have far more patience than him, I wait. After all, when one is eternal, there is no need to rush. “He’s connected to a few dead bodies in my city. Overdoses. My gut feeling is all the proof I currently have, and I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?” I snort and go about making my potion. “Tell me about this drug.”

Jasper isn’t the kind of daemon one commands to do something, but here, in my library, he is free from all his duties, though his time remains limited. Eventually, the city will pull him back. He doesn’t need to act like the shadow he is in my domain. We are equal, but I’m clearly better than him, otherwise he wouldn’t have shown up in my dominion, asking for my help. Actions speak louder than words, after all.

“I’m working with a witch.”

“Oh, do tell.” I glance up to peer at him over the thick frames of my glasses. I don’t need them, but they make me look sexy.

“She’s the new peacekeeper of the city.”

“Interesting,” I murmur as I pull down a little lemongrass for flavor. It shall overcome the winter fae blood I need to reveal the secrets held in the blood. “Your charge perhaps?”

“No,” he snaps far too quickly.

I bury my laugh and refrain from looking up at him. She must be his charge. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have answered so fast.

Needing to explain himself, he rushes on. “I’ve been in that city for years now. It would have been clear from the start if she were my assignment.”

“You know the Fates don’t work that way.”

“Fuck the Fates.”

“I dare you to say that to their faces.” Ever so slowly, I grab the last ingredient—the shaving of a minotaur’s horn for strength—otherwise, the entire potion would fall.

“Can I ask—”

“Shhhh,” I hush and glance at him over the rim of my glasses. “The last ingredient.”

Rolling his eyes, Jasper steps away, leaving me to my concoction.

Ignoring him, I drop the shaving into the test tube and hold my breath.

Some potions fail, and others… “Yes.” Others succeed. I sigh in relief. “It just needs to simmer for a few minutes. What were you going to ask?”

Jasper doesn’t answer at first, glaring out the one-way mirror into the library. Aisles upon aisles rise to the right, while the tables where others can sit and read lie in a chevron pattern to the left. “I’m seeking a grimoire.”

I almost laugh in his face until he looks over. “You’re serious.”

“You know I wouldn’t lie to you,” he says, and though I often question Jasper’s motives, he wouldn’t lie to me. “The witch.”

“Has lost her ancestral grimoire.” I nod. It’s a common issue amongst witches. They are supposed to be creatures who thrive in a coven, surrounded by other magic wielders.

There is one problem, though, and it’s one that has transpired for as long as I’ve been the spirit of this library—witches are catty bitches. Sure, they thrive in a coven, but they are solitary creatures at heart. They thrive individually but need the magic of others. It’s a catch twenty-two.

It isn’t surprising that an ancestor hid a family grimoire out of spite.

“I’ll need her blood to hunt it down.” It’s easy enough to do.

“She’s a baby witch.”

“And a peacekeeper?” Shock rumbles through me. “Impossible. The Fates wouldn’t be that foolish. She’ll die within weeks.”

“It’s true,” he grits out.

“Her blood won’t work.” I drum my fingers on my workbench. “She must become immortal. That is when the DNA lying dormant inside her will awake. How many years does she have?”

“Another problem. She trained in another realm, so she has no true age.”

“Foolish child.” I tsk under my breath. “No crone for guidance, I assume.”

“Only Artemis.”

Now I groan. “You are looking for a needle in a haystack.” I nod to myself and my fingers rap on my workbench. “I’ll help.” The witch intrigues me. Of course, I don’t admit that to him. Any witch whom Jasper feels the need to investigate is intriguing. He’s outright killed many, so why is this one so different?

“I assumed you’d enjoy the challenge.”

“Of course I would.” There’s still a moment left on the potion. It’s bubbling away beautifully. “Where is the witch now?”

“Tied up in my warehouse in the dark.” Jasper’s statement is unrepentant.

Must he make my life so hard? “You are a fool.”

“She is a fool,” he spits, the shadow coming forth in his venom. “How am I to keep her safe?”

I smile at him, and I can feel it’s an ugly smile, one full of knowing. “Oh.” That’s all I have to say for him to come undone.

“She is mine, Van. Mine.”

“Thank you for using my chosen name.” I sniff, ignoring his caveman proclamation.

Rolling his eyes, he gives me a death glare then says, “Only because you refuse to acknowledge your true name.”

“Shh.” I hold a finger to my lips.

“I think…” He licks his lips, the unruly daemon ruffled. “She drank a potion to keep her from feeling love,” he blurts out.

“And?”

“Never mind,” he growls, pointing to the potion that’s stopped bubbling. “Is that finished yet?”

I sigh, feeling torn because I was so thoroughly enjoying that conversation. Threads keep unraveling one after another, only to reveal an intricate knot of truth. “I want to know more about this witch, but alas, the potion has finished brewing.” Jasper grabs one of the two tubes and hands one to me.

“Bottoms up.”

“You are creepy,” he comments but still takes the tube from my fingers.

Yes, I am. I grip the tube, throw it back, and brace myself to see. It doesn’t take long before the library fades away, and excitement hums in my veins. A journal opens in the library, and a quill writes out all I see. It’s the price Jasper must pay, knowledge of that which he seeks.

A building rises before me, at least three stories tall with a glass front. The host of this memory doesn’t waste his time on the scenery. He’s in far too much of a rush. His body feels heavy, out of breath, and tired.

Mortal.

As one, we step into a revolving door and then into a grand entrance. Marble floor gleams in my vision before the host remembers to keep his head up. His eyes don’t linger on trivial things, things that would have relevance to me. No, he rushes toward a set of doors.

An elevator.

The doors open, and he steps inside. The building is old, and the elevator has wallpaper that must have, at one point, caught fire. He uses his chubby finger to press the button on the third floor.

Unease sweeps through me—his. This isn’t a meeting he’s looking forward to, it isn’t one he even wanted to attend, but he’s nothing more than a pawn.

As the elevator rumbles and then jerks to a halt, the man steps out before the doors are fully open.

The area doesn’t just feel old. It has an atmosphere that a building only obtains from years of standing, retaining decades of residual emotions in the walls. The host feels this even more so. Goosebumps ripple across his body, and he shivers before regaining control of himself.

He steps down the hall to the left. Gray carpeting with geometric shapes gives the hallway a disorienting feeling. He heads to the end, not looking at the little signs beside the doors, instead keeping his focus narrowed on the end.

His heart rate spikes as he steps around the corner and reaches for an old wooden door with glass. It opens easily beneath his fingers. He quickly steps inside, his head high until…

Squish.

Heart pounding, he glances down. Blood. There’s blood everywhere. The waiting room is nothing more than a gruesome murder scene. My eyes jerk up to the slightly ajar door ahead, and with trembling fingertips, I reach out and push the door open.

Just beyond the archway, I see the usual chair sitting there, the polished leather shining in the sunlight, yet it is what I hear that has me straining to listen.

Someone is sharpening a knife.

“I cannot allow you to keep this memory, now can I?” A blast of magic strikes the host in the chest, thus flinging me from the scene.

Shock ripples through me as I jerk back into my body, and my eyes flutter open to find Jasper staring at me.

His dark, coal-like eyes bleed with smoke as they take me in, and his nostrils flare. The memory the potion gifted us is but one and the same. Judging by the anger rippling across his features, it didn’t have the answer he sought.

“This answers none of my questions,” Jasper complains, and concern wafts off of him in waves. “It only opens up a whole new set.”

“You know as well as I do that the magic of knowing only allows us to see what we need to see.” I gasp and shudder as I recall all of that blood. “Whoever this man was, he was involved in something sinister and dark, and it clung to his very cells.”

“I need to find the man that was with him.” Jasper pinches his lips in thought.

“Take me with you.” I stand tall, allowing the demand to fall off my lips, yet the library walls ripple their disagreement as soon as they are out.

“You know I cannot,” Jasper says with regret in his voice, the feeling foreign to him.

Sadness washes through me. I understand, but it doesn’t mean I agree. This is my prison. My hell. My exile.

“Where will you go now?” I ask.

A dark smile lights up his face. “There.”

I nod. He already knows where that building is.

“I’m sending you a gift,” he states.

“I will await your return,” I reply because something in my gut yells that this is far from over. There is so much more here than what meets the eye.

“One more question.” Jasper hesitates. “Terror.”

“What of it?” I swallow my memories as they threaten to surge through me.

“His cells.”

My eyes dart to the table where the blood sits, and I pull the microscope toward me to peer through. There, the little black cells clings to the others, acting as though it is a parasite. “What are you, and why are you there?”

I look up, finding the door open and Jasper gone.

No matter, I have things to do, a puzzle to piece together, and here on my table is a clue. Gripping the bowl, I pull it toward me and swipe my finger through the blood. My tongue wraps around my finger, and I lick it off.

Like many other daemons, blood tastes sweet to me. My mortal self would have found the taste overloaded with iron, but now? It’s a delicious treat.

Yet there, buried deep in the blood, is a hint of terror I haven’t tasted in far too long. It’s terror that doesn’t belong in a human cell, not even an immortal cell.

I’m busy glaring through the microscope when bodies fall on my floor. Presents.

My spine tingles, drawing me away from my workbench and the dead and out into the dusty library. Ahead, one of my doors lights up.

“Open it,” I whisper into the stale air. One of my charges has found her door.

Long ago, the god who bound me here created these doors. For me, they lead to my charges. For them, it leads to an armory, one that finds them when they need it most. It is a room attached to this library, yet they do not have the power to come to this place.

The armory was a gift to them from a god who should no longer exist, one that meddled in their lives all because he fell in love with a mortal woman. It’s a Greek tragedy and a story as old as time.

Immortals and mortals alike do unspeakable things in the name of love, except I wouldn’t know, not truly. I’ve never loved, and it is a weakness the Fates wouldn’t gift a creature such as me, an abomination, as all daemons are. However, one may hope that in the future they may change their minds. I step closer to the door, willing it to open as I yearn for more interaction, yet I catch my reflection in a glass set aside on a table—my doing, of course, but it allows my reflection to peer back at me. I see white skin, white hair, and red eyes. I’m a horror that has no business walking amongst mortals.

It is why I exist here in exile.

The glow from the door fades as the moment ends.

“Just as well,” I whisper, feeling the weight of solitariness press down upon me. “I suppose it’s far too much to ask for one of my brethren to join me.” No one answers.

It’s just me.

“At least I have a puzzle to solve.” I spin on a heel, heading back to my laboratory with purpose in my stride.

Chapter 16

Pepper

He left me. He just let me right here tied to a damn chair, with zip ties that continue to chafe. My irritation with the devilishly handsome daemon slowly grows.

How dare he?

How very dare he?

The only reason I’m not screaming for help is because… I have no good reason really. Not one. I should cry for help, yell into the night, and be the dramatic bitch I am.

One problem. He’s right.

Also, the other issue is the dead man bleeding out on the floor. He drank his blood. Honestly, what the actual pixie dust was he thinking? There must be a reason he did what he did. Dammit it to hell, that intrigues me.

At least with the lights out, I can’t see the dead guy. I’ll smell him eventually, just not yet. Not to mention the two body bags lying mere feet from me.

I’ve nothing to do but think. Although it feels like an eternity has passed, I am positive it’s been only a matter of minutes. I’m mad at Jasper, that’s for damn sure, especially for stabbing me with a damn syringe of some bullshit.

I would have eventually given him hints about the truth. Maybe. Alright, probably not. Life is painful enough, and reliving trauma through words can be just as traumatic as the event. No one wants to relive that shit.

Now, though, all I can think about is him claiming I’m nothing more than a mere mortal. Why that dig claws into my heart is anyone’s guess. Okay, I’ll guess. It’s because I just assumed that with magic came the illusion of immortality to practice said magic.

My eyes blink closed. I should have known better. How could I not have known better? And the truth bombs that Dad was the son of a witch? My legs itch to go back to the garage and dig through Dad’s old hiding places.

It doesn’t matter where I came from or what lineage I descended from. I know who I am. I am a witch. Magic runs through my veins. I just have to figure out my magic and somehow survive to my twenty-seventh birthday. No pressure. Why didn’t Artemis mention any of this? Why keep that a secret?

And Hecate. I met her, and even though we didn’t share many words, she could have mentioned that I was one of her descendants.

A seed of betrayal drops to the center of my soul. It’s a simmer of pain, one that doesn’t burn into something more thanks to the potion I drank to protect myself from love.

Yes, I sit here hurting and annoyed, but I know the pain is nothing compared to what I would feel if I hadn’t taken that potion.

“Enough of this shit.” My fingers feel along the chair, well, what I can feel. I’ve already forgotten if it was wood or metal. “Just a little… more.” My shoulder strains, and it pinches. Any farther, and I think it might pop.

Okay. Next plan. I want to get out of here now and get to the garage. If I fling myself backward, I’ll just end up doing a dead bug impersonation with a squished side, but if I can throw myself down and get the chair legs to bust, maybe I can get my limbs free.

Isn’t that how Hollywood does it? I’ve got this.

Planting my feet on the floor, I ever so slowly lean forward using all my muscle strength, which isn’t a lot. “Dear self, I promise that if we get out of this, I’m going to turn those curves into muscle.”

I have muscle, I just have more curves than muscle. All I have to do is return to the regime I learned while training with the amazons. That’s it. Simple. Easy.

“Don’t break anything,” I whisper to, well, myself, because no one is going to save me right now.

Not Artemis. Not Hecate. No coven, and not my family.

I teeter forward. My heart thuds in my chest and ears as I almost lose my balance. Before I can talk myself out of it, I throw myself backward.

The chair does not shatter like it did when I imagined this in my head. Instead, I wobble precariously and then tip backward. “No, no, no.” I brace for impact just as the overhead lights flip on and the fluorescent lights buzz in my ears.

Blinded, I land back on my hands, and dammit, did my shoulder just pop? My distressed groan echoes all around me as pain shoots outward from my shoulder to my zip-tied hands.

“Kitten.” Jasper steps into view, blocking the light from above. “I bet that hurt.”

I spit at him, allowing myself to feel irritation at his presence. How dare he look good covered in blood?

“I see we’re no longer in shock. Good. We have work to do.” He leans down and lifts me up, settling my chair back where it was.

So much for saving myself. “We? We?” My voice rises. “There is no we here, psycho.”

“Aww, look at that. You gave me a pet name.” I open my mouth to spit at him again. “Save it, I need to send these bodies to a…” He tilts his head from side to side. “Colleague.”

“Nope, doesn’t sound right,” I retort. “You could try friend.”

“No.” He steps back, heading toward the body bags, and hefts one up as though it’s nothing more than a sack of potatoes. He kicks open the door he walked through earlier and tosses it in.

“Jasper.”

“No,” he says again, walking over to the other body, lifting that one, and repeating the same steps. I try to interrupt one more time, and again, he says, “No.” I wait until all the dead bodies are gone and he’s standing before me with his hands on his hips. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Untie me,” I hiss at him.

“What, so you can spread around magic you cannot control?” He arches a brow at me.

“I have control.”

“The fact that you fell on your ass while tasting the dead guy I just tossed through that door says otherwise.” He pulls out a knife from his pocket and flips it open.

I rear back as far as I can go. “Jasper,” I warn, feeling my palms sweat.

“Afraid of a little blood play?” He gives me a knowing, crooked smile as he slowly kneels before me.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn. “I will come back from the dead and haunt your ass.”

“Promise?” He peers up at me from beneath long lashes. Those dark eyes are teasing and sensual in a way that would only ever work for him.

He reaches down and cuts through the zip ties.

For a moment, I savor the rush of blood that surges back to my starved limbs before I kick him in the ribs. Falling backward into the blood, he laughs as though my attempt at revenge is amusing to him.

“You asshole!” I yell at him and jerk myself free of the chair, only to come up short when it follows me.

“Yes.” He kicks up to a standing position, stalking toward me. “Do it again, baby. Get it all out of your system.”

I growl at him. Maybe any other person would let this go, or perhaps a better woman would grumble at him and walk out that damn door, but I’m not a better person, so I swing around and hit him with the chair.

“Oh, that’s cute.” He laughs at me, spurring my anger. “You really are a kitten. Go ahead, baby, rawr.”

I kick his shin and try to control my emotions that I know are about to spin out of control and spill out all over him.

He barely even budges, so I kick him again before he can snark at me.

“That one almost hurt.”

“If I had my hands…” I swing the chair around again, only for him to catch it, leaving me immobilized and staring at the door to freedom.

“You’d what? Spill your uncontrolled magic at me?” He snaps the chair and breaks the zip tie attached to the pieces, all while leaving my hands still bound. “Go ahead, try it.”

He pushes me away, my legs stumble, and I reach deep down, trying to find my inner diva, the unique bitch who won’t take anyone’s shit.

A sexy demon is clearly not a fighting match for me. I’m just distracted by his allure, that’s all.

I’m going to try to hurt him though, even with the pain in my shoulder. My shoulder! I step through my hands since my damn arm sits there like a loose rubber band.

Sneering at Jasper over my detached shoulder, I look for something, anything, to snap it back in place.

“Hurt yourself, sweetheart?” he says, somehow making the endearment sound like a sneer.

“No,” I lie, still looking for a doorframe I can use to pop my shoulder back into place.

“What did I say about lying to me, kitten?” He tsks under his breath. “For that—”

I look away for one freaking second, and he’s directly in front of me, snapping my shoulder back into place.

Not going to lie, that hurt like hell.

I stand there frozen for a moment, my legs locked up and my thighs screaming at me. My body shivers from head to freaking toe, and all I can say is, “Ow.”

“Sting a bit, mortal?” He doesn’t even bother to move out of my way as I kick at his abs.

I am instantly glad I wore these boots when my foot hits a hard wall of muscle. That amount of muscle will not impress me, nor will his core strength.

“That’s what grade A steel feels like, baby.” He pauses as I seethe. “You’re like a honey badger.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Can’t kill what’s already dead, honey badger.”

I launch myself at him with everything I’m worth and take us both to the ground. My thighs cling to him like the spider monkey I am, and just before we fall to the floor, I head butt him in the face.

The delicious snap of his nose is music to my ears, except he just keeps laughing as we thud to the concrete floor. “Oh, my sweet little virgin.”

“I am not sweet, and I am not a virgin!” I’m going to annihilate his balls. I sit up and let my ass fall on his groin as hard as I can.

Ignore the stick of dynamite in his pants, Pepper. It is not good for you.

Nope. Don’t do it.

“You’re hard?” Dammit, I didn’t ignore the erection.

“Baby, this is all foreplay to me.” His eyes sparkle, and his hands tighten on my hips.

Defeated, I roll off him, my arms still bound in front of me and my breath heaving. I lie here and stare at the warehouse rafters, irritated he got the better of me.

“You don’t play by the rules of the fight.”

“I fight with honor.”

Jasper laughs at me. “You do not. You fight dirty. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have landed on my dick.” He rolls to his side and peers down at me. “You fight dirty in a mortal way.”

My nostrils flare because I’ve about had enough of his bullshit antics. I have shit to do.

He reaches out and presses a finger to my lips. “You need to learn to play immortal dirty.”

Fine. I bite his finger. Hard.

He doesn’t even move, and instead chuckles at me before urging me on. “Harder.”

I lick his finger and roll up and away from him. “Untie me.”

“Not yet, honey badger.”

“Kitten, kitty, baby, baby witch, honey badger.” I glare at him over my shoulder. He hasn’t moved from his position on the floor beside me. “Pick one.”

“No.”

“Dammit, Jasper.” I hang my head until curiosity eats at me. “What do I have to do to get you to untie me?”

“I need you to agree to something for me.” He picks at the linen of my pants before looking up at me from beneath his devilish lashes.

“Name the terms.”

“Agree first.”

Now I laugh at him. “Why would I ever agree to anything without first learning the terms and conditions?”

“No one ever reads them anyway.”

“This is different, Jasper, and you damn well know that.” I want to keep kicking him until I finally hurt him. The fact that I can’t hurt him burrows its way under my skin.

We aren’t in the same fighting league, and the amazons trained me. That little tidbit of mortality slaps me in the face.

He tugs on my pants. “Agree.” He unravels a thread, creating a hole in my pants. “I have plenty of time, Pepper. I can keep you locked away until your Saturn returns and you’re immortal and safe.”

“Is that what this is?” I scoff. “A play to keep me safe?” I shake my head.

“What if I say it is?”

“I’d say you are out of your damn mind.” I lean my head back, and the feeling in my hands stings as a painful numbness settles in. “Fine.”

“Say, I agree to Jasper’s terms and conditions,” he says in a playful tone.

I growl, “I agree to Jasper’s terms and conditions.” Okay, it comes out more mocking than I’d have liked.

“Good girl.”

“Don’t you dare,” I seethe. His magic ghosts over me, touching me with ethereal fingers and stealing any other venom I might throw at him. Like a caress against my soul, magic burrows inside of me before settling, and then, just as fast, it dissipates. “What the hell did I just agree to?”

He smirks at me before freeing my hands. Unlike my legs, when the blood rushes into my hands, they sting. Shaking them out, I try to massage the ache away, hoping that will help, but it doesn’t.

“You won’t practice magic until you have a mentor, and then and only then shall they determine what you can and cannot do,” he states as though it’s just a coffee order.

“What?” I whisper, already mourning the loss of my magic.

“You do not know what dark magic is capable of, and you, my baby witch, are abundant in the darkest of magic.”

“Like a demon,” I add. “Like you.”

“You do pay attention.” He stands slowly, bringing me with him until we face each other. “One wrong sneeze, and black magic could bring an entire civilization to its knees. That is what you carry inside you. That another allowed you to walk around like that is abhorrent to me.”

“So you would rather leave me defenseless.” I step away, the loss of my magic turning me bitter.

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “You have me,” he says slowly with a little more sugar in his voice.

“Screw this.” I toss the zip ties at his feet and march toward the door to the outside. “I don’t need you,” I mutter, even though I taste the lie on my tongue this time. My hand falls to the doorknob, which is warm despite how cold and confused I feel. My head thumps against the door, and for the first time, Jasper remains quiet.

I don’t need him.

I don’t need him.

Yet no matter how many times I say it in my head, it doesn’t make it true. I might not need Jasper to teach me magic, but I need him to help me find someone who will.

“I know you aren’t doing this for me,” I whisper and release the doorknob. Turning around, I glare at him with all the vehemence I possess. He stands mere feet away, just watching and waiting for me to work through everything alone. “You are doing this because you view this city as yours somehow, and you see me as a threat to that.”

“Yes,” he answers unrepentantly.

“I already regret you.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of regrets.” His crow’s feet wrinkle further as he gives me a cruel smile. “I won’t go easy on you,” he states in that monotone voice that tells me he doesn’t want to let me know how he’s really feeling.

“I wouldn’t suppose you would.” His admission doesn’t even surprise me.

In the next breath, my back smacks against the door, and his hand wraps around my throat. “You don’t get it, do you? Dark magic isn’t for the faint of heart. We aren’t evil, and we aren’t out to set the world on fire. Our existence balances out the light,” he sneers. “We exist because we aren’t afraid to shed a little blood.”

“Blood that still covers your hands.”

“Blood that still covers you.” He leans in, reminding me he smeared blood on my face earlier. He licks my face as he tilts my head to the side, holding me captive. Dragging his tongue to my ear, he nips the sensitive lobe, confusing my feelings for him. I love his touch, but I hate what he did to me. “Tell me, little demon, do you have what it takes to embrace the darkness and live in the shadows?” His tongue drags along the shell of my ear, and a breathy moan spills from my lungs despite myself. “Or do you prefer to pretend to be something you’re not?”

My teeth grind in the space between us as I struggle to regain control of my body and mind. “What do I have to do?”

He presses his body against mine, and my hands fist at my sides as I remain strong against his touch. “Good witch.” He backs away with that devious glint in his eye. “Time to go hunting and maybe call your princess.”

Nikko will never forgive me for involving Jasper in any of this.

I’m not sure I forgive myself.

Chapter 17

Pepper

“Let’s go.” Jasper doesn’t allow any room for thought. One minute he’s standing before me, and the next, he’s gripping my arm and steering me out of his warehouse as though I’m a doll he wants to toss around. His fingers dig into the flesh of my biceps, leaving little fingerprint bruises beneath my sensitive skin.

I try to break his hold, but Jasper only tightens his grip, proving once again that he’s no mere mortal and I… am. Normally I wouldn’t mind a little R&R—rough and rowdy—but today, it’s an issue.

Annoyed but glad to leave Jasper’s little playhouse behind, I let him steer me out into the crisp night air. “Were you really going to help decorate my porch?” The words roll from my lips like well-placed little bombs.

I don’t mean to say them, but I do. I don’t even know why it’s so damn important to me to ask, but it is. Jasper lets go only when we get close to the car, where he opens the door for me like the gentleman he is not.

“Yes,” he replies as though it’s just that simple.

It isn’t. “Why?” I don’t climb in despite him gripping my shoulder and attempting to push me into the car—the same one he stole. I know he’s giving me this moment of rebellion, as he sees me as nothing more than a petulant child, but I still resist the urge to stomp a foot.

His dark eyes stare down at me as the fall wind whips around us. There really isn’t anyone out here. That is probably why Jasper has his warehouse here.

No one can hear the screams.

“It was the look on your face,” he says with false softness.

“I can never tell if you are being genuine or just telling me what I want to hear,” I mutter and go to sit in the car, only Jasper has other ideas. His hand snaps out to grip my throat, and my breath stutters as he presses me against the frame. The metal digs into the back of my neck, and my balance wavers from the door being opened behind me. His other hand snaps out to grip my hip to keep me from falling.

“I won’t lie to you, unlike you.” There’s a challenge in his voice, daring me to tell the truth, but truth never got me anywhere good.

“That doesn’t explain why you said you’d help me decorate the porch or why it even mattered to you. I think the last couple of hours have shown me just how unpredictable you can be. I’m finding it hard to understand why you would even bother to commit to something because of a look on my face.” The words rush out just like the breeze that wraps around us.

His grip on my neck tightens a fraction before he softens. His thumb makes little swipes against the skin on my throat, confusing me further. I should hate him, yet his touch sends little sparks of pleasure radiating straight to my clit.

Does he really want to cut me to pieces just to see how I work like he told me earlier? He touches me like I mean something, and dammit, that bothers me.

Mama always told me to pay attention to someone’s actions, not their words. Jasper’s actions are screaming that he wants me, while his words say otherwise.

“I could tell it meant something to you,” he says while standing a mere few feet from me. He’s close enough that I can feel his warmth but far enough away that I can tell he’s keeping his distance from me now. “I’m a daemon, Pepper. I don’t follow the rules of mortals, and I don’t follow the rules of immortals. If I see something I like, I take it. If I taste evil, I kill it. If a pretty girl looks at a porch wistfully and I want to see her smile, I’ll pick up a few pumpkins to carve.” I open my mouth to reply, but he quickly tightens his hold on my neck and then dips a thumb into my mouth, where he presses down and prevents me from talking. “And if said pretty girl needs to learn her magic, then I’m going to make sure that happens as well.”

He lets go, stepping back and leaving me off-kilter. Spinning around, he flips his hoodie up, covering his face as his steps crunch along the gravel.

Ever so slowly, I slide into the car, a thought tickling the back of my head. It builds, and just as I shut the door to turn to Jasper, I almost lose it. Why? Because the walking contradiction reaches over and buckles my seat belt.

“I now have to remember to drive safely,” he grumbles.

“You knew I was mortal before you dropped that little bomb, yet you still drove like a demon.” I snort and struggle to keep that thought at the forefront of my mind. My mouth opens and closes a few times before little squeaks alert him that I have more to say.

“Speak.” He revs the engine, and despite his words, the tires spin, and he shoots out of the parking lot with purpose.

“You have to help me, don’t you?” I reach for the purse I left in the car earlier and pat the side. Relief spills through me when I feel the phone through the soft leather. I might not have magic right now, but it doesn’t mean I am without help. Mostly.

He doesn’t respond, and I can barely see him react through the shadows of his hoodie.

“You do.” I chuckle to myself, feeling a little smug. “A daemon is a spirit sent back to the land of the living.” I weave the story with a minor flare of fiction. “Bound to something, something you have to protect at all costs.”

“And you think you are special enough that you are that something?” His voice is completely monotone, devoid of emotion—an impressive accomplishment—yet the tightening of his hands on the steering wheel gives him away just enough to tell me my words are affecting him more than he is letting on.

“No,” I state simply. “I don’t.” From what I’ve learned, daemons protect people, places, and things of great importance. I’m not so self-righteous to believe that I mean that much.

This time, Jasper does glance over at me. “And?”

“And you have stated time and again that this is your territory. This city. This place. This dimension. And since I live here…” I trail off. “That makes me your responsibility.”

He doesn’t bother replying, which makes me feel a little smug. All he does is lean forward and flip on the radio that blares out grinding metal that I’m sure he believes is music. I don’t need his response as I look out the window and see the city passing us by in streaks of neon lights. The clock on the dash reads nearly two in the morning. We were in his warehouse for hours, though it felt like half that time.

Time sped up while I was sitting in the dark, which I can only be a little grateful for. For a while, I’m content to allow the silence to swell between us, but then it makes me itchy, and I have to fill it.

“So…” I begin, only to hear him groan. “What?”

“You are a witch.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You cannot allow the silence to just exist, can you?”

“Are you trying to tell me I talk too much?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.”

I’m not even offended. “Why do you always wear a hoodie?”

He repeats my question under his breath, the edges of his hoodie flapping as he looks at me and then back to the road. “I am unsavory.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No. My body.” There is something in his voice that didn’t exist there a moment ago, something off.

“Show me.”

“I don’t go around asking women to show me their pussies, so you shouldn’t go around asking daemons to show their skin,” he grumbles, letting me know I hit a nerve.

I am not nearly ready to let this go, but just as I’m about to open my mouth, Jasper pulls into a small parking lot across from an old office building. “Where are we?” I lean forward, glancing at the building through the windshield.

The front entrance is all glass, with two double glass doors leading inside. The discolored and chipped bricks scream of their age, and to the far left is another entry, which sits bare without the glass opulence.

I cast a side-eye at Jasper, who just sits there studying the building. His thumb disappears in his hoodie, and I imagine him plucking at his lips.

“This is a crime scene,” he mutters.

“A crime scene?” My eyes flick to my purse where my phone rests. “Should we call Nik?”

“Not yet.”

“That’s not very cooperative of you.”

“I need to get in there before the mortals spill their emotions all over the damn place,” he snaps at me.

“Are our emotions too much for the big, dangerous demon to handle?” I ask in an annoying baby voice.

His head jerks in my direction for a moment before he turns away. I hit a nerve again. Fun. “The only reason you are here is as a peacekeeper. Don’t make me take you back to the warehouse.”

“Is that how it’s going to be?” I snort. “You’re going to punish me by keeping me safe?” I spit the word.

“If I have to.” There’s amusement in his voice with an underlying thread of desire. I pretend I didn’t hear the latter, of course, because what the hell turned him on just now?

“That building looks haunted as fuck.”

“It probably is,” he mutters. “It used to be an old schoolhouse. Catholic, of course.”

“And you know this how?”

“It’s my job to know the history of every building in the city.” He opens his door, not bothering to wait for my reply. “Let’s go.” He slams the door and walks to the front of the car, his eyes still glued to the old school building.

Look, I don’t trust Jasper, but I don’t not trust him either. However, tying me up, injecting me with a magical truth serum, then leaving me in a warehouse with dead bodies is enough to have a girl running for the hills, so I am just going to page a little backup.

Swallowing, I reach down and grab my purse, and ever so slowly, I open it up and grab my phone. The light blares in the darkened interior, and I’m convinced it’s about to give me away. My heart thunders in my ears, and I unlock it and open up location sharing.

Thank you, technology.

I glance at Jasper, who’s still staring at the building, so I chance it and quickly share my location with Nik indefinitely. Feeling like a child who stole a cookie, I shove my phone into the bag and step out of the car with far more confidence than I’m feeling.

“Don’t punish me with your inability to follow directions.” He doesn’t look at me, just tacks on, “Let’s go.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. He thinks me taking forever to get out of the car was payback. Even luckier still is that he didn’t bother to look back at me.

I have the world’s shittiest poker face.

He surprises me by reaching back for my hand, and I easily slip mine into his. Too easily.

Swirling me around, he gathers me in his arms as we turn into shadows. Just like before, it’s disorienting and cold, so freaking cold, not to mention we are both still covered in blood. We are about to leak all over this crime scene. I’m not even sure Jasper realizes it. As one, we move through the freaking glass, which is the worst feeling I’ve ever felt in all of my damn life.

Once through, he releases me, and I stumble forward. My hand slaps against the wall as I struggle to steady myself. “Nope, can we never do that ever again?”

He flips his hoodie down, and I see an amused grin on his face. His dark hair sticks up all over the place, looking like some kind of badass. I tell him none of this, of course, with words, but by the amused glint in his eyes, I know he sees right through my façade.

“I hate it here.” I straighten up and glance at the hallway. The obnoxious, geometric patterns on the carpet make me feel disoriented and woozy, so I keep my eyes up, but it really doesn’t help much.

“It does have an odd feel to it.”

“An odd feel to it?” I squeak. “This place looks like it crawled out of The Shining. Any moment now, Jack Nicholson is going to slam through the wall with an ax.” I toss my hands up in the air. “An ax, Jasper.”

“You will survive.” He stumbles over his words, and a frown turns his lips down. “Probably.”

“I don’t want to be here.” I turn on a heel, and he catches me far too fast. My ass slams into his crotch, and for a moment, my breath stutters out before I regain control of this nonsense.

Is he aroused?

“Cameras,” he whispers in my ear and points to the front of the building.

“Dammit.” I look at the corners of the halls. “Nothing in here.”

“Nope.” He grabs my hand, leading me away from the front of the building and my freedom.

I hope Nikko knows how to get in here, or at least past the security camera and locked doors. “I swear if I round that corner and see twin girls covered in blood, I’m turning tail and running right out of here.” I groan, he probably doesn’t even know what movie I’m talking about. Uneducated swine.

Jasper doesn’t even laugh at my joke and instead counters, “Did you ever think that maybe we are intruding on them?” He hums as we ponder that little nugget of information.

“I refuse to accept that as fact.” My palms sweat as we creep up toward the end of the hall. This is the worst experience ever. I love haunted houses like the rest of the world.

Just not real haunted houses.

“There’s a running theory,” he whispers to me, and I know I will hate whatever he says next, “that we are the ghosts.”

I shake my head. “Nope.” I’m out.

“Good to know you have some self-preservation.” He laughs, the sound filling the hall as we round the corner.

I nearly keel over at the long, empty hall. My breath heaves out of me, and I bend over, placing my head below my knees as I take long breaths.

“This” —I feel the air distort as he waves his hands over my head— “coming from the girl who barely flinched when a shadow daemon snuck up on her in the middle of the night to steal her first kiss?”

“Okay.” I fling myself up and jab a finger into his chest. “I get it, I do, but this building,” I whisper conspiratorially to him, “feels fucking wrong.”

He tilts his head to the side, staring at me with those deep coal eyes. Something moves beneath his collar, drawing my eye, and that is when I understand his earlier words. The flesh of his neck ripples with dark shadows. Like long ethereal fingers, they flicker outward, wrapping up his neck before dipping far below.

My eyes jerk back up to his, and I thank the Fates that he’s still looking at me the same way he did before my eyes caught onto his shadows.

Is he covered like that? Do the shadows stretch over the skin of his entire body? He runs his thumb over his bottom lip in contemplation. Calluses and shadows cover his hands, and it looks like living tattoos stretch over every inch of his skin.

I want to test that theory and strip him. Just not right now.

“What do you feel?” he asks me, catching me completely off guard because I am far too busy staring at his hands. “Eyes up here, poppet.”

I roll my eyes at yet another nickname, but it jars me enough to reply to his question. “I don’t know. It feels wrong.”

He hums under his breath. “Bound magic, and yet you still feel the building.” He grunts, grips my hand, and then we are moving again. “Interesting.”

“I’m full of all kinds of weird, Jasper.” I snort as we slink down the hallway of the empty building. Well, empty except for the living dead creatures, that is.

“Not me.”

“What?”

He glances down at me, a wicked smile on his face. “You said you are full of all kinds of weird. I’m simply implying that you aren’t.”

I pause and blink up at him, registering his words. “You’re nasty.”

“You love it.”

“Besides the point here.”

“Come on.”

We pause at a break in the hall and turn toward— “Oh, hell no.” I turn to back up, jerking my hand out of his. My back slams against the opposite wall when I keep stepping back, and a whole-body shiver works over me.

“I thought you lived for the adrenaline rush,” he teases, but there’s something else he isn’t saying, and I don’t like it.

Observant asshole. “That.” I swallow. “Is a murder elevator.” I wave my hand at the damn thing that looks like a guy who wore wigs built it before the turn of the century. The last century. “There is soot all over the wallpaper.”

“Good, we are at the right one.” He turns around without me and presses his finger to the up arrow, which is no arrow, but just a round black circle where the arrow faded away. It is that old. “Coming?” He glances up at the ding indicating the elevator is moving between floors. How is it still working?

“Hell no,” I hiss.

“Suit yourself.”

“Jasper,” I say, a little panicked as the doors open and he steps in. “Don’t you dare leave me here.”

“Stay or go, it doesn’t matter much to me.” He reaches out, intent on closing the door, so I book it toward the elevator and fling myself in just as the doors close and the entire elevator jerks.

I stand on shaky legs, feeling goosebumps travel up my spine. “Nothing good is about to happen,” I whisper to him, earning his full attention. “I’m warning you right now, Jasper. Wherever we are, it isn’t good.”

I wrap my arms around my body, trying to chase off the chill that threatens to overtake me. I know this feeling, and it sits at the back of my head, waiting until it’s too late for me to decipher.

Something wicked this way comes, I think to myself.

The elevator jerks before the doors open with a whoosh, stirring the stale air. I follow Jasper out into the empty hall.

“What do you feel?” he asks me.

“Oh, now you want my input?”

“You aren’t sensing the danger with your magic,” he states, and dammit, that intrigues me. “You are sensing something else.”

“And I don’t suppose you know what that something is, do you?”

“No idea.”

I huff but step forward, my arms still wrapped around me. Ahead is a heavy wooden door with that textured glass that reminds me of old-school private eyes. To the right is a little plaque with the same glass as the name of a business I’ll forget as soon as I walk by. The hall stretches and wraps around the building to the right, with businesses zigzagging the entire way down.

That way feels safe, or as safe as this building can be.

“Third floor?” I question as I look left. When I got off the elevator, I didn’t see what floor we spilled onto, and I don’t know why it matters, just that it does.

“Yes.”

“That way.” I point.

“Interesting.” He grabs my hand and leads me down the hall lined once more with those geometric shapes that make me woozy.

“Are you going to tell me just what the hell this is?”

“No.”

“It’s related to the dead guy, isn’t it?” I snap my finger. “Teddy.”

Jasper just looks down at me, his features impassive.

“You know…” I gear up to throw some shade.

“No.” He pauses and presses a finger to my lips. “I don’t care.”

I have half a mind to bite his finger, but somehow, I repress my natural need to bite.

“We are here.” He reaches beyond me and opens a door.

I was doing so well with distracting myself, but no more. I can’t because I feel it as soon as the door creaks open. At first, it’s just a graze against my lower back, a touch so gentle I would almost consider it the equivalent to a caress from a lover.

I glance up at Jasper with wide, terrified eyes. “We need to leave,” I whisper, but he isn’t looking at me. He is staring behind me.

I’m not a scaredy cat, I live on adrenaline, but the past few days have taught me I like the adrenaline I can control.

This? This has no control. At least nothing that comes from me.

Another caress, and I freeze. My breathing stutters, and I reach out, gripping Jasper’s hoodie. The fabric sinks beneath my fingers, and a whimper spills out of me.

“Jasper,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

He still doesn’t look at me. It’s like… It’s like he isn’t there anymore.

I don’t want to let go, and I don’t want to look. The caress slithers up my spine, oh so slow, like ethereal fingertips.

I let go and slap Jasper across the face. Then, just as fast, I clench his hoodie again. “Jasper.” I can feel my panic building. Building. “Get me out of here,” I whisper, because he stole my magic. He bound me, leaving me defenseless.

Jasper finally breaks free, his eyes wide. “Run,” he tells me, slapping his hands over mine to release me.

I turn my head to the right just as the elevator dings, and when Nikko stumbles into the hall, I almost cry out in relief, except all that spills out is a whimper.

Nik’s eyes find mine, but unlike Jasper, he can’t school his features. “Pepper!” he screams, and it’s a terrible sound.

The caress grabs me, stealing my breath with cold, icy claws.

“Jasper,” I scream as I’m yanked out of his grasp and I fly backward.

The last thing I see are Jasper’s and Nikko’s horrified faces just before the door slams in their face.

Chapter 18

Pepper

That’s it. This is how I die. I’m done. Dead. Toast. Extra fucking crispy.

It’s all Jasper’s fault.

Every single nerve in my body flares to life as I slam down on solid ground. All the hair on my body stands up as if I stuck my finger in an electrical outlet. My skin and muscles feel supercharged and hum as though I am now a living part of that electrical wire.

My face rests on something sticky, and as I inhale, I gag. Swallowing the bile in my throat, I scramble up, my pulse hammering in my throat and my body vibrating.

Wherever I am, it’s nothing but darkness. The inky black wraps around me, and although the dark never scared me in the past, it does now. This darkness feels wrong, oh so wrong.

The past few days have taken the things that I love and are slowly trying to make me fear them. This moment is yet another one. I’ve always embraced the dark and enjoyed how it cocooned me in a safety I can’t describe.

Yet right now, kneeling in something that smells rotten, I fear the dark.

My neck tingles. It’s the kind of feeling one gets when they are being watched, studied, and observed.

Throat dry and eyes straining, I feel behind me. Nothing. Rolling backward, I slowly stand, my boots sticking to whatever I landed in—no, whatever something threw me in.

I swear when I finally make it home, I’m taking the longest, hottest shower known to man, and I am bringing in all of my toys, because I deserve multiple orgasms after this shit show. Hell, I deserve all the men. I wonder if I can rent a pack of lycans, have my dirty way with them, and send them packing.

Unfortunately, as soon as the thought pops into my head, all I can think about is a sexy cop and a devilish demon.

Both of which have no earned access to this juicy pussy.

I made a promise to my number one john, and I already anticipate that sexy call.

A creak has me spinning in the dark, yanking me out of my naughty thoughts. It’s a shame I can’t just sit here with my imagination until one of the guys saves me.

I’ve gone right from terrified to can’t change this, so I may as well crack jokes. It’s a level of terror that I rarely find myself in, not to mention all self-preservation has now gone out the window.

Another creak and the telltale groan of a door hinge has me turning in a complete one-eighty. With my hands outstretched, I take a tentative step forward. My left hand hits a doorframe, and my right seeks the opposite side.

This is how women die in horror movies.

Again, an overwhelming sense of ominous energy rises before me. My mama always told me to trust my gut. The problem is my moral compass has always been off, never leading me toward safety but tempting me with danger.

Many times in my past, I knew entering a situation was terrible and that nothing good would come of it, and what did I do? I jumped in headfirst, with the hope I could spin around and position myself to land on my feet.

Sometimes I did, other times I ended up with a concussion.

This is about to be one of those concussion moments.

I know I should back away, find the door I came in through, and run screaming and crying all the way home, where I’d lock myself somewhere safe and maybe become one of those people with agoraphobia. I could concentrate on my sex toy business and bring in extra cash by utilizing the immortal call line.

Everyone needs a little loving occasionally, and I haven’t had a moment with my favorite regular in a while.

Another creak.

“I swear to all the gods that exist, if I get out of this, I’m going balls to the wall with my regular.” As I step forward into the unknown, I send that promise out into the universe.

As soon as I pass through the threshold, everything changes.

The air is no longer full of the scent of death, instead becoming crisp and clean.

The warmth of the building fades away, and that charged feeling of electricity returns. My body vibrates and hums, and then a small light appears in the distance. Ever so slowly, it grows in size.

I know I’m still in the haunted building, so what the hell is this? A residual haunting? I spin around in a circle, ignoring the lightning bug-like light until I come full circle, and then it’s upon me. In a flash, everything changes.

I squint and blink against the light, and I find myself in an office. It has to be where my physical body is, and damn, this is disorienting.

Along the back wall are several windows. It’s beautiful actually, and if this were anywhere else, I would enjoy the old-world charm of the office space.

Another set of windows lines the left wall, and to the right are floor to ceiling bookshelves in old mahogany. When I focus on the titles, they blur together, though other things stand out, like the small figurine that sits on a shelf in front of nameless books. It’s nothing more than a head without features. Not because someone created it that way, but because its features wore away over the years. My eyes flit to another one. This one is smaller and thinner, with a double set of arms and large horns on its head.

I think I should know what I’m looking at, but I don’t.

Looking away, I focus on the large wooden desk in the middle of the room. Behind it is a fancy leather desk chair I would kill to have, and a part of me wants to rush over there and test just how well it cups my ass.

I don’t, though, because the door opens behind me.

Chills race up my spine and steal my breath. I quickly rush to the corner of the room and spin around, hoping that whatever happens, maybe I can… What, Pepper? Hide in a corner?

My eyes land on the man coming through the door. He appears inconsequential until I realize I might know him, or maybe he’s just familiar in a way where I don’t know him, but others like him.

Tall and gangly, he’s dressed in dark jeans and a dark shirt. A worn leather jacket hangs from his bony frame, mimicking his limp hair. His dark eyes seem to look right at me before they take in the rest of the room. A heavy beard hides the last of his features, including his mouth.

He turns, and that’s when I see I’m not alone in this room, only I can’t focus on the other person. He’s blurred out as though he himself redacted this very memory.

“Boss.” The man steps into the room, his hands in his pockets as he turns toward the other creature in the room with us.

That is what he is, a creature, and an immortal one if the hair standing up on my neck is anything to go by.

His reply remains muffled, but the young Cheech reaches behind his back and shuts the door that moves far too easily and crashes into the jam.

My eyes dart right back to the immortal, because he or she is what I need to watch.

Although I can’t see their features, and I can’t hear their voice, I feel them, and dammit, I wish I hadn’t.

Know how some people just have a vibe about them? One that is wrong and screams evil? This is how this immortal feels. They are wrong, as though the gods created them for the sole purpose of terrorizing the world.

Terror.

I press myself deeper into the corner at the realization.

Cheech distorts himself as though his soul peels away from his body and is superimposed. He turns toward me, making me feel seen, and mutters, “Watch,” before he snaps back into place like an overstretched rubber band.

I tremble as he turns to the immortal, their words nothing but a murmur.

“All shipments are out.” Cheech crosses his arms while waiting for the other man to say something. The conversation is one-sided, broken, and I commit every word to memory to dissect later.

Murmur.

The tall man nods, tapping his foot on the floor, then he goes still, and his eyes jerk up to the immortal. “You want—” He holds up his hands. “Okay, okay.”

Angry murmurs.

“I understand, sir.” He shakes his head again. “No, I don’t try our own product.”

More mumbles.

“You want me to… to…” His forehead wrinkles, and he reaches out to grab a packet—one that looks all too familiar. “Dose myself?” he finishes, but I can tell he disagrees, and whatever the other guy is asking isn’t something he wants to do.

I don’t blame him.

The angry murmurs get louder, and for a moment, I can almost make them out. Defy.

“No, sir, I just won’t take it. I’m sorry.” The guy tosses the packet on the desk before he continues. “I’ll do anything else you tell me to do. You know that, sir. I just won’t take drugs.”

A heavy silence fills the room, swelling, swelling, swelling…

The man spins in a circle, and a whimper slips from his lips, then… he claws at his face, tearing and ripping at the flesh of his skin. His fingernails dig in, leaving long gashes that bleed and drip down his body.

My hand flies to my lips, and I squish myself farther into the corner as I struggle not to say anything. This is a residual haunting, his haunting, and he wants me to see what happened here.

Evil happened here. This building. This immortal. It all stems from him. He remains a blurred nothing in the opposite corner while this man, who I suspect is a drug runner, pulls out a knife and scores his skin.

He’s mutilating his own body, and I know without a shadow of a doubt he’s doing this because of the immortal in the corner. Somehow, he is causing him to scratch, cut, and maim himself.

I hate myself because it is both macabre and fascinating all at once. I can’t describe it, and I am not entirely sure I want to without committing myself to a psych ward. Although a large part of me wishes to step forward, grab his hands, and soothe him, I know I can’t.

This moment doesn’t exist anymore. It’s a faded memory that feels as real as the breath I exhale. Even so, I take a tentative step forward just as he impales himself on his knife. The blade sinks into the flesh of his stomach once, twice, again and again. Each time the squish of the blade becomes a core memory I will never forget, and one I wish to forget just as quickly.

All my life, I grew up thinking that the evil in the world settled in the souls of rapists and murderers—mortals who sought to enact atrocities that gave them a sick sense of pleasure for a motive that most kept unto themselves. For humans, evil is a realm of black and white, with no deviation, and we are led to believe that those we perceive to be superior to us have the ability to abolish all sins. No one, however, can forgive the sins of the vile creature forcing another to do his bidding like a puppet. This evil exists unto itself, so there is no comparing it to another. It is sentient, living and breathing with each singular action.

As I stand in a room while a memory rises and falls around me, I know that nothing in the mortal world could ever compare to the macabre beauty of pure evil.

Why beauty? Because it is the combination of energy in this raw form, the aesthetic of death, and the screams that fill the air that swell around the dying that make it beautiful. The life that flutters before me will forever live within my memory, becoming immortal.

Death is distinctly different than the act of a murder orchestrated by a puppeteer.

I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth as the man gasps his last breath, and I watch as his soul rips from his mortal body and turns to me.

In death, he is beautiful, no longer feeling the pain he felt but a moment ago. He takes a step toward me as his body thuds to the floor. His hand rises, and a finger presses against his unseen lips, and just like that, he flickers away.

I hold my breath naively, thinking that’s it, that the sight will fall away and the moment will end.

Not quite.

The shadows swell and pulse as the sound of blood drips from the dead. My eyes go to the immortal in the corner, and I hold my breath as he steps away. His body remains blurred as he crouches before the dead man and reaches out.

The residual haunting isn’t over yet.

His body jerks as though the immortal seeks to reanimate it, but… that can’t be right. No. I shake my head because the last thing I want to assume is that freaking zombies are real.

I draw the line there.

He isn’t creating a zombie, he’s pulling something from the dead. Small tendrils of glittering black thread float from one man to the other until the only sound is silence.

The immortal unfolds himself, rising to his full height.

I press back into the wall as he stands nearly seven feet tall and is nothing more than a blur. My skin itches, and my legs twitch, telling me to run. Run. Run.

He can’t see me. This isn’t real.

I repeat those words in my head, willing them to be true. That’s when he distorts and flickers into a real human with sharp, defined features and soulless black eyes that appear as though no emotion exists in those depths. Nothing.

Then again, he is a blur, and I’m thankful for that, yet he sees me. Every nerve in my body comes alive with his watchful gaze.

He jerks and moves forward, blipping in and out of reality until he’s standing before me.

My chest pinches with pain as my heart forgets how to work when he looms over me. Shivers rack my body and my teeth chatter.

“What—” I choke on my words as fear squeezes my vocal cords.

“You.” The sound is like metal on metal, and I cringe. My palms slap over my ears, and I close my eyes and count.

Ten. I imagine him gone. Gone.

Nine. I feel his breath on my skin.

Eight. His eyes see through me like lasers.

Seven should be my lucky number, so I peek my eyes open and find the creature still there.

Six. Six. Six. I’d take the devil I know over the one I don’t.

Five seconds until I scream.

Four. Just leave me in peace.

Three. Two more until I scream.

“Pepper!” Nik shouts my name.

One. I feel terror all over again.

My eyes open, and the immortal wavers and disappears. My heart beats all over again. Breathe. I gulp in breath after putrid breath. Tears burn behind my eyes, and a whimper escapes me as Nik rushes through the office, finding me still hiding in the corner.

“Conejita.” He doesn’t hesitate as he reaches for me and gathers me in his arms, drawing me firmly against his chest. His heart beats erratically against my ear as my head rests on his shoulders, and I turn toward the door where Jasper stands, his dark eyes peering through the room almost as though he can see what I saw.

I grip Nik like the lifeline he is, and I don’t let go, not even when I hear small voices raise in anger in his pocket.

“Nikko.” My voice shakes as I say his name, but I don’t move away, I stay right where I am clutched to his body.

“My little bunny.” His lips press against my hair, and for a moment, I still and absorb every drop of affection he’s dosing me with.

“There are little men in your pocket,” I whisper, watching as Jasper crouches to the ground.

“Fuck!” He pulls away, dragging me with him for a moment before I reluctantly let him go, only to press myself into the corner and wrap my arms around myself. “Donovan.”

I bite my tongue and stop myself from groaning, realizing he must have called the twins to get that door open. He’s two for two here.

“I’ve got her.” Nik’s eyes flick up to mine. “Yeah, hang on.” He hands the phone to me. A sharp pinch in my chest tells me I’m on the verge of a panic attack. “He wants to talk to you.”

Oh yeah, there it is. My vision swims, and black dots dance along the edges of it. I say nothing to Nik, even as he shoves the phone in my hand and I shakily bring it to my ear.

I say nothing because that sharp pinch in my chest threatens to take me under.

“Freckles.” Donovan’s warm voice spills over the line, causing a slight sound to spill from my lips that reminds me suspiciously of a wounded animal. It draws a dark look from Jasper, which I promptly ignore.

I’m big mad at him. Big. Mad.

“Donny,” I say, and I sound like utter shit. I need to get out of this room. I want to run out of this building and watch it burn while I roast marshmallows and dance in the ashes. Naked.

His sigh gusts over the line. “Freckles.”

I know he’s about to say more, so I cut him off. “I’m okay.”

“Look, I need you to see my girl, Ali,” he says, and dammit, I make another wounded animal sound. “She’s going to tattoo you.”

“Now isn’t the best time for a tattoo, Donny,” I snark at him, feeling something other than terror course through my system. I latch onto the emotion for all I’m worth.

“Give me the damn phone.” Connor snatches the phone from his brother. “She’s going to tattoo you with protection sigils.”

Jasper’s head jerks up, and judging by the sneer on his face, I know he heard Connor. Before I can reply, he snatches the phone and barks into it. “That’s the stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.” Pause. “It’s a terrible idea to put druid sigils on a witch, you imbecile. You should know—” Jasper turns his head toward me.

Nik curses.

I can’t find it in me to even care right now. Beyond the two of them, the room is as he left it, rotting and full of blood splatters. The body? Yeah, it’s still on the floor.

Ignoring everyone and everything, I rush from the room. I don’t care if the twins know who I am anymore. Lying to them seems so trivial now. I have more significant issues to worry about at the moment.

I’m pretty sure that immortal, whatever he is, knows of my existence, and I’m out of magic.

Bile rises, and this time, there is no holding it back as I rush into the dark bathroom and barely make it to the toilet before I vomit for the second time that night.

I slump to the icy floor and finish heaving. My cheek rests against the cold porcelain, and my body trembles.

Shock.

The door creaks open, and I know it’s Nikko just from the gentleness of the door opening. The stall squeaks, and without turning the light on, he sinks to the floor behind me. His arms wrap around my body, and he tugs me close, hugging me from behind.

I sink into his arms, feeling safe for the first time today, even as my body shakes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, Pepper. Believe me when I say I never wanted this for you.”

“I didn’t want this for me either,” I whisper to him in the darkness, feeling my life twisting and turning before me, warping into a fate I cannot control.

“Tell me what you need, Conejita.”

“Home, I just want to go home,” I whisper, though going back means dealing with an orgasm drunk pixie, and I don’t want to steal that from her. “Can you take me to the garage?”

I need to go back to the start. I need to dig up the ghosts of my ancestors to understand why I suddenly find myself in the middle of something I can’t define and something so dark I can’t even call my family for help. I’ll keep this evil from them for as long as I can. I won’t allow this kind of darkness to cast a shadow over their lives. Silently, I make that promise to myself, even if it means lying to them.

I can feel Nik wince behind me, and I sigh. “Called in backup, didn’t you?”

“We have about twenty minutes before they show up,” he replies. “Tell me what you want me to do, Pepper. I don’t know how to help you.”

That’s the crux of the issue. I don’t know how to help myself either, but I won’t just leave him with a messy crime scene to deal with alone. “Who?”

“Just the immortal unit.” He presses his forehead between my shoulder blades.

“I’m not ready,” I admit, because the last thing I want is to hash out what I just saw.

I hear him swallow, and then he presses a kiss to my neck. My eyes close, and I latch onto that touch like a goddamn lifeline. “Then I wait with you until you are.”

“I also don’t want to think.” If I think, then I will remember, and so much has happened in just one night that it will take me a long time to decipher my feelings.

I could take all the emotions racing through me, pack them in a little box, and toss them into a lake, never to see or hear from them again, but I don’t. I know what the dead showed me earlier is essential.

The door slams open, announcing Jasper’s arrival. “I don’t like the druids.”

Nik chuckles behind me. “They are the smartest men I know.”

“Not men, druids.” I can hear the disdain in Jasper’s voice. “They aren’t happy with you, little witch.”

“I don’t care,” I say, and dammit, it’s true. I can’t find it in me to give any fucks. “Come on.” I push back into Nik’s arms, where he tightens them around me. “I just need to end this night.”

Nik presses a kiss to my hairline. He treats me as though I’m worth the world, as though I am priceless. He drags me up, keeping his hold on me until I’m settled on my own two feet. “I promise it won’t be long.”

“He’s lying, it will take hours.” Jasper pulls me out of Nik’s arms. “She’s done. I’ll leave you an address.” Then we are gone, despite Nik saving us and shouting about paperwork. Honestly, I’m grateful.

I’m exhausted, but I’m not ready to sleep. I know the nightmare will be there, waiting for me when I close my eyes.

Chapter 19

Pepper

My skin survives yet another minute of boiling hot water I use to blast away blood, grit, grim, and who knows what else. Pink and red blotches burst like stars over my pale flesh, and all my freckles now look like abrasions. My legs wobble because exhaustion is hitting me hard, but I’m not ready to close my eyes.

I almost hate myself for feeling fear. I feel like I failed myself, like I should know how to handle anything fate throws my way.

I don’t, which only makes me feel like even more of a failure. Logically, I know that what I’m feeling is a natural reaction and that it’s okay, but all I can do, all I have done, is spend the last hour reviewing the entire night in my head.

Normally I’d call a powwow with the girls, pick up some margarita mix and tomato pie, and probably order some fried chicken and doughnuts, then we would gather in the living room, grab some air mattresses, which would cover the floor, and throw on some movies for background noise.

We’d argue over what to watch—rom-com, horror, or suspense. Except looking back over the years, the irony of our eventual choices says a lot. Action movies with enough blood and gore that would leave most squeamish played on repeat while we giggled over nothing and everything. I want to call them up and demand they come to the house, but I can’t do that to them.

Jasper brought me here, to his place, but I can’t think about or what it means yet, because he has a lot to own up to, and I need a mental time out.

I need comfort food and a moment not to think about things while my subconscious works it all out for me.

He knows I exist.

My eyes close, and I turn into the spray, letting the water pelt my face as I debate washing my hair for the fourth time, but the third time’s the charm, and I don’t want to risk fate and destroy my hair.

I’ve done enough of that lately.

Without allowing myself a moment to overthink, I shut the water off. I’m clean, damn near scrubbed raw, and the only blood on me is the blood that exists in my imagination.

Jasper’s home isn’t at all what I thought it would be. In fact, I expected him to have a house hidden deep in the woods where he conducts nefarious spells and blood sacrifices.

That isn’t where I am.

We’re close to the water in a new townhouse. Everything is clean and crisp and decorated in typical bachelor pad colors—deep grays, blues, and whites.

The standing shower is a mixture of the three shades with tiles and river rock, and it’s primarily why I didn’t want to get out.

I also want to ignore the world and pretend it doesn’t exist.

My skin prickles with the awareness of the rising sun. The sky remains dark as dawn approaches minute by minute.

Thick, microfiber towels hang from a bar, and I snatch one up, wrapping myself in the fabric. My old clothing sits in a trash can, the stained material unsavable, and it leaves a pang of longing in my chest. I loved that outfit.

I brush the loss aside and step out into the bedroom that Jasper ushered me into. Though much of the space is modern, some of it also has that old-world charm I associate with Jasper. The bed sits low to the floor and deep, rich colors of gray and blue decorate the space. A bamboo plant sits on a ledge set into the wall, lit up by small LED lights, while to the right is nothing more than a simple black end table. It’s basic yet beautiful and simplistic.

Jasper left me sweats and a T-shirt on the bed. Since our date destroyed all my clothes, I’m thankful for his offer. There are no panties, though, so I have to go commando.

Dropping the towel, I shove my damp legs into women’s sweats, which I will not get angry over. I won’t. I won’t do it.

Dammit, who did he have over who left clothing here? Also, why do I care? I don’t. The demon practically tortured me tonight, stole my magic, then let some dead guy drag me into a haunted office where a creepy immortal popped in to say hello.

If there was any time in my life when I needed therapy, now would be it.

Dragging the shirt over my head, I shake out my short hair and turn toward the closed door. Jasper continues to surprise and impress me. He usually ruins it in a big way, though, like zip tying me to a chair.

I am one confused witch.

Hunger pangs make my stomach coil and tighten. Knowing I need to feed the beast before I get hangry, I head out into the small hall and make my way downstairs. The townhouse is four stories and worth more than my home, the bar, and the garage combined.

As soon as my foot lands on the hardwood floor, the scent of something fucking incredible wafts to me. My hunger drives me to the kitchen, where Jasper stands over the stove, shirtless.

My legs refuse to move any farther until I take all of him in. Fresh from the shower, his hair is an inky mess that drips down his bare back, and what a back it is. I’ve never seen Jasper in anything other than his hoodie, so seeing him in the kitchen wearing only low-slung jeans, my mouth dries up, and my body…

Well, it is appreciating every delicious line and dimple this man possesses.

His broad shoulders constrict with muscle that he hid from me under all those hoodies. Earlier, I caught a small sample of what he shrouded under all that fabric, but now I get the full dose.

Shadows swirl under his skin. At least, I think they are shadows. They are black swirls that don’t just sit under his skin but writhe and coil around his torso like a lover. They reach up and lick at his neck, and then settle for mere seconds before pulsating and moving all over again. Jasper is the embodiment of the devil.

My eyes drag over his flesh until I realize that this demon knew what he was doing, keeping one button undone and giving me a glimpse of a trail of hair I want nothing more than to trace with my fingertips.

He tied you up, I argue with myself.

He can do it again. Oh, I am screwed. Not yet, my brain supplies.

Swallowing my desire, I step into the kitchen and sit on the island. “What did you make?”

With a devious curve to his lips, he finishes whatever he is doing before he ultimately faces me and places a bowl before me. “Ramen.”

“Like from the packet?” I damn well know it is not that one dollar shit I lived on for years. It’s something so fancy my brain cannot wrap around it. I yank the bowl toward me and snatch the fork from his hand, all thoughts of the sexy beast before me forgotten, and my stomach prepares for this deliciousness.

Noodles sit in a delicious beef broth, while slices of steak and a soft-boiled egg sit on top. It smells like heaven in a bowl, created by the devil himself.

“Huh.” He leans against the counter on the other side of me. His hair falls into his eyes, and he swirls his own fork through his food.

I slurp up my noodles and the beef like it’s my last meal on earth and moan in pleasure. “So good,” I murmur. “So, so good.”

“If I covered myself in ramen, would you look at me like that too?” Jasper slurps his noodles, drawing attention to his pouty lips.

“You don’t have an off switch, do you?” I know the answer to my question, so I go back to attacking my food with a vengeance. His chuckle wraps around me like a hug that I want and also ignore.

We spend the next few minutes eating in silence, and I watch him occasionally as he cuts up his egg. I follow suit because I don’t want to eat this wrong and miss out on any tastiness. Far too soon, I’m out of food, and though I could eat another bowl or two, I refrain from asking.

I can’t even remember the last time I ate, and the last thing I want to do is waste a good meal by throwing it up.

“So…” I pick up my bowl and head over to wash the dishes.

“So…” Unlike me, he leans against the counter, picking at his food.

“Not what I expected,” I comment as I look away from him and clean up his mess. I shake my head at the disgrace he left on the counter. Sure, it’s his home, but it would be much easier if he cleaned as he went. Spices litter the counter and will just have to stay there until he puts them away, because I don’t know where they go. I can handle dishes, but not much else. “I assumed you lived in a cave.”

“Not anymore,” he replies, and I grasp onto that insight and commit it to memory.

“That implies you lived in a cave.” Amused, I side-eye him as he walks around me to hop on the counter, rolling spice containers backwards until they settle.

“I did.” He spears a little beef cube and chews thoughtfully, watching me as I work. “Long ago, I lived as the blade to many, many emperors.”

I hold my breath, because this is better than a movie night with drinks and popcorn, and that is a source of excitement I am not willing to overthink.

“Who?” I ask because I’m so curious I might die.

“I said many,” he hedges. “Some cruel, some kind. All existed with a corrupt mindset that more power would gift them something in this life that would continue into the next.” His dark eyes glance over at me as he leans against his cabinets. “I know how you felt tonight because fear was once my constant companion.”

His gaze pierces through me, ripping away my skin, muscle, and tissue with such ease that all I can do is look away at the intensity of it. “I don’t like it,” I whisper.

“Fear reminds us of mortality,” he argues. “Without fear, you forget how to live.”

“Did you?” I look up at him. “Forget how to live?”

“Yes.” His soft reply sends a shiver through my body. “After death, I awoke as something else. I awoke as the creature others feared. It was a cycle I didn’t want any part of, and I repressed who I had become.”

“That didn’t go well, did it?” I try to hold back my snark, but it flies out of me anyway.

Jasper smiles in that devil-may-care, panty melting way of his. Good thing I’ve gone commando.

“No, the repression threw me into who I am today. Now I embrace what I am, who I am, and I won’t forget the past or my actions, but I won’t dwell on them either.”

I nod in understanding. “Allow it to shape me, got it.”

Jasper reaches out, pinches my chin, and moves my head so I’m forced to look up at him until I see only him. “Allow it to burn into the fuel you need to keep moving.”

I jerk my head away. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Our date hasn’t ended,” he counters.

I flick soap bubbles at him in retaliation. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m a daemon, Pepper. Expect it of me.” He sets his empty bowl aside. “I have a mentor for you.”

Nerves flutter in my stomach. “Oh…” I say so much in that paltry word. I blame him for being in that situation. Being stranded without magic isn’t something I wish to experience ever again, and a part of me hoped he would instantly revoke our binding. I hoped he would feel guilty.

I should have expected he wouldn’t.

“He is… like me.”

“Another daemon?” I finish cleaning the last of his mess and rinse the pan before setting it on the drying rack. “Don’t you think another witch would help me understand my magic better?”

“Until we have your ancestral grimoire, that isn’t an option.” He pauses as though he’s about to say more, only he doesn’t.

Caving, I say, “Spill it.”

“I don’t know what magic you wield. He will help with that,” Jasper says cautiously.

“How?” I cross my arms and face Jasper because he’s hiding something vital here.

“You will see, but we have to go to him.” He’s watching me as though this is going to upset me. It won’t, so I just raise a brow. “In another realm.”

I nod. “And there it is.” I drum my fingers along the marble and ignore how he smiles at me. “When?”

“When you wake up tonight.” His eyes close, and he tilts his head up, exposing his Adam’s apple and the contour of his throat. “You’ll be safe there.”

“From you?”

He peers at me from beneath his lashes. “From me.”

I push away from the sink, leaving the dishes to dry, and away from Jasper, who watches me with a pang of hunger he hasn’t earned. “Good night, Jasper.” Through the windows, I watch as the sky lightens, casting the shadows of the night away and leaving hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to fall asleep.

I know what I’m doing—at least at this moment, I think I know—and although Jasper hasn’t said a damn thing to me, he knows I’m running from him and the darkness inside of him that calls to the darkness that lives inside of me. He makes me feel as though I can’t breathe, and a part of me craves that very emotion.

The soft carpet squishes between my toes as I scramble back to the bedroom and lock the door. Two windows line the wall, lightening the space, yet I glare at them. Normally I sleep in the dark, and I wonder if sleep will even claim me this morning.

As I pull back the covers and the quiet of the house pulses all around me, I crawl beneath the buttery soft sheets. The lights are low but on, and they will remain on.

The soft mattress cradles me, and I burrow under the pillow and close my eyes. Darkness settles there, yet a gleam of light reminds me it’s now day. That it’s okay. That I’m okay.

An exhale spills from my lips, and sleep tugs at me, calling my name. That’s all it takes for me to settle into that twilight period, between awake and asleep.

The memory of the office springs right back up in my mind as well as the immortal who can kill with a simple thought.

My eyes fling open, and I sit up in the comfortable bed. No way is this going to work. Either I embrace the hallucinations that come along with not sleeping or…

Or I crawl out of bed and find Jasper.

I’m at the door before I can think better of it, my hand resting on the handle. “This is ridiculous.” I grip the handle as though hate flows from my soul, and then I fling the door open and creep upstairs to where Jasper said his room was.

That hall is dark, painted a deep blue shade. Swallowing my nerves, I push on until I breach his landing and turn toward his bedroom.

Jasper sits on the edge of his bed, wearing nothing more than black sweats. His head lifts to look at me, and I see a question in his eyes.

Licking my lips, I force myself to admit why I’m there, standing on the threshold of his bedroom. “I can’t sleep.”

A nod—that’s all he gives before he stands and throws the bedding back to reveal golden silk pillows on an inviting bed. I rush forward, feeling like a child again. I only crawled into bed with one of my cousins when I couldn’t sleep. Grandma’s house is old, and I swear ghosts haunt the halls.

His sheets are the same buttery soft fabric as mine were, only… he’s in here with me. I’m not even nervous. I’m just tired. So damn tired.

The lights go out, and like downstairs, I burrow into the pillow and close my eyes. The bed dips and Jasper rolls toward me. One hot palm lands on my hip and drags me back against his torso.

Well, now I’m wide awake and thinking of things. Hot, sweaty, orgasm things.

“Sleep.” Jasper’s breath blows over my neck, and his lips settle against the tender flesh just below my hairline.

“Do you think it’s smart?” I question him in the darkened room. Heavy, blackout curtains cover the windows, but I know the sun is up. I can feel it.

His sigh tickles the short hair on my nape before he replies, “Do I think what is smart?”

“Sending me to this daemon to learn magic.”

“This isn’t college, Pepper, nor an academy across the sea.” He presses another kiss to my neck, sending a shiver racing through me. “This is to understand yourself. It is to understand what power you wield to best become the witch fate planned for you to be.”

I hum, not convinced at all. “And what about…” I trail off as a shiver dances over my skin. “Him.”

“I told you I didn’t see anyone,” he says again for the third time. On the way home, I shared every single detail. I made sure Nik was on speed dial so I wouldn’t have to repeat myself later. Nikko remained quiet the entire time, only speaking up to say he’d find us when he finished at the office building.

“He was there,” I reiterate.

“I believe you.” This time he doesn’t kiss my nape, but he licks it. “You need to rest.”

“I can’t,” I say, trying to close my eyes.

Grunting, Jasper shoves one thick thigh between my legs.

“Jasper.” My eyes fling open. One hand clenches the sheets in front of me while the other reaches back and grips the fabric of his pants.

“You need to sleep, and if you can’t fall asleep on your own…” He trails off, leaving the insinuation in the air between us.

“You’ll what?” Don’t do it, Pepper, don’t. My voice is already all kinds of breathy and sexy, and he can scent my arousal in the air. “Orgasm me right to sleep?”

I did it.

His chuckle vibrates against my back. “I’d rather fuck you to sleep, but I feel like you are going to make me earn my way into your pussy.” His hand snakes around until his fingers fiddle with the strings of my sweatpants.

This reminds me… “Why do you have women’s sweats?”

That must be the wrong or right thing to say, because Jasper flips me onto my back, and he’s hovering over me, all dark eyes and mischief. “You’re jealous.”

“Nope,” I lie.

Ever so slowly, Jasper works his hand under my shirt, his palm splayed against my ribs. “You’re jealous, Pepper.”

I’m panting like the bitch in heat I am. “No.” His thumb swirls against my skin, so dangerously close to my breast. “I’m marking them now. They are mine.”

His laugh rolls over me, making my nipples pebble. “Are you wet for me, kitten?”

“Just alluded to that.”

His hand cups the bottom of my breast, and that thumb of his gently brushes my nipple. My chest rises with a deep breath, and my eyes focus on his, refusing to look away even though he’s making my damn toes curl.

“So responsive,” he murmurs before pinching my nipple. Lilith created the noise that comes pouring out of me. “So fucking sensitive.” He twists my nipple slowly but does not let up.

My body arches off the bed, and I press the rest of my body into his. My legs rub against each other, demanding that sweet friction.

“I can make you come like this, Pepper.” He leans down, licking my neck before nipping my ear. “But that isn’t what you want, is it?”

“No.” I grip his biceps, trying to move my legs out from under him.

I don’t want to think about what I’m doing, and I don’t want to second-guess his touch, but because it feels so right, I know it is damn well wrong.

I’m about to beg him, and the smug bastard knows it.

“I still want to cut you open and see what makes you tick, Pepper.” He moans into my ear and pinches my nipple even harder. The sting makes me release a scream of need.

I’m a goner. My nails dig into his flesh. I don’t even care that he just threatened to gut me, just as long as I get to come first.

Laughing, he nips my neck, bruising my flesh. “I’m not a soft man, Pepper.” To punctuate his point, he bites my neck harder, marking me.

“I know.” My nails score his back, and I savor his hiss of pleasure.

“I’m the man who will fuck you while holding a knife to your throat,” he warns. “Not yet, but soon. I promise you that.”

Why does that send arousal straight to my clit? “I think…” I clutch his arms. “You’re all fucking talk.”

Not giving into my taunts, he leans down, moving his other hand to my neglected nipple, and without easing into it, he pinches me hard.

I hiss out a breath, my body trembling from his touch.

His lips close around my bruised nipple, and I whimper.

“Do you want to come like this, Pepper?” he asks me, dragging his tongue across the sensitive flesh.

One nipple was almost too much.

Two, and I’m wrecked. I can’t answer him, not like this.

“Answer me, kitten,” he demands, leaning up and removing his hands.

My eyes fly open. He hovers over me like the demon he is, all darkness and sharp lines.

“Touch me, Jasper.”

“Where?” His thumbs dip below the waistband of my pants and then he grips them, ready to toss them to the side.

“Touch my clit, Jasper.”

He rumbles in approval and rips my pants from my body. His hands grip my shins, pressing them back until I’m spread wide for his dark eyes. I grip the sheets, and all he does is stare at me.

“Touch your nipples.” His dark eyes dart up to mine, desire swelling in his gaze. My cunt clenches, demanding he fill me with that erection he’s packing behind the fabric of his sweats.

I cup my breasts, my fingers mimicking how he teased me earlier. His little smile holds secrets I’m not sure I ever want to uncover.

Setting my legs to the sides, he leans over me so that when he speaks, his breath teases the hairless skin of my pussy lips. “I’m going to taste you until I’m full of your juices, Pepper.”

I pinch my nipples harder at his words.

“Then I’m going to make you come until the only thoughts in your head are my touch and the pleasure I give you.” His lips press against my clit, and he devours me like a starving demon.

There’s no buildup, no moment of hesitation on his part or with my body. I detonate with that slight touch and how he sucks my clit into his mouth.

True to his word, he doesn’t stop until all I can think about is him, and all I want is him.

With his moans and grunts of pleasure, I can pretend he wants me too.

Chapter 20

Donovan

Hours Earlier

“Pest.” I burrow deeper into the fluffy pillows, squishing another between my legs as the dredges of sleep demand that I surface to destroy the bug buzzing about my head. “Be gone.”

I had the most delicious dream and want nothing more than to return to the land of imaginings where a curvy, freckled face thorn in my ass resides—a sexy pain in my ass that I haven’t seen in two years.

I’m just about to dive right back where I want to be, between thick thighs threatening to suffocate me, when my bedroom door slams open and jerks me right out of that blissful dream.

“Dammit, Connor,” I scold my brother without even seeing his scowling face. He is the only one who would dare to barge in here like that.

No one else would dare enter my rooms, not even her.

“Wake,” he growls at me. “There’s a problem.”

“There is no problem that deserves this kind of alarm,” I grumble at him and roll over.

The sheet snaps free of my body, allowing the cold air to ghost over my bare skin. Knowing my brother, I immediately roll off the bed just as the sheet snaps against the mattress right where my ass was mere moments ago.

“The fuck, Connor?” I stare over the bed to glare at my brother in the darkened room. My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, helped by the moonlight shining in through the window.

“I said there was a problem,” he snarls at me before throwing his phone on the bed. “Tell him what you just told me,” Connor demands, and at first, in my sleepy mind, I think he’s talking to me—until Nikko’s voice fills the air.

“We cannot get her!”

I still as panic slithers inside me, becoming a living entity. “Nik?” I ask while simultaneously reaching behind me for my discarded sweats. Fear wakes me thoroughly, and I struggle to get both legs into their separate holes. “Nik, what’s happening?”

Please don’t say her name. Please.

“Pepper.” Cursing fills the air, and I take a minute to realize it’s mine. “I don’t know what it was. I don’t—”

“Shut the fuck up,” another voice scolds Nik.

My eyes dart to Connor, who quietly shuts my bedroom door. His eyes linger on the wood, seeing through it. I know he’s watching for Maribeth. Neither of us wants to wake her, not after the long night we just spent attending dinner with our families. We all need at least three days of rest to recover from that shit show.

“Now, druids.” The voice is condescending, unforgiving, and cold. “Unless you know how to open a magically locked door, your friend here made an unnecessary call.”

“It was unnecessary to hit me,” Nikko says, sticking up for himself. “But it was necessary to call them.”

“You need to learn how to think before you act,” the other voice says.

“Not everyone is a cold daemon,” Nikko yells at the other man.

A sigh rushes out, and my nerves slowly fry, listening to the two of them argue. “Enough,” I growl.

“Explain,” Connor adds.

“Well, my kitten got snatched into a room,” the voice says with cold calculation. “Said room locked us out.”

“Who are you?” Connor seethes.

“Ah, yes, let’s waste time on pleasantries, shall we?” A pause. “Jasper.”

“Jasper, do you mind telling me why our girl is in a locked room?” Connor demands, and the moment the words are out of his mouth, I know they are about to become an issue.

He just laid claim to a woman we have no business claiming. I hang my head, waiting for the shit storm to lift us up and take off with us.

I don’t have to wait long before laughter spills through the speaker. “Adorable. You’re a waste of my breath.”

“Jasper!” Nikko yells, and static crackles over the line. “Guys, please. From what I saw, a black entity grabbed her and yanked her inside this room.”

I glance at my twin and mouth, “What the hell?” The question burns in his eyes. I know what he’s wondering because it is the same damn thing rolling through my head.

What did Pepper get into this time? How one little mortal can get into so much trouble is beyond me, yet my lips quirk up into a smile at the thought. She’s such a fighter.

I miss her.

“Dark magic,” Jasper cuts in. “Not just dark, but haunted.”

Connor’s eyes bore into mine before he takes off toward my desk, grabbing a pencil and a pad of paper. He’s shirtless, so his tattoos ripple across his skin. The inky black lights up and then fades in the darkened room.

“Jasper.” Connor’s voice is just as stern as the daemon’s. “I’m sending Nik sigils with Don’s phone.”

I remain frozen as he grabs my phone and takes a picture in the dark. The camera flash pierces my eyes and shocks me enough to move off the damn floor. A ping sounds through the line moments later.

“Got it!” Nik shouts.

“Blood or ink?” Jasper asks, making me wonder just who Pepper got herself involved with.

The itch to run home and be her white knight burns in my veins. If only it were that easy.

“Blood,” Connor says hesitantly. Depending on the caster, ink would be powerful enough, but blood from a daemon would annihilate anything keeping Pepper trapped.

“Stand back,” Jasper demands, and I hear scuffling.

I close my eyes and lock my legs. Uncontrollable nerves spill out from my belly to every limb as I hold my breath, waiting for this unknown daemon to give me news about the girl that haunts my dreams.

The one we had to let go of. I can’t even call her the one who got away because she isn’t. She is the one we had to leave, and in turn, we broke her heart.

Some ties bind druids—land, nature, or familial. Ours are all three.

As young lads, our parents gave us freedom to explore the world and go where nature called us. Imagine their surprise when we ended up in Philadelphia. While it wasn’t surprising that we traveled, since our kind can be nomadic, it was the city that unnerved them.

A city with no connection to nature.

It called to us though. The small patches of green amongst concrete giants, the trees that broke through the cracks in the pavement, and the herbs that grew almost randomly wept for our touch.

It was as though Philadelphia had become the home we sought all those years, and then she crashed her bike because of a tree root we’d been nurturing.

It wasn’t love at first sight, since Pepper was far too young for that, but I knew she was something to us. I just didn’t know what.

Unfortunately, even though Philadelphia became our home and thus our duty, our familial ties demanded our presence, as did the betrothal our parents set for us eons ago.

Maribeth sleeps in the hall across from this very room and lives in this home that we built, but she is not our fated. She will never hold that title. That title belongs to Pepper and Pepper alone. We have begged our parents to understand and acknowledge it, but they refused.

Nothing can break the promise we made to our family, a binding we have no control over, except for one thing—our fated mate. However, Pepper is mortal, but if she were anything more, her magic could break our betrothal.

I still see the hurt on her face, the betrayal the moment we walked away. Her emotions haunt my dreams, Connor’s too, but he won’t admit it. He’d rather pretend she’s nothing more than our baby sister, when in reality she is so much more.

“I’m in.” Jasper’s voice is cool, analytical, and dangerous.

My eyes snap open as Nikko calls to Pepper, and I hate that I’m here, unable to help aside from sending them sigils that we should never share. Elders pass down druid magic lessons verbally, that is a part of its power source. The elders may consider what Connor did disloyal, yet for Pepper I would break any and all rules.

Before I think better of it, I grab the phone and pace, wishing Nikko called with video so I could see what they are doing.

“Nik, Nik, what is going on?” I ask. “I swear if you do not answer me this moment, I’m going to fly over there and turn you into a tree.” The threat is empty, but he doesn’t know that.

I hear Pepper’s muffled voice, and I sag in relief.

“Tell me you have her,” I say as the crackling disperses.

“I’ve got her,” Nik assures me.

“Put her on,” I demand, needing to hear her voice.

“Yeah, hang on,” Nik says.

I wait for a breath, another. “Freckles?”

“Donny.” That’s all I need to hear before I sink into my chair. All the blood rushes from my head, and my body chills until my hands shake from the adrenaline drop.

“Freckles.” It’s all I can muster. All I can say.

“I’m okay,” she assures me, but there is a tremble in her voice. My brave girl finally met a situation she couldn’t overcome, and there was fear in her tone. I glance up at Connor, who doesn’t miss that fear either.

“Look, I need you to see my girl, Ali,” I begin and wince because that doesn’t sound good. “She’s going to tattoo you.”

“Now isn’t the best time for a tattoo, Donny.” There’s a bite in her voice that tells me she’s feeling a little more like herself, but it’s going to be a long time before she is back to her full level of snark.

“Give me the damn phone.” Connor steals the phone from me. “She’s going to tattoo you with protection sigils.”

I almost laugh, because telling that girl to do something is the easiest way to get her not to do it.

“That’s the stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard,” the daemon snarks. “It’s a terrible idea to put druid sigils on a witch, you imbecile. You should know—”

I cut him off. “What?”

“What did you just say?” Connor says as though that one word alone just shattered him.

It did. I can feel it. It’s the same feeling coursing through me.

No. It’s too much to hope for. “Impossible,” I whisper. We’d have known.

“You didn’t know?” Jasper asks after a beat.

“No.” My eyes widen, blurring everything around me. There’s no way. I’d have known. We’d have known.

“This explains everything.” Connor slumps on the end of my bed, his eyes unseeing and the phone clenched in his hands.

“Yes, well,” Jasper begins again, “her magic is dark. It explains why whatever happened here called to her.”

My eyes snap to Connor. “The bar,” I whisper. Our alarm kept going off, the one that detects dark magic.

“The body,” Connor whispers back.

This changes everything.

“I’ve got to go,” Jasper states, not waiting for us to reply. Instead, the line cuts off, leaving Connor and me staring at the small device.

“A witch.” My head drops into my hands, and I grip my hair, my entire body trembling with hope. “Connor.”

“I know.” His brogue is thick, his emotions swirling with those two words.

A knock on the door draws us out of our thoughts. I already know who it is, and I almost don’t want to call out to her. I don’t want to answer her. She should remain asleep, but Maribeth does what she wants.

Maribeth did nothing wrong, nothing except being born to a neighboring clan. “Yeah.” My voice cracks as I call her.

“I heard voices,” she says as she steps in. Her long white nightgown gives her an ethereal quality, and her dark red hair spills over her shoulders and down to her waist. She is everything Pepper isn’t.

A druid. Immortal.

She is everything our parents convinced us we needed as teen boys.

The three of us have been looking for an out since that moment. It also bound us in a friendship that nothing can alter. Our parents’ wishes no longer matter to us. We know better than to go against fate, even if we are fading as a species.

“What is it?” she demands, that fiery nature of hers spilling out. It’s the one similarity between her and Pepper. Mari is fierce. Even though she looks like an angel and is beyond beautiful, she is a force of nature, literally, and not at all in love with us.

“Our out,” Connor says, looking up at Mari with something I’ve never seen on my stoic brother’s face—hope.

Mari instantly picks up on what he isn’t saying, probably because he can’t.

We may not be in love with Mari, but I love her as though she were our little sister, one I would move heaven and hell for. At first, she went into this relationship thinking that we’d all fall in love over the years, which was the fairy tale our parents spun, but then we got to know each other, and one night over too much beer, we spilled everything to her about Pepper. Mari thought fated mates were a myth, and now she wants nothing more than to find her own fated mates.

She just needed the same out we did.

One we just found.

“Pepper?” she questions. Although we told her about Pepper, we kept Mari a secret from Pepper—a mistake I regret daily.

“She’s a witch.” I heave out a breath, laughing a little.

“Why didn’t she tell us?” Connor glances at me as though I have that information. I don’t. I’m just as lost as he is.

“Are you two that stupid?” Maribeth huffs out a breath, causing her hair to flutter out of her face.

“Yes,” I reply hesitantly.

“You are,” she answers. “You told me,” she says slowly, “that the day you parted, you told her that if she had magic, everything would be different.”

“Yes, that is what we said.” Connor’s voice turns into that of a grumpy old man’s.

“You fool.” Mari snorts, turning around. She’s about to leave us wondering, and she’ll make us beg for the answer, but dammit, I don’t have time for that.

“Mari, please.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I am not above begging for the answer.

“Fine.” She spins around, poking Connor in the chest. “You” —she points a finger at me— “and you are idiots.”

“Mari, we’ve already established that.” I roll my hand, itching for her to move on.

“You told her if she had magic, you would have stayed.” She rolls her eyes as though she’s talking to children.

“Explain it to me like I’m five, Mari.” Connor stands, towering over her slight frame.

But Mari, though small and slight, just tilts her head back, ready to defy him. “You insinuated she wasn’t good enough.”

“We would never.” I stand, ready to argue the point—until it hits me. No.

“What?” Connor throws up his hands.

“Ya get it, don’t you?” Mari nods and walks out of the room, yelling, “Explain it to the oaf, I’m going to pack.”

“What is she talking about?” Connor turns to me.

“She didn’t tell us because we implied magic would be the only reason we’d stay.” I shake my head at how dumb we were. “We made her feel as though she wasn’t enough for us to stay.”

His mouth drops, and all the blood rushes from his face.

I nod.

“Fuck,” he curses.

“Wait.” I run into the hall and into Mari’s room, where the lights are on and a suitcase sits on the bed. “What do you mean, packing?”

“Ya fool.” It’s her favorite nickname for us at this point. “Pepper is a witch.”

“Yes,” I reply.

“You left her the bar. She’s now the peacekeeper. As a mortal, the immortals couldn’t touch her.” She folds her clothing as quickly as possible, her ruby red lips laughing at us. “However, she’s a baby witch, my boy, so she’s free game.”

“Pepper is only turning twenty-four.” Connor grips my bicep.

“Aye.” Mari nods. “Ya left a witch in a city before she turns immortal. She has years to go.”

“So why are you packing?” I ask, feeling my heart pounding in my chest.

“I’m flying to Philadelphia to keep her alive.” She snorts. “I love ya two.” She tosses a shirt into the suitcase and glares at us. “But I don’t want to marry ya. Pepper is going to break our bond. We’ve just got to get her to twenty-seven.”

“You would do this for someone you don’t even know?” Dumbfounded, I stare at Mari, kinship swelling in my chest.

“You love her,” she says as if it’s that simple. “I’m also a druid, and this town is boring.”

“Dark magic is at play here, Mari,” Connor warns.

“Even better,” she states with a bloodthirsty smile. “Go pack. We fly out soon. Time to get your girl, and boys” —she glares at us once again— “don’t fuck it up for us.”

I hide my smile as I run back to my room.

This is too good to be true. There’s no way. Hope is a dangerous emotion.

My hand is on my closet door when my phone rings. Nikko’s face flashes on the screen. “Hey,” I greet my old friend. I miss him just as much as I miss Pepper. None of us would admit to the loss we felt when we parted.

“She won’t be happy that you know,” Nikko says hurriedly in a hushed voice.

“I know.” She kept it a secret from us for a reason. It means we will have to earn her trust to learn how she is a witch. “Who is Jasper?”

“Remember Halloween a few years ago?” His voice is quiet, and in the background, I hear several quiet voices.

“I do.” My hand hovers over my luggage as I recall the day burned into my memory. Nik said there were demon sightings, so we locked Pepper in my room, and when we went to look, our alarms blared to life. After we got to her, there was nothing.

“He was there,” Nikko says. “He’s the shadow of the web.”

Curses spill from my mouth.

“He is with her now.”

“Do we need to worry about him?” Unease grows in my stomach. I don’t like not being there. I don’t like not being able to assess the situation with my own eyes.

“No, he seems to feel the need to protect her.” He sighs. “That isn’t why I called back though. Don, we need you.”

That gets my attention. “What is it?”

The line pings for a video call, and I quickly accept. Nikko’s tired face comes into view. Gray circles line his eyes, his scruff is unkempt and unruly, and dark hair sticks out in different directions on his head as though he’s been tugging on the ends. “I’m in an office building. It’s…” He pauses and looks at me. “Creepy.”

“Show me.” The screen flips, and Nikko walks down a hall. Even over the phone, it has a strange vibe to it.

“Pepper pinged me her location,” Nik says as he walks down the hall. A man stumbles out of a door, and another hands him a bag, which he promptly pukes in.

What the hell? I sit on my chair, focusing on the screen. I barely notice when Connor walks in with Mari on his heels, chattering away.

They take one look at me and quiet, then they step in close to see the screen in my hand. The air thickens around us as Nik moves down the hall.

“Warning,” Nik says. “This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

He steps into the room and moves past his captain, who nods at me. I’ve known the man for a long time—hell, I helped him get that position—so I don’t miss the relief in his eyes when he sees me on Nik’s phone.

When the captain is out of sight, the camera focuses on the room.

There’s blood everywhere, splattered on the walls, door, and chairs.

“You are thinking it’s a residual haunting?” Mari peers over my shoulder, her pale face scrunching up as she glares at the screen, silently demanding its secrets.

“That’s what Pepper said.” Nik doesn’t even question Mari’s appearance.

Mari nods. “A death like that had to have left a signature.”

“Did Pepper tell you what she saw?” Connor asks.

“No,” he grumbles. “Jasper whisked her away too quickly. He didn’t even ask her, he just took her back to his place. Maybe they will call on the drive back, but she’s exhausted. I’m headed there as soon as I’m done, so I’ll fill you in on whatever she says.”

“Good.” Connor nods to himself. “What’s in the office?”

Nik steps in and focuses the phone on the body lying on the floor. “This isn’t what gets me, even though it appears he inflicted those wounds on himself,” he says, used to seeing dead bodies in his line of work. His voice holds no emotion, years on the job desensitizing him. “It’s this.” He lifts a small foil square that looks like a condom packet. “It’s a drug.”

“What kind of drug?” Mari asks, her face lighting up at the challenge. She really has been bored.

“All I know is that it leaves bodies as nothing more than dried husks.” He drops the packet and forward faces the camera, leaving us to stare at his nostril hairs. “Jasper stole the bodies from the damn morgue.”

“He still has them,” Connor states.

“How do you even know that?” Nik heads out of the office and into the hall.

“He’s a daemon, yes? He’s bound to something there just as we are bound to the lands here,” Connor answers. “If it’s a death he doesn’t understand, then he will go to great lengths to know how they died.”

“That is what the guy overdosed on that threw Pepper into some weird frozen state.” There’s worry in his voice. “My gut is telling me something big is happening, guys.”

“And Pepper is in the middle of it all.” And we left her unprotected and alone.

“Not for long,” Mari says. “We will see you as soon as we can.”

“You’re coming home?” Nik asks with hope in his voice.

“We are coming home,” I say, finally feeling right after two long years of feeling out of place. Home. Home to Pepper and Nik.

Chapter 21

Pepper

I rouse from a dreamless slumber that I wouldn’t mind drifting back into. As I blink the sleep from my eyes, all the aches from yesterday slowly register, and my sore muscles burn and pull as I try to adjust.

Today should be a day of rest, but I can’t. There’s far too much for me to do.

Behind me, Jasper’s body presses tight against my own. His warmth beats through me, causing sweat to bead on my back and drip slowly onto the sheets beneath us.

I need to get up and get out of here. Luckily, Jasper isn’t holding onto me like some human equivalent of a teddy bear, which strangely disappoints me.

Holding my breath, I roll to the side, causing the bed to dip subtly, but Jasper’s breathing remains smooth and steady. My ankles crack as they hit the cold floor, and I rise slowly.

For the first time since meeting the enigma that is Jasper, he looks peaceful lying in bed. The scene almost humanizes him, which is something I shouldn’t allow my brain to do.

He has plans for me today, and although I didn’t put up too much of a fight in the moment, it’s my last day off, and I just need…

To not be near him, Nikko, or a phone just in case the twins call.

I should tie him to the bed, but I need to get out of here, so I leave him there to rest. Clothing lies in heaps all over the room, so I collect them before dragging the layers on one by one.

Ever so slowly, I back out of the bedroom until I stand in the hall, my eyes trailing along his form one last time. Sunlight attempts to stream in beyond the blackout curtains, but all it succeeds in doing is creating a halo effect. The lighting gives Jasper an ethereal quality about him, angelic almost, even though I know he is anything but angelic.

I turn away and creep down the steps, hitting the third floor and the other bedroom with ease. The whole townhouse sits in deafening silence, and I hate it.

It beats on me louder than bass at a concert.

I rush into the bedroom I attempted to sleep in and slip on my boots before heading to the main floor. The tap of my shoes pops the bubble of silence, and it’s so loud it’s almost jarring.

I scan the darkened room, my eyes falling on the couch and Niko’s sleeping form. One arm is slung over his eyes, and one foot hangs against the floor. The other knee is propped up against the small couch, and a snore rocks through him on his next breath.

Nibbling my lip to keep from laughing, I watch his chest rise and fall before I finally turn away, feeling like a voyeur.

My purse lies in the same place I dropped it when I got here, and I quickly snatch it up and rush to the ground floor. I press my hand against the cold brass doorknob as guilt slowly burns in my chest.

I should stay after everything they did for me or at least leave a note. Both concepts aren’t me, though, so I push through the door and into the study.

Large bookshelves line one wall, while a desk sits in the middle of the room, dusty and dirty. It’s as though Jasper just left it there after moving in and never once returned. I don’t linger too long in here before I rush out the door and into the sunlight. The door clicks shut behind me, and I rush off down the road, feeling like a prisoner who just escaped Alcatraz, while slipping my purse over my shoulder.

I know every single bus route in this city, and though it looks like I’m taking a walk of shame, I hold my head high and slip around a corner on an exhale filled with relief.

Jasper and Nikko won’t allow me to disappear for too long, but I’m hoping it’s long enough to give me a moment to think—or a moment not to think and disappear for a little while.

When I was younger and my feelings got too damn big for me to evaluate, I would skate. In the winter, I’d head to the Blue Cross River Rink. During the off-season, I’d rotate through the roller rinks. By focusing on the simple task, my subconscious could wander and find solutions to all the problems building in my life.

I sit down on the grimy bus bench, my legs shaking with the itch to skate just for a little while… just enough to work through everything happening right now.

First, I need to go to my dad’s shop and check his hiding places, and then I need to change. I won’t have much time before Nik and Jasper come looking for me. Depending on traffic, I’ll have maybe an hour at most, but it should be just enough time.

The squeal of brakes alerts me to the arrival of the bus, and I dig out my pass while ignoring my phone. As I step up, the scent of diesel fills my lungs, and a familiar face smiles at me from the driver’s seat.

“Madam Lou.” The first genuine smile of the last week splits my lips as I see the beautiful southern goddess sitting there.

Her dark eyes take me in with a simple arched brow. Her long, manicured fingers tap her steering wheel a moment before she shakes her head and gestures for me to get on the damn bus.

“Pepper O’Malley,” she says in that incredible Southern twang of hers. It still amazes me that after all these years of living in Philadelphia, she still holds onto her Southern accent. “Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Oh, I bet I’m a sight, alright.” Chuckling, I slip into the busted vinyl seat behind her. “It’s been what?” I slowly count the years.

“Five years since you graduated high school.” She closes the door and begins her route, the bus rocking gently beneath me.

There aren’t many people on the bus just after lunch. In a few hours, the ring won’t have a spare inch to skate. “Yeah, high school.” I wince, because high school was not the best. I got in trouble a lot, but Madam Lou was always there to pick me up from school and bring me home. Even when the principal suspended me, I knew I could trust her to gather my butt from the stop down the street.

Granted, that was her job, but I still thanked her for it.

“Now, sugar” —her dark eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror— “you look like you have seen the devil and lived to tell his whole autobiography.”

Laughter spills out of my lungs, because she’s oh so close to the truth. “Just another walk of shame,” I deflect. It isn’t an outright lie, because Jasper knocked me out with his wicked tongue and dirty words.

“I don’t buy it,” Madam Lou says, seeing right through my bullshit. She was always fantastic at seeing through my lies and cutting right to the truth of my words. “How are those young men of yours?”

“The twins?” I snort. “Home in Ireland.” They aren’t mine either, but I keep that to myself. Madam Lou always saw the three of us together.

“That’s a damn shame. I always thought you’d end up with one of them.” She pauses and glances at me again before she turns to take us out of Center City. “Or both.” She laughs at her joke.

“You know I could never choose.” I pick at the threads on my oversized shirt. The nervous habit spills over whenever someone brings them up. I’m glad Madam Lou picked me up, because otherwise, I’d have to sit in silence.

“You shouldn’t have to choose, sugar.” Her voice jumps as the bus hits a pothole. “Love doesn’t see time, numbers, or age.”

Her words hit a little too close to my heart, and I stare out the front window as I lean on the back of her seat. “It sure doesn’t.”

“Tell me about this devil,” she prompts.

“Which one?” That term could apply to Jasper, Nikko, or even the twins. Hell, it could apply to someone I haven’t met yet, or maybe even the immortal killing other immortals.

“Sounds like you have a few on your mind.”

“I do,” I mumble as her soft, powdery scent floats to me on a breeze through her open window.

The bus rocks to a stop, and she opens the door, letting on a few more passengers while a couple get off.

“Where ya headed today, Pepper?” she asks as she speeds down the narrow streets. It always amazed me how buses could navigate these streets when I can barely navigate them on my motorcycle, but Madam Lou has that superpower, and it is one I am insanely jealous of.

“My dad’s.” I sigh because I haven’t been there in over a week, and Nikko’s been sleeping there, so I don’t know what shape it’s in.

Not to mention it’s been closed for a little while. The building collects dust and bills as I ignore its existence.

“Next stop, pumpkin.” She smacks the steering wheel. “You have a birthday coming up, don’t you?”

“I sure do.” I watch her smile lift her entire face in the rearview mirror. “Twenty-four,” I tell her, although it’s more like twenty-five and a half. Mental fatigue settles in my bones, making me feel at least ten years older than that.

“So young.” She groans like an old lady trying to run in a walker. “Baby girl, you have got to enjoy your youth. Make those men your bitches and rule over your domain.”

“You always had a way with words.” I smile at her as I see my stop ahead.

“Of course I do, sugar.” The bus slows down, and her hand grips the handle to open the door. “I mean it, Pepper O’Malley. Fate destined you for incredible things. One day you will hold the key to this city. Don’t overthink the present.”

I cock my head to the side as her words fall from her honeyed lips. Confusion swells inside of me, and I’m trapped standing there on the bus, the diesel exhaust and chatter from passengers filling the bus buzzing in the background.

“Go on now, sugar.” She winks at me. “Get off my bus.”

Shaking my head, I thud off the bus, my boots clanking on the steps as I stomp onto the sidewalk. Cracks creep up with thick tree roots in front of my dad’s garage. I spin around as the bus door closes, listening to Madam Lou yelling at anyone who dares to defy her rule by standing while the bus runs.

Odd.

Shaking myself out of it, I hit the alley and the little side door. I don’t have a key, but the fire escape will lead me to a window I can climb through. Dangerous? Sure. But I’ve had no one break in since the shop closed.

Kicking a black milk crate under the ladder, I hop up and jump to grab the ladder, which jangles down like chains rubbing against chains. Rust burns my hands when the ladder clanks on the concrete, and I climb up as quickly as possible.

It’s been twenty minutes since I snuck out. I’m only going to allow myself forty minutes here. That’s it and not a minute more.

Scaling the ladder, I reach the window I’ve always kept cracked and yank it up. The window gets stuck, and it takes a full pull before I finally get it all the way up, and then I climb in through the window.

Once upon a time, this little space was where I lived and thrived. It was my home away from home, and the space I couldn’t ever give up, no matter how crazy my life got.

The shop was my dad’s pride and joy. It’s also where he died, but I’ve never once seen his ghost, and now that I’ve seen a ghost, I can answer that with a little more assurance. Dad does not haunt the shop.

It’s a shame though. If he did, then it would help me out a whole hell of a lot more.

Yanking the window shut, I kick a few Solo cups out of the way. “I should clean.” I wince, because I sent Nikko here without knowing how messy it was.

Tossing myself and my purse on the couch, I dig in and grab my phone, checking all the missed calls and messages. Most are from Nikko after I shared my location with him last night, which seems like an eternity ago.

There’s a picture from Sabina in the robe I sent her, looking fabulous while her mate Christian scowls in the background. It’s a widow’s robe.

Sometimes a gal has to remind her guys that she doesn’t need them but wants them. Being pregnant, she needs all the confidence she can muster.

There’s a message from Donovan as well reading simply, Call me.

“I think the fuck not.” I turn my phone off and toss it on the futon.

All I need right now is a change of clothes and a flathead screwdriver.

Stripping out of the borrowed clothes as quickly as I can, I grab fresh panties, a bralette in the same sexy shade of purple, and my fabric overalls that every gal needs in her life.

Seriously, overalls are life.

And socks, I need more spooky socks. Pulling on socks with little spiders all over them, I shove my feet back in my boots and reach for the last thing I need today—my dad’s old watch. The thick gold band needs a good cleaning, and I smudged the front with oil, but the minute and second hand still tick away simultaneously.

Tucking my medallion in my bra, I hurry out of the loft and thud down the steps to the one secret hiding place I know about.

Dad liked to play hide-and-seek with essential documents. Mom hated it, but I saw it as a challenge. He was always forgetting where he put shit like his social security card or birth certificate.

He once lost mine, and Mom yelled at him for days until he found it, which he did, hidden between two books on the shelf downstairs.

After that, I watched him when he grabbed papers or books. He always thought I was too young to pay attention—a theme I’ve noticed amongst my aunts as well—so I went unnoticed.

Dad was a big guy with a personality larger than life itself. He wasn’t all muscle, but he had a dad bod and the persona to compete with it, including a belly laugh that shook his whole body.

He was amazing, thoughtful, loving, and enjoyed cooking. He also never shied away from teaching me how to rebuild an engine. One of my first core memories was lying on the floor with him as he dismantled an engine.

I was two.

Skidding to a stop, I turn toward the back wall where the offices sit. I haven’t entered those in weeks—probably at least a year, if I’m being honest.

Rushing to the nearest tool chest, I open a drawer and grab the flathead I need. Time is running out, and I need to know if anything hides in the wall.

Pushing the nerves from my belly, I dart into his office. Dust motes go flying, and I hold in a sneeze that I know will make me pee myself. Waving my hand around my face like it might do something, I flip on the light.

The fluorescent open sign on the wall buzzes to life, along with one of those lamps that’s just a woman’s leg and tassels. Those two opposite bulbs give the room a nightclub vibe. I rush around the side of the desk and plop down on Dad’s old leather chair with the screwdriver in hand.

Nibbling my bottom lip until it bleeds, I swallow the last of my nerves and push aside the filing cabinet to reveal the old-school paneled wall.

There it is, right where he left it. It has a small little indent that I know if I shove the screwdriver in just right—pop. The panel pops out, revealing a little cubby.

A very empty cubby. Well, mostly empty.

A brittle piece of paper sits face down, surrounded by dust and debris that may or may not belong to a mouse. Afraid it might crack and tear, I gently flip the paper over.

Register of birth.

It’s a birth certificate, but it sure as hell isn’t from the United States. My eyes scan the paper multiple times, not really seeing the words or the years.

Closing my eyes, I take a centering breath before I blow it out.

At the top sits my father’s name—Steven.

No last name. Not one.

Below his name is a woman’s name—Elspeth.

“Well, that is one interesting coincidence,” I whisper. She has the last name McEwen. “Familiar.”

My fingers tremble as I run them over the faded ink that reads, Royal Infirmary. The letters below have faded, or perhaps someone scratched them out. It’s hard to tell.

McEwen.

Nibbling my lip, I gently replace the paper and shut the panel, and then move the filing cabinet back into place.

With no time left, I swirl up and take off out of the office toward the front, where a few backup bikes sit. They were my dad’s, so they are mostly collecting dust, but I try to start them up every so often. They are also my out.

I grab the keys for my ’84 Kawasaki and steer it out the side door. Nik will know to come here first, but Jasper might not. Grabbing a simple black leather bomber, I hustle my ass outside, down a side street, and out of the way.

I leave the door unlocked because I know they will end up there sooner rather than later, and in the next breath, I take off down the street toward the nearest skate rink.

Late afternoon sunlight warms my face slower than the October air chills it. Horns honk, and laughter peels out from alleys and open windows.

Cobwebs dance in the breeze, and giant spiders hang from windows and porches. Everyone is gearing up for Halloween, while I’m just over here trying to find a moment to breathe.

McEwen. That has to be my grandmother’s name. So why am I an O’Malley?

Questions fill my head and spill out just as fast while I focus on the road and my destination. I pause at a light, hearing a siren wail in the distance. For a moment, adrenaline floods my veins, pumping through my system until I can taste it on my tongue.

A cop sails past the light, then another, and another.

Nope, go right to the rink, Pepper.

Except the nosy part of me is a glutton for punishment, and as the light turns green, I pull out into traffic and cut left, earning a few curse words and honks directed at me.

The city is always full of sirens, but not all of them are because of an overdose or dead body. It shouldn’t get under my skin, not now, but I can’t help it as I follow the flashing lights down the street.

The engine rumbles under me as I come up on another intersection full of cops and two cars that clearly bumped into each other.

It’s anticlimactic, a letdown, but also a reminder.

Leaving it behind, I drive back toward the rink and park. My head hangs, and my breathing deepens as I gather myself for a moment before climbing off the bike and heading inside. Patting my side pocket, I pull out the wad of backup cash, yank out a twenty, and walk up to the rental counter.

I hate renting skates, but seeing as I have a demon and a cop on my ass, I need to rent the skates.

“Size?” A bored teen blows her gum out until it pops with the sickly sweet scent of Double Bubble.

“Seven.” I hand over a twenty, snatching the skates as soon as she sets them on the counter. “Thanks,” I mumble, weaving around the counter and toward the seats. There aren’t many people out at this time of day, mostly just the derby girls practicing and a few others who believe skating is life.

I once thought that as well, but now, I barely have time to think of who I am, let alone find time for a hobby.

Slumping on a seat, I kick off my shoes and slip my feet into the skates. They are lumpy, bumpy, and uncomfortable, but they have wheels, and it soothes something inside me.

The brittle laces damn near break several times, and when I am finally tied up, I grab my shoes and head to the bathroom.

There’s no reason to skate on a full bladder. One fall is all it will take, and bam, pee everywhere. I’m trying to jostle my shoes and remember how my feet work when a body slams into me.

“Excuse you,” I grumble, slowly turning while one hand reaches for the bathroom door to hold my balance.

I see dark features set on a pale-skinned face. Recently popped blood vessels look like sunbursts on his face and in the sclera of his eyes, and lanky hair full of grease sticks out on his head. It’s the scowl, however, that gets under my skin.

A scowl that looks familiar.

Memory of opening night flashes behind my eyes. “Wait,” I whisper. “I know you.”

Holy shit. It’s the guy Jasper has been looking for.

Recognition flashes across his face, and in one quick movement, he shoves me into the door, where I promptly fall, unused to having four wheels on my feet.

I slam to the ground, the door thudding closed and my ass bruising faster than a peach. “You fucking cock sucking kindergarten bully piece of shit,” I yell at the door and slam my hands on the floor beneath me.

“Colorful,” a dry voice mutters, shocking the hell out of me.

Swinging around, I glare at the man in the women’s restroom. I’m not mad about it, hell, I’ve used the men’s room more than once in a pinch—only I’m not in the lady’s room.

“What in the stranger things did I land in?”

Chapter 22

Pepper

No, no, no.

“I will deal with you in a moment,” I growl at the man before me, putting all my irritation into that petty act of rebellion by dismissing him. Remaining on my knees, I wiggle around to face the door, and not wanting to fall on my butt, I knee walk back to the door and open it. “What is this?” I wail. It isn’t a pretty sound, but dammit, he was right there.

Now it’s a broom closet—a very familiar broom closet. That mop, that one right there, the dirty one that smells of mold, is my mop. I know by the stench that keeps wafting to me.

“Problem?” the man behind me questions.

It takes everything inside of me not to lose my ever-loving shit at him. I fail. Swinging around, still on my knees because I don’t want to die today due to my foolishness, I yell at the man. “He was right there, you fool!”

“Who?” He leans over a wooden table, his long fingers pressing down on the top as he blinks at me with the creepiest eyes I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

“The guy!” I scream and slowly rise. Heaving out a breath, I glide over to him. Luckily, the skates give me an extra few inches, allowing me to look at the lean man before me eye to eye.

“That explains nothing.” He raises a single white eyebrow.

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are—”

Cutting me off, he proudly states, “I am the daemon of this library.”

Library? Oh, I am coming back to that, just not right now. “And you snatched me, you kidnapper,” I seethe.

“Pepper, is it?” He squints his white eyes. Yes, white. There’s very little pupil and red irises. “One of your associates brought it to my attention that you require help.”

“Yes, I do.” I nod, sliding a little bit. My hands slam on the table before I fall on my ass. “You need to send me back to that skating rink.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no.” He draws the word out as though he is enjoying this moment. His pink lips tick up, and his pale, pale skin glimmers in the lighting.

He’s cute in a creepy kind of way, so naturally, I’m drawn to him like a bee to honey.

“You don’t understand.” Pleading always works. The last resort is tears. “That guy has been peddling drugs.”

“Who in Philadelphia isn’t peddling drugs?” he asks with a bored tone.

He isn’t wrong. “Dangerous drugs,” I emphasize. “Terror drugs.”

“Ah, yes, Jasper brought me the bodies.” He glances at a room at the back of the library, which I have yet to acknowledge.

“Wait.” I hold up a hand, feeling irritation brewing inside of me. “Jasper is the reason I’m here?”

Then it hits me. Jasper said my training started today. I thought, naively, that if I ran away, he couldn’t drag me to my lessons. He never once insinuated that my lessons would come to me.

“I should have tied him up,” I seethe again, feeling my pulse pounding in my neck.

“Probably,” Professor Pompous agrees. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I have things to do today,” he sneers, as though I’m wasting his time.

“Look, you could easily send me back to the skating rink. I’d leave you alone. You go your way, I go mine.” A way that involves hunting down a drug runner. I was so damn close.

“No,” he states once more. “You can call me Van or Bo, your choice. I prefer Van.”

Bo it is.

“No, you are now Professor Turnip.” I drum my fingers on the workbench and glare at him.

“It’s because I appear albino, isn’t it?” He blinks at me. “You’re rude, you know that?”

I bite back a smile. Rude is better than crying. I can be an unpleasant dick, and he will send me away. “Just getting started.”

“Well, I suggest” —he leans down into my three feet of space— “that you drop the attitude and the rush to go anywhere and concentrate, especially if you want your magic back.”

He has me there. Grinding my teeth loud enough to cause his eye to twitch, I jut my chin out. “Fine. But I’m not here willingly.”

“A witch with an attitude. Imagine that.” He backs away from the table. His rigid posture makes him appear as though he never let loose once in his life. He’s wound tighter than a bow string.

Wearing simple black pants and a tan button-down, he looks every inch a professor minus the tweed. Long wisps of white hair graze his forehead, appearing like baby duck feathers.

Ducky, that’s what I’m going to call him from here on out.

He claimed he only appears albino, and I refuse to allow myself a moment to wonder what that means.

“Have I passed?” he questions with the barest hint of a smile.

“Passed what?”

“Your perusal,” he states simply while fixing the cuff on his shirt.

Busted. “You said you appear albino.” Damn my curiosity.

“Ah, yes, I do believe you mortals say none of your business.” His cultured voice almost reminds me of someone, but then his words register, and it falls away.

“Let’s get this shit show started.” I push away from the table and roll out into the hall.

Clearing his throat, the professor points to my skates. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh, I mind.” My shoes are on the floor by the open door leading into my closet, and I leave them there. I could be chasing down the bad guy Jasper has been looking for, but instead, I’m imprisoned in a freaking library. “What is this place?”

Knowing the skates might become a losing battle, he sighs rather dramatically. “This is my knowledge library.”

“What?” I ask. I spin on my skates, taking it all in.

I’m in an aisle surrounded by library tables lined up in a chevron pattern, pointing toward the bookshelves. Behind me sits a large desk where, in a normal library, there would be a librarian. There’s a computer and an old-school phone I can just make out from here. To the left, along the wall, are doors that continue into the aisles of books.

Professor Bobo faces the right, where more doors sit, spaced out farther apart with viewing windows inside the rooms. They are all empty, of course, but it looks like we will head in that direction.

Ahead of me are aisles upon aisles of bookshelves. They go back so far that I can’t see their end, only their beginning.

“Are you done?” Bo asks in that bored, clipped tone of his that sets me on edge.

“Alexandria.” I snap my fingers. “That’s where we are, aren’t we?”

“No.” Bored, he rolls his eyes and huffs.

I frown in disappointment, because I was so sure that is exactly where I landed. “Well, I’m not in Philadelphia anymore, Toto.”

His head tilts back, and he looks like he’s about to throttle me. Annoyance accomplished. I wonder how far I can push this daemon.

“You’re a child,” he says as he drops his head back down to glare at me, “who shouldn’t have magic.”

I pretend his words stab me in the heart by slamming a fist to my chest and then my hand. Naturally, I stumble because I’m still wearing the skates, and I slip. My skates go right out from under me, and I land on my ass. My breath whooshes out as my back slams against the floor and my hands slam to my sides.

Stars, there are literal stars for the ceiling, not just proverbial stars floating around my head from cracking it on the floor. Ever so slowly, I try to breathe.

“Now will you remove the skates?” the professor questions, not hiding his annoyance.

“Yeah,” I wheeze and sit up, giving in because otherwise I might never get out of here. At least I can tell Jasper and Nikko that he was there at the skating rink. I hope like hell he isn’t peddling that drug to kids.

Dammit, I didn’t even think about that. I sit up far too fast for someone who just slammed against the floor and plead with the ghost before me one more time. “That guy was at a skating rink full of kids, a drug runner. What if he is selling to kids?”

He heaves out a sigh and blinks at me before nodding once. “Fine.”

“Sweet!” I kick off my skates, stand on shaky legs, and clap my hands. “Let’s go.”

“Not you.” He doesn’t even hide his eye roll as he digs out a phone. His fingers fly over the screen before he blinks at me and says, “It’s done. Let’s go.”

“You delegated, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t even answer, just ignores me and heads toward a door to one of the side rooms. “Jasper said you don’t know your maternal line.”

Oh, man. I groan. I want to lie to this guy, but I sense that if I run on lies here, then I’ll never leave, so instead, I do what does not feel right, and I tell the truth. “McEwen.”

“Ah, yes.” He opens the door and flips on the lights. “That is rather helpful,” he mutters to himself as he steps in.

I reluctantly follow. As I step through the doorway, my chest burns with warmth, and I sigh as my magic settles behind my breastbone. “Oh, that’s the stuff. I’ve missed you.”

“In here, you will have your magic. It’s safe in here, and there isn’t anything you can destroy.” He waves his hands, and the small room widens into a large circular space. It’s more like a prison cell with metal walls and a ceiling, but it could be in hell and I wouldn’t care because I have my magic back. “Do refrain from casting until we talk.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply sternly while facing him and click my heels.

“McEwen is a well-known name. I’ll have to check my stacks to see if you are of their lineage or just a false child.” He drums his fingers on the table. “She had dark magic, but they kept her concentration hidden.”

“What the hell is a false child?” My foot taps in irritation.

“A false child is one who took on the name McEwen because of Elspeth’s power.”

“That’s my middle name.”

“You would be unfortunate enough to be her descendent.” He waves his hands. “It doesn’t matter now because I can eventually test your blood for confirmation.”

“What’s right now, teacher man?”

“Right now, we determine your magical affinity.” He conjures a table in the center, this one made of steel to match the walls. “Magic bounces off metal, so be aware that if you cast, you will most likely just be hitting yourself in the process.”

“Noted.”

“Your maternal line should have handed these lessons down to you. Witches, like druids, learn through verbal story telling. Once the witch has perfected the spell, they write it down in their ancestral grimoire.”

“That sounds counterintuitive.” I pad over to the table, suddenly interested in this science lesson. If I can’t be out hunting a bad guy, then I may as well learn some magic.

“It is not.” He eyes me from head to toe. “Tell me, what other training have you had?”

“Who says I have other training?” I hedge.

“The confidence you wear isn’t normal on mortals.”

“Ouch.” I roll my eyes at him and give him the general rundown. “I don’t have much official training in magic. Although I apparently grew up around it, I didn’t know I was a witch until a few years ago. Since then, I spent time with the amazons, and my bestie is a pixie.”

He shudders at that. “Never bring the pest here.”

“Hey!”

He holds up a hand to ward off my protests. “They are the pests of the fae. Wretched creatures.”

“Dede is not a pest.”

“Oh, it is worse than I thought. You have named it,” he sneers.

“You and I will never get along,” I warn him.

“You are my pupil, not my lover, and certainly not my friend.”

“You have many of those?” I tease him.

“What?”

“Lovers?” I say, enjoying the shock on his face. “You look like the kind of guy who likes his steak well done.”

“I like my pupils well done.”

I blink at him. Did he just say what I think he said? “You have no idea,” I muse. “No sex for you.”

“I am bound to a library in the cosmos. What women do you see here?” He throws up his hands, and exasperation bleeds from him.

“Thank you.” I smile. Not only did he give me the location of this library, but he also confirmed he does, in fact, like women. I wasn’t sure which way he swung—not that it matters, because it doesn’t. “You also look like the kind of guy who only fucks in missionary.”

Surprising me, his lips tick up into a smile and his head tilts just a fraction to the left. Did I misjudge him with that one?

“Pepper, don’t underestimate missionary.” He gives me a cruel smile. I definitely miscalculated. “Especially when my cock thrusts so hard into your weeping cunt that all you can do is gasp for breath and grip my shoulders to hang on. But missionary isn’t just for the bed.” He spreads his hands wide. “Tables. Desks. Sofas.”

I regret my choice of words. A flush creeps up my cheeks as he gives me a smug look. He also insinuated that could happen between the two of us. Never.

“Moving on,” he states, and the moment is gone. “There are generally five kinds of witches.”

I nod, already knowing where this is going. “Green, kitchen, sea, cosmic, and divination.”

“Yes, a simple internet search would provide that,” he replies drolly. “It isn’t that simple, and you would have learned this if your mother had told you.”

“Mom is human.”

“Impossible,” he scoffs. When I don’t laugh, he sobers up. “Well, you just got more interesting.”

“You are welcome.” The edge of a smile shifts my face into a grimace.

“What of your familiar?” He drums his fingers along his thigh, distracting me for a moment before his words register.

“No thank you.” Just thinking about a cat makes me want to sneeze. I don’t hate them, but I would more than likely forget its existence and it would die of starvation—not on purpose of course.

“Interesting,” he murmurs the word as though it is anything but interesting.

I both like and dislike how he says that. “Right, so it isn’t just those five kinds?”

“No.” There’s a blandness to his voice, but every now and again, his tone changes, telling me this is the mask he wears unless provoked. “We begin with light and dark. Similar to the fae, witches gravitate toward light and dark. Usually, you would follow in the footsteps of your maternal line, but you cannot, and I can only assume it is because they are dead.”

“Harsh.”

“But the truth.” He snaps his fingers. “Pay attention.”

“All ears.”

He gives me the look that all teachers give when they are ready to snap at an unruly student causing a ruckus in the back of the classroom. “Right,” he drawls. “We will begin there.”

“Dark magic,” I state.

Clearly annoyed with me, he carries on. “Light and dark. We will begin there.” He waits for me to interrupt again, but this time, I don’t. He waves his hands in front of him, and I want to laugh, but I don’t when two balls of energy rise from the table.

“Cool,” I whisper, watching as a light burns almost as brilliantly as the sun, and the dark one seems to cast a void in the air.

“Light is the absence of dark, and dark is the absence of light. They are two halves of a whole.” He drops his hands, leaving the balls to hover midair. “Fae and witches gravitate toward one or the other. For the fae, this would enter them into courts.”

“But I’m not fae.”

“Clearly.” He glances up at me through long, thick white lashes. “Witch magic comes from the power of their maternal line. Fae magic comes from the power of their court.”

“Like druids draw their power from the land.”

“Yes,” he says simply. “But witches are interesting creatures. Fascinating, really. Some just learn magic, mortals drawn to the power. They may meditate for years until they embrace it. Usually, this is just light magic, divination, but those with power in their blood?” He glances up at me, and his eyes darken with intrigue. “They can draw from ancestors long forgotten.”

“That’s kind of creepy.”

He just shrugs. “Many have an ancestral table set up in their homes where they place offerings and gifts for the power bestowed upon them. Always give thanks.” A smile tugs at his lips. “I assume you haven’t done this?”

No. I keep my lips sealed because, of course, I haven’t done this. I didn’t know I was supposed to.

He hums at me in response, making me feel foolish. I brush that feeling off because I can’t change what I don’t know. Now that I know, I’ll have to figure something out.

“Today, you learn if you are true dark or true light.” Stepping back, he stands tall, and I miss my few inches of height to look at him in the eye. “Tell me, what magic calls to you? Potions? Spells? Healing?”

This is where things might get tricky. “I don’t even know.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Nothing calls to me, not exactly. I can keep some plants alive, and some I can’t. Sometimes I like to pull out a tarot deck, and sometimes I don’t. The images don’t speak to me either, and I know that’s an issue. I love potions and spells, but for the most part, I just like to, you know…” I wave my hands around me. How does one explain they love to zap shit and watch it blow up?

“I don’t.”

Out with it. “I like to just zap shit.”

He blinks at me before he sighs again. I’m learning his sighs. That one is consideration. “Alright, tell me about the first time you experienced magic.”

Instead of answering immediately, I ask him, “When do most witches experience magic?”

“Depends. Usually at the time of their first menses,” he says in that detached way of his.

“No one says menses.” I mock how he said the word by deepening my voice. “Period. Aunt Flow. The red dragon. Bloodbath.”

“Can we move on?”

“Right, so it was a few years ago.” I frown. I’m almost twenty-four, and my first taste of magic came at twenty.

“You’re a late bloomer,” he mutters, making it sound as though that is a bad thing.

I refuse to accept that. “I was upstate on my cousin’s pack lands, at a lake. I had just dropped my medallion in the water.”

“What medallion?”

I pull the chain from under my outfit, tug it over my head, and hand it to him. While he scrutinizes the gold, I take off my jacket since it’s warm in here and toss it in the corner. When I turn around, Bo’s lip tugs up in a sneer at my casual display of comfort.

“Hecate.” He hands it back. “It means little in this moment. Carry on.”

Blinking at him, I tug it back over my head. “It was a gift from my dad,” I mutter, feeling as though I need to stick up for the gold medallion. When I get zero emotion out of him, I give up stalling. “It fell in the water. I remember lying on the dock and willing the medallion to come to me. At first, there was a pulse that shook the water. After a few tries, it rose to the surface.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Inconsequential,” he says then grumbles under his breath, and I’m pretty sure he is speaking an unfamiliar language entirely. “Calling an heirloom is something most witches can do. I need more.”

“Can’t I just touch—” I reach for an orb, only for Bo to slap my hands away.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he warns. “Until I know what I’m working with, touching light when you are dark could hurt you.”

“Aww, you do care.”

“I’m starting not to.”

“Then what do we do?” I groan, throwing my arms in the air.

“We talk. Tell me more about what your next encounter with magic was.”

I wince. “You won’t like it.”

“Nothing about this conversation is likable.”

I’m not even offended at that. Okay, maybe a little, because I am likable. “I created a potion.” I shrug casually, but judging by the horror on his face, it really isn’t nothing. I rush on before he yells at me. “I was hurting. Heartbroken.”

“Neither of which would kill you.” He shakes his head, his disappointment evident. “What did you do?”

“So I was in Themyscira, trying to roll through my movements with my spear.” I step away from the table and pace. “I just didn’t want to hurt anymore. So that night after dinner, when we had time to ourselves, I went into the jungle to pick ingredients.”

Intrigue shapes his features. “How did you know what to choose?”

“I focused on what I wanted to feel.” I glance over at him. He watches my every move, my every breath. “I grabbed things I sensed would take the edge off.” Which it did. “Do you need to know what I grabbed?”

“No,” he says softly. “You didn’t use a spell given to you verbally by your maternal line. You used gut instinct and that… is telling.”

“Telling how?”

“Your magic is late,” he reminds me. “You grab things that feel right. I assume you feel drawn to certain things that appear to have no rhyme or reason?”

I nod my head slowly.

His head tilts to the side. “Tell me, Pepper, do you fear the dark?”

I scoff at him. “No.” I have never feared the dark, not until last night, but I feel like those circumstances don’t count here. He says nothing to my response, and I feel like I need to explain myself to him. “It is the light that we should fear.” I lick my dry lips. “In the light, we see what’s there before us. We believe our eyes convey the truth, but what we don’t see is the knife hidden behind their back. I cannot trust my eyes and what they see when so much more exists beneath the surface,” I add softly.

Bo slowly smiles at me as though he’s just uncovered all my secrets. “And the dark?”

“In the dark, we feel.” I refrain from closing my eyes. “We trust an instinct ingrained into our DNA, and we use senses other than sight to tell us what is and isn’t real.”

“Excellent, Pepper,” he whispers. “I know what you are.”

My head jerks up, and butterflies explode in my stomach. “What?”

In the next moment, he pushes the dark orb right at me. It explodes to drape over every single inch of the circular room. The energy licks at my skin, tasting me as stars flash before my eyes. “Chaos magic,” he says, and his voice bounces all around me. “Dark magic.”

Warmth settles inside me. I know who I am, what I am.

A chaos witch.

“What the hell is that?” I shatter the bubble with my words, revealing a smiling Professor Bo. That can’t be good.

Chapter 23

Pepper

“What is a chaos witch?” I ask the daemon standing before me.

All at once, the darkness fades away, leaving us to stand in the room, the orbs and the table gone. Professor Bo cocks his head to the side, his posture rigid and eyes seeing through me. There is just something about him that is off-putting and perhaps not quite right.

“Chaos magic” —he takes a tentative step toward me— “is dark magic, one without a central or neutral tool. Chaos magic is the primal creative force.”

“You are going to have to break it down for me.”

“Many witches need tools to cast—spells, potions, herbs, and even wands. We call these a focus.” His voice drips with interest as he defines what chaos magic is and what it is not.

“Alright, like a green witch needs herbs to mix up a potion for a hangover.”

“Crude, but also not wrong.”

“It was because I said hangover, wasn’t it?”

Bo just blinks at me. “Chaos magic is the lack of a focus.”

“Hey,” I cut in.

“Listen, Pepper.” He snorts at me before carrying on. “It is hard to define because all chaos witches of the past were—” He pauses as though he doesn’t want to explain.

He isn’t getting off the hook that easily. “Burned at the stake?”

“Yes, before they turned twenty-seven.” One long finger taps on his thigh as he thinks. “I suppose that is why chaos witches hid their magic. They played the part of a dutiful witch, using wands and tools to pretend they had to focus their magic. Otherwise, they risked being hunted and killed.”

“So, my grandmother?”

“Elspeth died at the stake.” He sighs. “There are few chaos witches who make it to twenty-seven. Other witches view them as being too dark, too chaotic, if you will. All they need is their minds.” That long finger taps his temple.

“Super, so if others discover my magic, then I’m dead.” I raise my hand, needing to feel this dark magic that others deem too dark. I hold my hand out, palm up, as black magic weaves between my fingers like a coiling snake. Little specks of what look like glitter sparkle in the inky magic. “I don’t feel evil.”

“Interesting assumption.” Bo steps close. “Also not wrong. We viewed many chaos witches as the worst because they didn’t need to concoct a spell with instructions. As you have, they could go into the wild and pick the ingredients that called to them. They could do wondrous things and commit some of the worst magical crimes in history.”

I let my magic go, allowing it to sink into my skin, but it doesn’t completely dissolve. Instead, it winds around my arm then my neck, clinging to me as though it is sentient and it knows Bo will lock it away once we leave this room.

“Like what?” I ask, licking my dry lips. Bo looks at them with a hunger that shocks me. I might drive him crazy, but I also interest him. I’m just not sure how I feel about that interest. He is my professor, after all.

New kink unlocked.

“Do you know of Aleister Crowley?” he asks, dragging my head out of the gutter.

My jaw drops. “No way.”

“Men rarely carry the gene to cast magic, but Aleister was different.” Bo steps away and turns toward the door, intent on heading out into the library. I almost don’t want to go because leaving this room will cut off my link to my magic. “He knew who he was because his mother was a witch herself. Unlike many other chaos witches before them, they survived past their twenty-seventh birthdays, and it was then they discovered the power of sex magic.”

“Wouldn’t that essentially be a tool?” I question as we step back into the library and my magic drifts away. Dizziness washes through me at the sudden loss.

“Ah, yes.” Bo perks up at my question. “Very good.”

Alright. I am just a girl in a library with a daemon, and his praise is… librarian’s kiss—no more chef’s kisses for me. I want librarian kisses. And praise, all the praise.

Bo thrives in his role of professor, and I almost feel bad for giving him such a hard time earlier. He loves teaching and history. As he leads us down an aisle, the fragrance of leather assaults my senses.

It’s his scent as well—books and tea with just a hint of leather-bound tomes.

Refusing to be attracted at the moment, I move the conversation forward. “So, sex magic is a tool.” I roll that around in my head before adding, “The body is the tool.”

“And therein lies the crux.” He glances over my shoulder. “Chaos magic comes from within, and using the body…” Excitement laces his words. “Well, isn’t it just another tool?”

“It’s a paradox.”

“Yes, it is!” He beams. “And so is blood magic.” He pauses before a shelf, his eyes scanning up and down. Muttering under his breath, he materializes glasses on his nose, clear rims that almost blend into his features. “Here we are.”

“So Crowley used sex and blood magic?” I can only imagine the outcome there. “There isn’t much in history books about that.” I scrunch up my face in thought, because I don’t recall much more about him other than he was certifiably insane.

“Crowley utilized his body as a weapon to instigate chaos and feed his power.” Bo’s pointer finger moves down the page. “This is what I was looking for.” His eyes briefly flick up to mine. “Sex rituals. By using his body, he could build his power through sex by any means.”

My mouth drops open at the implications. “Ew.”

“Yes, ew.” He puts the book away. “Crowley used his blood to make others do his bidding. That is chaos magic. That is why, if that knowledge leaves this library, you may not survive to your next birthday.”

“My next birthday is in less than two weeks.”

“And you are already chasing bad guys.” He groans as he leads me out of the aisle. “And you have taken over the position of peacekeeper. Everyone knows of your existence now.” He paces back and forth between the tables. “As a mortal, immortals would not touch you, but now? Now you are free game.”

I hop up on a table and watch him. I know I should be just as worried as he is. Chaos witches die. Period.

I don’t have to be a fool here. “How did Crowley and his mother die if they were immortal?”

He pauses, his feet shuffling on the floor. Those creepy eyes of his peer through me, and for a moment, his pale skin moves as though smoke exists just beneath the surface.

Unlike Jasper and the darkness beneath his skin, Bo’s is smoky and white.

Yin and yang.

I kind of want to be in the middle of a demon sandwich.

“Who says they died?” he asks after a few moments.

“Every history book ever,” I counter.

“Died in obscurity.” He blinks at me. “He died, yes. His mother however…”

“Is she a problem for me?”

“No one knows where or when she is.” Fluttering his hands, he adds, “She is the least of our problems right now. I’m bound to tell Jasper what you are.”

“Lie.”

“I will do no such thing.” He gapes at me. “He will know the truth because he wants to keep you alive.” I swear he mutters under his breath about not understanding why he wants to keep me alive. “Yet all the immortals of Philadelphia will know you are a witch.”

“So we have to give them something.” I shrug. He’s making it out to be a bigger deal than it is. The only ones I might have to worry about are the twins, and they are thousands of miles away, so no big deal there.

“Yes, but what is the problem,” he grumbles. “You’d never pass for a hedge witch of any kind.”

“I mean, I have jars of eyeballs.”

“Exactly.” He paces once more. “We could pass you off as a divination witch.”

“Ew, no, I can never remember which tarot card is which, and I can’t get through a single reading without using the little book.” I shake my head. That will never work.

“How are you with astrology?” He pauses his pacing to ask.

“I know where the north star is on most days.”

He whimpers as though this entire conversation is painful for him. “Gray witch.” He perks up. “It isn’t a perfect answer, but you would straddle the line of good and evil, and you are the current peacekeeper.”

“Justice?” I question, trying to remember what a gray witch is.

“You have seen the dead, correct?”

I shudder at the memory. “Not my fault. He dragged me into his residual haunting. Never again.”

“Spirit witch could work as well, yet they are often light witches. A gray witch is a spirit witch, just a little darker.” He hums to himself. “Yes, it will have to be gray.”

“You know I’m more inclined to shoot and ask questions later, right?”

“You’ll just have to be—” He waves his hands around me. “Not you.”

“Cruel.”

“Not as cruel as it would be if you don’t take the time to learn your magic and have someone find out just who you are and die.” He turns on a heel to face me, his confident posture showing he’s ready to tackle anything thrown at him. “You’ll have to find a way to color your magic.”

“Isn’t there like a death witch or something with dark magic?”

“There are far more light witches than dark, and none of them deal in death.”

“Necromancer?” He shakes his head before the word is even out of my mouth.

“Different species altogether.” He pauses. “You can be a dark witch and a green witch, but I need you to be unassuming and fit in with the work you will do as a peacekeeper.”

“So, if the five basic witches have elemental bases to them,” I say slowly, hoping I’m picking up what he is insinuating, “where does a chaos witch fall? Spirit?”

“None,” he intones. Nerves twist in my stomach. “A chaos which doesn’t fit into any of the elements or the kinds of witches that practice therein. You can pass as a spirit witch, so we will work with that.”

“Alright. So light and dark.” I return to the original lesson. “And then the five types.”

“Which are related to the elements but aren’t bound by them. Spirit is a cosmic or gray witch. Divination relies on air. Sea is rather obvious, don’t you think?” He hums in that professor’s way of his. “Green as well, and the kitchen is usually fire because of the reliance on fire. But like I said, many others fall into those basics. Think of the element first, then the type of witch next.”

“And a chaos witch is none of those?” I’m going to die.

“Correct.”

“So we keep me alive?” I ask hopefully.

“As a gray witch,” he reiterates. “We need to find your maternal grimoire. I guarantee now more than ever that Elspeth was a chaos witch.”

“And my dad?”

Bo stands as still as a statue, his eyes unblinking as he assesses me. “When did he die?”

Surprised, I take a full minute to answer him. “I was nine.”

“That isn’t an answer, Pepper.”

“You want to know how old he was.” That makes sense, right? “Thirty-two.”

“And until that moment, was your father ever sick? Did he so much as sneeze?” I know he’s helping me to work through whether my father was in any way a witch, but his questions still bring up uncomfortable moments from the past—namely, his wake.

“Yes, he had cancer a few years prior.” I close my eyes. He developed cancer after he turned twenty-seven. He had just had his first year with a clean bill of health when he tragically died.

“Then, Pepper, your father was no witch. He only carried the gene.” He must see something on my face, something I don’t want to address, because his following words surprise me. “I’m sorry, Pepper.”

“Yeah, me too.” I wiggle my nose, holding off the tears that always burn when I talk about my dad. “What next?”

“Next, we discuss your training schedule.” I groan as he speaks. “What now, child?”

“Look, Professor Bundt Cake—”

“Why, of all the insufferable creatures…” He clears his throat. “Yes?”

“I am a very busy lady. I have to decide what to do with my garage, among other jobs.” I tick off all the jobs I’ve been juggling over the last year or two. “My sex toy business” —I savor the blush that blooms across his face at that— “my sex line business, the potions I’ve been concocting, and now the bar.”

“Easy,” he states matter-of-factly. “Ask Jasper to man the garage. You’ll have to put the other unsavory businesses into retirement, and you must focus on the bar.”

“Must I?” I mock him.

“Yes, you must,” he mimics me, and I almost take it as a challenge. “That bar may seem like nothing much to you, however, the prior owners gave the immortals a place to hash out their grievances without threatening death. Therefore, their grievances didn’t spill out onto unsuspecting mortals.”

“The redcap told me I don’t get paid.”

Bo rolls his eyes at that. “Does the bar not bring in money?” he mutters. “Of all the things to worry about.”

“Hey, a girl needs to keep the lights on and enjoy a hot bath occasionally.” Offended, I tap a foot.

“You will spend your days off here, with me, starting after your birthday.” Under his breath, he mutters, “If you survive that long.”

“The full two days?” I whine.

“The full two days,” he purrs, and I want to stab him over it.

“Fine.” At least I have the rest of the week.

“You should stay here for your birthday,” he adds.

“I might have plans.” Plans that my family concocted and kept secret, but still plans. All work and no play will make for a very cranky Pepper.

“To survive,” he grumbles at me. “Now go. I’ve had enough of your insufferable whining.”

I stomp over to my skates and swipe them and my shoes up. “How am I supposed to pretend to be a gray witch without magic?”

“I’m sure your mouth will cover that problem.” He spins around to glare at me. There’s an amused smile on his face as he speaks. “Until next week.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I march to my closet door and spin around before I slam it in his face. When I reopen it, it’s to my small, homey kitchen.

My tranquil kitchen. It’s almost disorienting, but I savor it. No pixie dust flutters down from the ceiling, so Dede must be passed out from her sexual escapades.

The clock reads that it’s just past five. I have a few hours to myself before I come through on a promise to the sexiest voice on Earth, and that’s a date I plan to keep.

I deserve an evening of self-care.

Chapter 24

Pepper

Charged phone, check.

Candles sitting precariously around the edge of the bathtub, check.

A glass of wine, double check. I brought the entire bottle. Wine is a gal’s best friend in a pinch.

Lights dimmed, the window closed, and Dede passed out with a dick hangover in her dollhouse, super check. Once I gained my bearings, I worried about her and went to check on her, although I could have done without seeing naked pixie males scattered on the floor.

Once more, I lift my phone to check my messages and the time. The minute hand ticks closer to eight, and anticipation hums in my veins.

Earlier, when I got back, neither Nikko nor Jasper disturbed me. At all. Once again, a wash of disappointment flushes my cheeks. I shouldn’t feel disappointed that they didn’t run to me. Really, I should feel grateful, thankful even.

It’s a shame that I don’t.

My lips bleed from all the chewing I’ve given them. I can’t help it. I’m feeling some kind of way over them not visiting me or crashing through my door and acting all…

Ew, alpha.

Groaning, I sink deeper into the warm water, irritated with myself. I am a badass woman, and I don’t need an alpha male.

“Except…” Here we go. Let the self-talk commence. “I am a badass woman. I don’t need a man, and I sure as hell don’t need a partner. The only person I need in my life is me, myself, and all my toys.” I need to revise that statement. Pouting, I mutter, “I still want someone here.”

A moment later, my phone chirps. Taking one last sip of my wine, I set it to the side and grab the gadget. The screen reads Pepper’s Pleasures across the top. I use a dispatch company like all the other phone services, but now my favorite guy has my personal number.

I know, I know, it’s a red flag.

Haven’t we discussed this? I don’t make the best decisions. Ever.

Flipping the call to answer, I press the phone to my ear like the lifeline it is. “Hello.” Oh, look at me, full of excitement and need.

I hope to hell he is bringing his A game tonight.

“Would you like to accept a call from John Black?” I snort at the name the dispatcher utters. It isn’t his name, and even though I don’t know his true name, I just know it isn’t John.

No offense to all the Johns of the world, I just don’t like the name. It makes me want to go all homicidal on all of them. Yes, I know that is unreasonable, but I digress. “Yep.”

The call clicks over.

“Sparrow.” I nearly moan as he utters the pet name, and I can already feel my body heating at his voice. Damn I missed him.

“Hello, John.” I lift my glass of wine to my lips and take a long sip, letting the sangria burst over my taste buds.

“I hate that name,” he mutters, but he doesn’t give me his real name.

“Thanks for giving me the cash.” I almost feel bad at how much I’m charging him because, dammit, I like him. Sure, I don’t know much more about him than his sexy, silky voice, but I don’t need any more than that.

Since I returned to the city, I haven’t spent time on calls—I just didn’t have time—but the lines always gave me that extra cash in my pocket and allowed me to keep the lights on. At least they did before I told his call one fateful day.

Somewhere along the way, I grew attached to his voice, to him, and the smooth way he articulates his words in that even, calm cultured tone.

After his initial call, I felt terrible taking calls from others, almost as though I were cheating on him, so I stopped. Crazy, right? It’s just one more reason to put that job to the side. It was coming to this, even if Bo hadn’t told me to—even if his call is the only one I accept.

My sigh gusts over the line, causing crackling.

“You seemed out of sorts this past week.” There’s a question in his statement. “You still seem that way.”

“I am.” My fingers trail through the bubbles. They pop one by one, distracting my turbulent thoughts.

“Talk to me, Sparrow.”

“That isn’t why you called.” I also don’t want him to waste his money on just chatter. Even I see that he’s becoming more to me than anyone in the past.

“No, but your mind might need a moment to get out everything it’s overthinking.” He pauses. “You are overthinking, aren’t you, Sparrow?”

My lips crack when I bite down on them, causing blood to well and bead. “Always.” Here, with the door locked and the lights dimmed, I can give myself a moment to utter my truth.

Maybe it’s because he’s a stranger.

Maybe it’s because we have shared some dirty talk and orgasms that blow my mind. Either way, he’s easy to talk to. He’s always kind, gentle, and patient.

Why couldn’t he be my fated?

“Talk to me.” His voice stays low, deep, and even.

“My world turned upside down,” I admit. “Everything I thought I knew is meaningless because I don’t know a damn thing. I used to think I knew exactly what I wanted out of life and who I wanted to be. Hell, I even knew where I wanted to live. Everything feels backward and wrong.” I pause, preparing to admit what I probably wouldn’t tell anyone else. “But where I am now also feels right, like I could finally thrive, and that scares me most of all.”

He hums. Every time he speaks, it’s like I’ve put on my favorite porn site and searched sexy ASMR. “Often, where we believe our path lies is the wrong path. The right one is the path we stumble onto, the one we don’t see,” he says gently, calming me further. “Wherever you have found yourself, especially if it was by accident, is where you were meant to land.”

I hum, rolling his words around in my head. “I’ve done some shitty things in the past.”

“Leave it there,” he replies.

“Leave what where?”

“Leave your mistakes in the past. There’s no place for them here in the present. They don’t belong here.” There’s an edge to his voice, as though his words aren’t just for me but also a reminder to him.

“How are you?” I ask him, even though I know, just like always, he will deflect. He never gives me insight into his real name, where he lives, and what he does. All we ever talk about is me, or, well, he talks me through the most intense orgasms of my life.

“Ah-ah,” he teases. “I know what you are doing.”

“What’s that?” I lay my hand on my stomach, feeling my fingertips glide across my soft skin.

“You are trying to distract me.” His breath spills over the phone, and I close my eyes, tilting my head back and wondering what it would feel like against my skin. If I allow myself, I can almost feel his touch in place of mine.

“I would never do that.”

“Oh, my sparrow, you would.” He gives me a little moan. “You want a distraction, don’t you?”

“Yes.” My voice becomes breathy and broken. I want nothing more than a distraction, one led by him and his voice. Sinking deeper into the bath, I allow my legs to rest against the tub’s sides as I await his words with bated breath.

“Where are you?” On his side, I hear fabric rustle and a spring creak. I imagine him sitting down in a chair, one of those big, fancy regal ones.

“In the bath,” I whisper to him.

“Touching yourself already?”

I swallow, because even that has me on edge. It’s him. It’s just him, his voice, and the way he chooses his words carefully, as though I’m his sole focus and each word is crafted just for me.

He makes me feel special, which is immediately sullied because I’m getting paid for this call. My eyes spring open, and I pull the phone away from my ear, irritation humming through me. I slam my finger down on the end call button.

Before he can call me back, I find him in my contacts, Delicious Devil, and call him right back.

“Sparrow,” he begins, and I know he’s about to chastise me.

I cut him off. “Don’t. You and I both know this is something different now.”

“It cannot be anything other than what it started out as.”

I snort. “Story of my fucking life.”

“What do you mean by that?” he prompts.

“Every man I’ve ever loved.” I know how it sounds, but I rush to rectify that Freudian slip. “Or every man I’ve ever had any interest in can’t be more than anything for me. I’ve been friend zoned so often it hurts, so spare me the rules on what this can and cannot be. I already know. I’m highly aware.”

“Sparrow…” His voice turns softer.

“I haven’t had a client other than you for months.” There, it’s out in the universe, and he can do with it what he will. It’s my truth.

“You have feelings for me.” It’s a statement, though there is no surprise in his voice. No, he almost sounds pleased.

“Yeah, I do.”

“So you won’t allow me to pay you for this call.” Again, he sounds far too pleased with himself.

“I can’t keep calling you John either. I hate that name.”

He chuckles, and it’s as though everything inside of me just feels right. “I cannot be a boyfriend.” He’s unsure of the word, as though it doesn’t feel right on his tongue—a tongue I want to feel against my skin.

“Don’t label it.” I’ve dealt with enough labeling bullshit from the Fates, like the word mate, which I should forever expunge from my vocabulary.

It’s a shit thing to do to immortals if you ask me, giving them fated mates that might not want you.

“Alright. I won’t label this or the calls. But, Sparrow, I want something from you as well.” His voice deepens just so. “I want your orgasms tonight, and I want you to scream for me.”

“Ask nicely.”

We both damn well know that was him asking nicely.

His chuckle rolls over the line, over my body, and sinks beneath my skin. “Close your eyes, Sparrow.” He gives me a minute to do just that. “Are they closed?”

“Yes.” I squeeze my eyes shut, blowing out a desperate breath for him to continue.

“Good girl. I want you to feel like I’m there, and it’s just the two of us in your bathroom.” Once again, he gives me a moment to digest his words. “No one else in the world but us.”

Wouldn’t that be nice?

“Are you already touching yourself, Sparrow?”

“What?” I squeak as I run a hand over a nipple. “No.”

“Liar. I give you permission. This moment is about you, and I want you to feel good,” he purrs. “Touch your nipples. Feel how sensitive they are.”

My breath stutters out as my fingertips lightly graze over one stiff peak.

“Can you come from just touching your nipples, Sparrow?”

“No,” I admit.

“What if those were my fingers touching you and grazing your pink nipples? What if it were me hovering over you with my mouth wrapped around the little nub?” His breath crackles the line.

“I want that.”

“Twist your nipple for me, Sparrow, the way my teeth would bite down,” he demands. “I wouldn’t be gentle.”

I do as he says, letting my fingers twist and pluck. My body twitches in the bathtub, the water gently sloshing against the porcelain edges.

“Moan for me, Sparrow,” he urges. The telltale sound of a zipper opening echoes over the line, sending a shiver dancing across my flesh. “Let me know how much you want me.”

A breathy moan slips past my lips as I twist my nipples a little harder until I feel a bite of pain that zings straight to my clit.

“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” He groans, and I can almost picture him in his chair with his thighs spread and his cock standing at attention.

My mouth waters at the thought.

Putting on my best sexy voice, I ask, “Are you hard for me?”

“As soon as I heard your voice, my cock turned to steel.” He hums in approval. “Do you want to taste me, Sparrow?”

“I bet you taste like salt and spices.” I twitch, feeling my body burn with need.

“Are you wet for me, Pepper?” he asks.

“Do you want me to find out?” I trail my fingers down my stomach, beneath the water, and below the surface.

“Did I say you could touch your pussy?” he asks with a thread of command that has my entire body twisting in the tub.

I hold my hand still, refusing to touch what I so desperately need to. My hand rests just over my mound, the heat of my pussy brushing along my palm.

“No,” I answer.

Humming his approval, he says, “Rub the outside of your pussy, Sparrow. Feel yourself growing wet for me.”

With two fingers, I skirt around my clit, feeling wetter and wetter, only for the water to wash it away. I flick the stopper out of the tub to allow it to drain. As the water recedes, my skin cools, the contrast sharp against the heat of touching myself.

“Draining the water so soon?” he teases. “Are you that desperate for me?”

“It’s been too long.” I’m soaked. Sticky slick coats my hand as the water swirls down the drain. “I’m not going to last.”

“Good thing I won’t either.” He pauses. “We will just have to spend the rest of the night on the phone. How many times can you come, Sparrow?”

For him? There really is no telling.

A slam rocks the house downstairs, and I groan at the interruption.

“What is it?” he demands, instantly knowing something is off.

“I don’t know.” No way am I going to tell him that I want to stop, because I don’t. All I need is for him to say a few filthy words, and I’ll go off like a firework. “I locked the door.”

“How fast can you come for me?” he mutters urgently. “Touch your clit.”

My fingers brush along the swollen nub, and my back arches against the tub. “So close.”

“Good girl,” he purrs. “Imagine I’m between your legs, licking your slit and not leaving any part untouched.”

Easier said than done because I don’t know what he looks like, but when I look down, I picture Jasper between my legs, fucking me with his tongue without restraint or heeding my need to go slower. No, he takes what he wants and demands my body follow those commands.

My breath heaves as the noises outside the door grow louder.

Screw them. This is my time.

I moan long and low, letting whoever it is know I am busy.

“What a show you’re putting on.” I almost forgot I was on the phone. Guilt rises inside me for picturing Jasper when I’m on the phone with him.

There is no stopping the scene now.

I can almost feel him behind me, his cock resting between my ass cheeks, while Jasper licks me clean.

A knock slams on the bathroom door. “I know what you are doing in there, baby witch.” Hearing Jasper’s voice only makes my fingers move faster.

“Does the thought of getting caught turn you on, Sparrow?” I clench the phone harder at his words.

“Yes.” I exhale.

“Is she…” Nikko’s voice gives me that sense of exhibitionism I didn’t know I had.

“Do you want them to watch you?” he teases, his voice breaking as his desire deepens. “Do you want them to touch you while I watch?”

“Are you going to come, my devious witch?” Jasper coos through the door.

I can hear a tinkering sound, as though they are picking the lock.

My eyes flick open. “I think they are breaking in.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Wait until they enter and then come. Not a moment before.”

The bathtub sits directly across from the door. It doesn’t take much for me to adjust to peer at the door. My hand stills, but my body trembles.

Am I about to do this?

“Don’t second-guess yourself,” he demands. “Wait.” A moan rushes over the line.

“Dude, give her a moment,” Nik argues, and I can almost picture his panicked expression.

“No,” Jasper says simply. He almost has the door open.

My fingers strum my clit, sweeping over the bud then inside my core, pulling my arousal out before spreading it over my lips and clit. I repeat the circuit again and again.

The door opens, and it creaks in the bathroom, causing the sound to echo all around me.

“Come.” The demand is complex over the phone.

Jasper and Nikko stumble into the bathroom. My eyes lock with Jasper’s, and ecstasy washes over me.

The phone tumbles to the floor, my back arches as my body spasms, and lightning courses through me.

I can’t even see the guys as my body twitches and twists and I milk that orgasm for all it’s worth.

Moments pass, and the only sound in the small bathroom is my breathing. Ever so slowly, Jasper crouches, picks up the phone, and mutters, “She’ll call you back,” before he hangs up.

Behind him, Nikko has a hand over his mouth, his other hand clenched into a tight fist as he devours me with his eyes.

That is how I want a man to look at me—as though I’m not just dessert but the whole fucking buffet.

“Are you finished?” Jasper asks with a haughty tone.

“I believe I am,” I counter, not feeling an ounce of shame.

“Good, we have work to do.” Jasper leans in, his dark eyes consuming me. “And Pepper, call me next time you need to get off.”

I scoff.

“Otherwise, I’ll spank that luscious ass of yours until it’s red and your pussy drips with need, and all you can do is beg for my cock.” He pulls away with a wink. “Then I’ll deny you for fucking hours.”

And just like that, I’m ready for round two.

Chapter 25

Jasper

Dripping wet in every delicious, salacious way, the woman who haunts my wet dreams stands in front of me without an ounce of shame. Pepper’s arousal smells like custard, and I am a ravenous demon.

“Do you mind?” She glares at me as she steps out of the bathtub—probably because I’m holding her towel hostage.

“Jasper.” Nikko is about to bust a nut in those tight pants of his. I kind of want to see that. Alas, he isn’t wrong. “We don’t have time for this.”

“You found him.” The statement is from my delicious little witch.

“Jasper.” Nik groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

He is quite the gentleman, though I bet he’d devour Pepper with a hunger he’s suppressed for years. It’s a shame the timing is all wrong.

I can still taste her on my tongue, which will have to hold me over for a little while at least.

I snap the towel out and hold it open for Pepper to step into. She hesitates for a moment before I wrap her up like a burrito and twirl her toward me. Shivers race across her skin as I lean down and lick a tempting droplet of water off her neck.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you were on the phone, you little minx.”

“Minx.” She huffs and steps away. “That’s a new one.” Pushing past us, she steps out of the stifling bathroom and into the hall, her tempting little ass swaying as she goes.

The damn thing has its own rhythm.

“You have five minutes,” I shout, “or I’m coming up there to help.”

“Jasper.” Nikko drops his hands and walks out of the bathroom. His heavy footfalls land on the steps far too dramatically, causing the pictures to shake.

“Yes, Robocop?” I follow behind him, damn near skipping down the steps.

“Don’t call me that.”

What other cops have I learned about over the years from the wonderful world of Hollywood? I’m sure there are more I can call him. Paul Blart? I hum the theme song for Bad Boys, and that earns me a glare. “Whatcha gonna do?” I jump down the last few steps.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He glares at me. “Why are you so excited?”

I just smile at him and flip my hoodie up. My shadows caress me like I want Pepper’s fingers to.

Nikko groans at me and hangs his head. “No.” He clenches his fists. “We had an agreement. No bloodshed.”

I pout for his benefit. He hasn’t learned that I will lie to him to get what I want, and I have zero intention of listening to him. I’m going to fuck some shit up tonight. Blood splatter, gore, all the guts, everything.

“I mean it, Jasper,” he growls at me.

I almost mock him, but somehow, I refrain.

“Mean what?” Pepper’s footfalls creak on the stairs as she makes her way down. Her scent wraps around me like a cloud. She’s like tiramisu after the best meal.

“Him.” Nikko points to him. “Keep him in line.”

I ignore him because the fresh breath of air before me cocks a hip, and then one delicate hand drums along her tight leather pants. Thin knives are strapped to her thick thighs, making me want to beg her to cut me, yet it’s the corset that makes me want to drown in her essence.

Her tits look like tempting melons.

I hum at her and step toward the stairs, only for her to lift a boot and press it against my chest. “No,” she growls at me like I’m a dog, and the noise goes straight to my cock. “What’s wrong with him?” she asks Nikko.

“My guess? He is excited to kill someone.”

“That’s fucked up, Jasper.” She pushes off of me and comes down the last few steps. “What’s the plan?”

“Your boy, the one you’ve been looking for” —Nikko hooks a thumb at me before dragging his hands down his face— “was spotted on South Street by another daemon he has monitoring the street cams.”

“Where and when?” Pepper goes on alert.

“You.” Nikko points at her. “You are the driver. You stick to the car and stay out of harm’s way.” He’s so serious it’s comical.

“Like hell,” she scoffs and pushes past him.

I should intervene. Naturally, I let Nikko dig himself a hole just because I’m curious about how this is going to end—not well for him, that is for damn sure.

Nikko grabs her arm and swings her around as she tries to walk past. “Conejita. Please.” His accent thickens. I wonder where he is from. Have I been there? “You have no magic right now.”

Something crosses her face before she shuts down completely.

“How were your lessons, minx?”

She doesn’t answer and jerks her arm out of Nikko’s hold. “I’m not without abilities. I can take care of myself.”

“With your throwing knives?”

“You are suffocating me, Nik.” She marches to the door, and I already know what she will do before she grabs her keys, which I hold and toss across the room.

“The hell, Jasper?” She rounds on me.

“In the car,” I order. She’s smart enough to know I am not screwing around with her right now. Besides, we are wasting time, and I’ve got a dickhead to kill.

Torture first. I just need to get to him.

Her lips thin, and her nostrils flare. Damn, she is beautiful. She is probably still mad at me for tying her up, even though she came apart on my fingers. Women can hold grudges. Pepper will probably hold this against me for a long time.

“I’m driving.” I skip out the door with Nikko trailing behind me. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” They don’t answer. No matter, I’m not looking for one anyway.

“Jasper, when did you steal my keys?” Nikko asks, patting himself down. We are going to need his fancy unmarked car for this.

“When you were trying not to spill your seed in your jeans,” I quip and rush to the car before he can tackle me and keep me from climbing into the driver’s seat. “Time is ticking. Let’s go, squad.”

“Why is he like this?” Nikko mutters.

“I’m in the back.” Pepper slides into the back and sits in the center. A small divider separates us, but she doesn’t seem at all disturbed by it.

“Seat belt, mortal.”

She mocks me but puts the seat belt on anyway, and Nikko slams the car door shut. While they were pouting, I was busy hooking my phone to Bluetooth.

I hit dial on Van. I already paged him, so he should be in one of the armories to answer my call. The library surprisingly has reception. There is also a landline, but he won’t tell me who that reaches.

“What?” He is such a grouch.

“We found the guy,” I tell him. Tonight, Van is playing backup. “Did you find anything out for me?”

“Nothing worthwhile.” He sighs. It’s a tell. He’s always irritated at the damn world. I would be too if I couldn’t leave a library or any of his armories. Sucks to be him.

I bet his right hand is stronger than his left. If you know, you know.

“What did you find?” I ask, a little exasperated with him.

“The deceased was null and void,” Van mutters. “As in, these bodies were immortals, yes?”

I run my tongue over my teeth as I speed toward Center City. “Shifter and maybe a vampire.”

“Correct, but it is a faint scent,” Van grumbles as though the thought of even touching a vampire is abhorrent to him. It probably is. “Even in death, they should still have something of who they were.”

“Bo, baby,” Pepper interrupts from the back seat.

Nikko glances at me, and I give him a shrug.

“Yes, my incessant ward?”

“Look, Bobo,” she says, and I can imagine his visible shudder, “is there anything on the terror feeling?”

“Actually, yes.” His voice lifts in interest. “The medulla oblongata.”

“His dick?” I cut in, knowing damn well that has nothing to do with his dick.

“As I was saying, the medulla oblongata is the part of the brain that controls vital processes such as the heartbeat, breathing, and blood pressure. For immortals, this also controls healing. It allows immortals to kick the healing up a notch by increasing heart rate and thus blood flow, deeper breathing, and stabilizing the blood pressure, so the immortal doesn’t overtax their system. Of course, rest is imperative.”

“Professor,” Pepper sings, “the point?”

“Yes, well, I would assume that your less developed mortal brain wouldn’t be able to understand something as complex as the organ doing the thinking.” Van’s irritation comes through loud and clear.

I look at Pepper in the back, who’s smiling like a loon. I tilt my head to the side. She is enjoying this. Interesting.

“Yes, Bobo, we know I am stupid.” She draws the word out as though it’s a long syllable. “Please school me, oh smart one.”

“Yes, well, it was dusted.”

“Dusted?” I interrupt.

“Dios.” Nikko turns in his seat. “Terror. It shut his whole system down by overloading it.”

“The cop would be correct,” Van murmurs. I can tell he already likes him better than me. I should feel offended, but I don’t.

Moving on. “Anything else?”

“Yes, don’t take the drug.”

“I’m hanging up on you now.” I silence the other daemon as I speed through the streets, getting closer to Jersey.

“What’s the game plan?” Pepper asks from the back seat.

Truth be told, I don’t have one. “My guess is he’s on his way toward the clubs. That’s why he was at the skating rink earlier.”

“Go in, disable him, and get out.” She nods to herself, and I bite back a smile as Nikko groans beside me. She didn’t go into detail about how we should disable him. “How big is this trunk?”

“Absolutely not. No way, Pepper. I mean it.” Nikko turns in his seat, irritation bleeding off of him in waves.

“It would be serendipitous, wouldn’t it, Jasper?”

“Like the night you first saw my face?” I glance at her in the rearview mirror. Her painted lips draw my eyes. The black shade sends desire straight to my cock, and the gloss she has over them makes her lips look like a galaxy.

“Jasper!” Nikko shouts. “Watch out!”

“Ah, yeah, the road.” I jerk the wheel, moving us back into our lane. “We must keep the mortal alive.”

“Thank you,” Nikko says, although he’s holding onto the oh shit handle.

“Not you.” I swing into a small parking lot and maneuver the car into a spot. “There’s a club we just passed with a line out the door. We head there first.” I climb out of the car and then snap my fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot.” I lean down and shake out cuffs.

“If you ever want access to this,” she warns and scrambles back. I grab her ankle and yank her close before she can get away. Quickly, I cuff her wrist to the bar attached to the back seat. “I hate you.” She doesn’t scream and yell. In fact, she’s scarily calm. “Why even bring me?”

Nikko turns around, looking directly into her eyes. “Because you’re the peacekeeper. We just need you to acknowledge that we are working on your behalf to keep dangerous drugs off the streets.”

“On my behalf?” She chuckles and presses against the bar. “Kiss me, Nikko.”

“That’s our cue.” I slam the door and walk around. Nikko is debating giving her a kiss, so I yank him out of the car and slam the door.

“Why did she—”

“She wanted to incapacitate you.” I slap him on the back and lead him toward an alley. The scent of piss wafts to me, and a trash panda scurries out of a dumpster.

“How?”

“Her lipstick.”

“What?” He damn near stumbles.

Such a naïve mortal. “Poison lipstick,” I say slowly, hoping he gets the hint. “Now let’s go.” I leave him with his mouth agape, and his jaw snaps shut with a click.

I love the sting of her bite.

Finally coming back to his senses, he glances over his shoulder. “We never should have picked her up.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” I side-eye him. “Look.” I pause at the lip of the alley. “She needs to know what’s going on, but it doesn’t mean she needs to involve herself. At least not until she’s immortal.”

Something flashes across his face. If I were a betting man, I would say this mortal is in love with her. It’ll never work. He will die, and she will have to watch him die.

That is the way of our world. It’s why they cannot know who and what we are. It will break them every damn time.

With a nod, he walks once more.

“Alright, if you were dealing a drug that would incite terror in a bunch of unsuspecting peons, where would you go?” I’m mostly talking to myself and don’t expect an answer.

Nikko, however, answers. “Smoking door.” He jerks his head. “I know which club you’re talking about. I’ve busted dealers lingering there often enough.”

“Noted.”

We creep around the side of the building and pause. The bass thumps heavily from inside, rattling the windows, and the rush of cars sends headlights flashing down the alley.

Although it’s only a little past eight in the evening, the partygoers know that if they get here early, they get a chance to head inside. There are nights when the line wraps around the building, into this alley, and beyond the side street.

We head toward the back of the building and that very side street. Nikko presses a finger to his lips and glances back at me. His dark eyes almost appear demonic.

The darkness inside of him, which he hides from the rest of the world, calls to me. He can’t hide that darkness from one such as me, however, and it causes a hunger within me to awaken.

Nikko is a good man, probably one of the best I’ve ever met, especially in a mortal, yet there is something that clings to him I want to explore, taste, and devour.

He shakes his head at me, giving me a questioning look. The smile I give him is all Cheshire Cat and intrigue. Nikko is interesting, his secrets are interesting, and I want a taste.

Pushing him to the side, I peer over his shoulder. Three men and one woman stand in the alley, the red of their cigarettes burning in the space between, and their laughter echoes all around them.

Not one of them is the asshole I’ve been searching for.

“He isn’t there.” I step around Nikko and saunter down the alley, acting like I belong there.

“Yo, man,” a guy calls, stepping in front of the others. He’s wearing a long black cloak, and a ghost mask rests on his back.

Oh yes, I look a bit… scary.

Flipping my hoodie down, I stare at the four of them. The woman takes a small step back as her eyes land on mine, and her fear permeates the air around her.

A moment ago, she was fine being surrounded by three men. It is us she fears.

I hold my hands up, hoping I look a little less intimidating. “I have just a small question.” See? I sound nice.

Nikko places a hand on my shoulder and steps up beside me. “Did a man approach you offering a drug in a gold foil packet?”

“Ain’t no one offering us condoms, man,” a taller man in a dark leather jacket answers. He takes a long drag on his smoke while shaking his head. “You, though, you are one scary motherfucker.”

I am. “Thank you.” I nod to them and guide Nikko to the front of the building.

“That’s it?”

“We ask the bouncer.”

“We could just go to the club,” he offers.

Scoffing, I step out onto the sidewalk. “No reason to. They weren’t lying, I didn’t smell a hint of deceit, and the bouncer sees everyone who enters.”

“You can smell—” He throws his hands up. “Don’t want to know.”

“You smell like secrets and faintly of a desert.” I snap my fingers. That’s what I’m picking up from him, the arid scent of a desert. “I should have known that.”

“Yeah, spend a few hours in a desert, and you’d permanently smell like hell as well.” He pushes past me to reach the bouncer first. “Detective Perez.” He flashes his badge, but he’s talking to a damn shifter, so he will get nowhere with this man.

Naturally, I step up beside Nikko and smile. That gets his attention. Tall and built like a brick house, the bouncer glares at the line before him. Dozens of people line up on the sidewalk on a Wednesday night dressed in various costumes. Looks like Halloween is all month. Pepper would love that.

“You with him?” the bouncer questions.

“Define with?” I wink. “Yes, yes I am.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks Nikko, who just stares at me over his shoulder.

“We are looking for a man, mid-thirties, white, brown hair, and shifty.” Nikko does his cop thing and fails.

The bouncer laughs. “You just described every man in this club. Try again.” He shakes his head while laughing at him. “Shit, man.”

“He’s dealing a drug with magical components,” I tack on.

“Now, shadow” —he eyes me up and down. I never show my face, so it’s interesting he knows just who I am— “see those wards?”

I look at the door and read the sigils to keep all drugs from the building. Anyone in line with a joint on them would naturally just turn away. “Thank you.” I nod and head back down the street.

“You’re just going to take his word for it?” Nikko asks in disbelief.

“You need to learn how to read wards,” I counter. Maybe I’ll teach him. “No one with drugs will even go near those doors. He isn’t in there. Van was wrong.” Van searched through all the downtown cameras and swore he picked him up here, but it couldn’t have been him. “Let’s get back to the kitty.”

“She’s going to stab you one of these days if you keep giving her pet names.”

“I do hope so.” I chuckle and glance at Nikko. “Foreplay.”

“You’re sick.”

“I like what I like.” In fact, just picturing Pepper’s wrath from being locked in the car excites something inside me.

We round the corner and jog back to the car. Nikko reaches the driver’s door first. “Keys!”

He isn’t getting them. “Wait.” I peer through the window. “She’s gone.”

“What?” Nikko shrieks. “Impossible. You cuffed her to the bar. The bar is still there, completely intact.”

“Possible.” I look around us. “She’s Pepper.”

“Where did she go?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” I turn and smirk at Nikko. “Now we hunt both of them.”

“Dammit, I just want to go home and sleep for a week straight,” he mutters.

I chuckle as we head back to South Street. We have a rogue witch to hunt down, and I do so love a good chase.

Chapter 26

Pepper

Castration. Chastity belts. Iron maiden. Breaking wheel.

It doesn’t matter how many times I run through all the ways one could torture another in medieval times, it doesn’t change my current predicament—handcuffed to a damn seat in an unmarked cop car.

How dare they?

“Well, well, well.” Buzzing flutters in my ear before Dede sits her little butt on the bar of my nightmares.

“Dede!” Elation rushes through me a moment before I squint my eyes at her, silently demanding she focus on me. “How long have you been in here?”

“Long enough, baby spice, long enough.” Amusement spills out of her in the form of purple pixie dust. One sharp brow rises as she blinks and looks at me from head to toe.

“You look well satisfied.” How do I play this? Compliment her until she gets me out of these cuffs? Negotiate? What will appease a pixie?

“That I am.” She sighs wistfully, her little cheeks heating and her iridescent wings buzzing.

“Any potential suitors?”

“Listen, baby spice.” She brushes invisible lint from her hot pink outfit, a pleather mini skirt and sports bra. I can’t decide if this was clubbing Barbie or sporty Barbie, because that skirt has shorts underneath. “There is no male in this world or any other than can lock all of this” —her hands glide down her body as she shimmies— “down.”

“I saw at least a dozen male pixies lying around the dollhouse, and not one in your bed.” Okay, so I’m appeasing her to see if I can get her to release me.

“Of course you did.” She snorts and spills black glitter. “I used them up and locked them out.”

“Cold.” I bite my lip.

“It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done.” She waves her hands at the cuffs. “What have you been up to?”

“Well, the date didn’t go so well.” I’d rather just leave it at that, so I set my jaw to prove I won’t say any more.

“Kinky.”

“Not in the fun way.” Plus, Jasper has a real knife fetish, and I’m not sure I even want to dive into that kink, though I am curious. Some of those handles looked suspiciously like dildos.

“Do you need help?” She blinks at me as though her question has any other answer than yes.

“Obvious, isn’t it?” I flutter my lashes at her, wondering how long she will draw this out.

“It is. First, give me the rundown.” She stands on the bar like a damn gymnast or trapeze artist, though I suspect her wings give her all the grace I’ll never have.

“Remember the night Jasper entered the bar?”

“Yep, he talked to me,” she grumbles under her breath. “I should have known then he’d be a problem. Any big creature who can understand me is a problem.”

“I can understand you.”

“Exactly.” She blinks at me with an innocence the pixie does not possess.

“Anyway, that guy is dead.”

“There were two.”

“The second is the guy we are hunting down.”

“Why?”

That is the important question, isn’t it? “Dead guy had packets of the drug on him. One might deduce that the other guy knew about that. Plus, he saw Jasper’s face, and apparently, Jasper doesn’t like that.”

“Ew, self-righteous prick.”

“Right now, I’m not about to disagree.” I blow my bangs out of my eyes.

“After this, we will have to discuss your unhealthy relationships with men.” She places her little hands on her slim hips and taps her foot. I’m about to open my mouth and argue when she buzzes up to my nose, causing me to go all cross-eyed. “The twins? You have daddy issues, baby spice, and when they left like the adults they were, you concocted a potion that is slowly eating away at your emotions.” She presses a finger to my lips. “Nikko? More daddy issues. The man saves you once, and you latch onto him like a spider monkey. Jasper? The bad boy trope? Really?” She snorts like that’s a problem. “And last, don’t think I didn’t hear your spicy call. You are emotionally available to him because you don’t have to see him face-to-face.”

“That was harsh.”

“And the truth.” She harrumphs. “Listen, I love you, witchy poo, and I get wanting to be independent and not allowing fate to decide who you end up with, but in our world, fate throws those people in our way to help us advance, to teach us love and loss.” She finally begins working on the cuffs in the form of pixie dust. “Mark my words. Regardless of you knowing who your mates are, they will find you.”

The cuffs break free, and I release a heavy exhale. “Th—”

“Don’t you dare,” she hisses.

“I regret you,” I answer instead, earning a smile from her.

“Good.” She nods and buzzes to the window, tapping on the glass. “Are we locked in?”

“Doubtful.” I try the handle, finding it blessedly unlocked.

“Stupid,” Dede mutters before buzzing out into the night. “Game plan? Smash and grab? Kill first, ask questions later?”

I grab the cuffs and hook them on my thigh holster. Good thing it’s close to Halloween. I’ll look like just another young adult dressed up to party. “Problem.” I glance around, knowing I can confess to Dede what Bo told me never to disclose to anyone. Sensing this is about to be some good drama, she buzzes closer. “I know what my magic is.”

“Tell me now!” she shrieks before glancing around. Luckily, we are alone in the darkened parking lot.

I nod. “Chaos magic,” I tell her as quietly as I can, knowing she will hear me.

Her face falls, and she buzzes backward. Dark glitter spills from her wings, and all the color drains from her face.

“What?” she whispers, making my stomach turn. Did I miscalculate? I know I can trust her. I’ve always been able to trust my companion. “Shit,” she adds a moment before she gives me a curt nod. “We tell no one, do you hear me?” She buzzes close, brandishing a small weapon she holds to my nose. “No one.”

“Got it. My new defense against the dark arts teacher told me to claim I’m a gray witch.”

“That will work well.” She pauses then cocks her head. “Who?”

“I’ll explain that shit show later. Bottom line, a couple of daemons magically castrated me.” A fact that still annoys me.

She literally laughs at me with big, gulping guffaws. “Oh my,” she wheezes. “That’s adorable.”

I slam the door shut, ready to take her ass out. My boots clap on the asphalt as I walk toward the club with purpose, only to pause as she continues to laugh at me.

“Oh, you’re mad.” She buzzes in front of my face. “Big mad.” She smacks my nose with her little sword, making me pause. “Listen, baby spice, because I’m only going to say this once.”

“You laughed at me.” I pout and cross my arms. Usually, I’d let that shit slide, but not having access to my magic makes me grouchy. Sure, I didn’t know exactly what I was doing with it, but it was mine, and that is all that matters.

“Get over it.” Cold, heartless pixie. “Your magic” —she glances around— “has no rules, no barriers. Nothing can hold it. Get what I’m saying?”

“Wait, are you telling me I—”

“Shh.” She taps my nose again. “In a pinch, you can break those chains. Nothing can hold chaos,” she whispers on an exhale.

Relief spills through me so fast I sway just a fraction. “Alright, so Professor Bobo said he caught our bad guy on a street cam heading toward that club.” Or something like that. “I say we parkour our asses to the top.”

“I’ll look for a way in.” She winks and takes off, appearing like nothing more than a bat at twilight. Working with the guys is fun and all, but nothing, and I mean nothing compares to working with Dede. We just fit. Sure, we argue like siblings and are vastly different sizes, but she is the best cohort a witch could ever ask for.

I eye the building laid out before me. The guys more than likely went the door route, thinking the easiest way is the simplest move.

I will not do that.

I also don’t want to draw attention to myself. The club has rooftop access, a garden of sorts, and I want to get up there without entering the building.

Moments later, Dede buzzes back. “Too easy.” She shakes her head in disappointment. “There’s a fire escape on the neighboring building facing the back of another big-ass building that serves no purpose. Really, what is with you mortals and concrete giants?” She leads the way with precise movements, though her words trigger something else I need to talk to her about.

“Did you know?” I ask almost accusingly as she leads me to the fire escape, and I yank it down while avoiding eye contact.

“Know what?” She perches above me.

As I climb, I utter what Jasper told me. “That I’m mortal, at least for now.”

“You didn’t know that?” She frowns at me as though this should have been common knowledge.

“Obviously not.” I continue to climb. Rust digs into my hands, breaking through calluses with their vile, chipped edges. “I feel stupid that everyone knew but me.”

“You got caught up in the magic of it all, with Sabina becoming immortal and then Nessa.” She’s right. I just assumed that was where my fate would lead me. “Ash is mortal too, by the way, in case you didn’t know.”

“I gathered that.” I grunt as I roll onto a ledge about three stories up. One more to go. “Now I have to make it to twenty-sevenish and not die.”

“Oh yeah, the time jump.” She flutters above me. “You know it doesn’t matter, right?”

I startle a little and almost slip. “How is that possible?”

“Being in Themyscira aged you, yes, but it doesn’t alter the astrology of Earth.” She jumps rungs as I climb.

“So my body is older, but me nearing immortality doesn’t matter because I’m from here and not Themyscira?” Dammit, was it too much to hope for?

“Yep.” She sits on the ledge of the roof. “When Saturn returns, it gifts you with the magic of immortality. The stars align,” she says with a whimsical voice, “and all that astrology bullshit. You still have three years, baby spice.”

“Shit.” That’s a problem. How will I survive three years in this world as a chaos witch and not die? “That’s a Pepper problem for tomorrow. Today we get a bad guy.” Excitement lights up her eyes. “Do you remember what he looks like?” I whisper as I creep over the edge and roll behind a large potted plant.

“On it.” She takes off, leaving me there on the rooftop bar. It’s one of my favorites, and I enjoy coming here on nonofficial business just to drink and people watch. From here, it looks like they are running a Halloween event, which makes me miss the holiday.

I haven’t been able to enjoy it in years, and that’s probably why my cousins insisted on celebrating my birthday this year.

Dusting my hands, I act like I belong and walk out from behind the plants. No one pays me a lick of attention. Mismatched seating covers the roof of the bar, as though the owner picked up tables that people set out for trash and refinished them. Some have new stains, and others are painted in greens and rustic oranges. Large plants litter the area in between to create the illusion of privacy.

At the other end of the roof is a bar, and between here and there are little cove-like spaces where people can order food. Tacos scent the air with spices that make my mouth water, reminding me that I have no idea when I ate last.

Dede won’t be able to fly down to me and let me know where our guy is if he is up here, so I back into a corner, trying to look as unassuming as I can with knives strapped to my thighs.

Jealousy hums through me as I look at the groups of friends laughing and having a good time. Their carefree nature spills from one cluster to another as they mingle and spark up conversations.

What are they talking about that makes them smile like that?

They make socializing look so effortless, as though they don’t have an ounce of anxiety talking to a stranger. Not only that, but they are thriving and having fun in ways I only dream of.

“Alright.” Dede’s voice startles me out of my observations. “I think I’ve got him. He’s in a VIP lounge, but don’t worry.” I glance at her as she drops a pass onto my outstretched hands. “I’ve already dusted the bouncer, so he will be amiable.”

“Dede, we talked about you dusting people.”

“I’ve done what needs to be done.” She huffs. “Now go before it wears off. One level down.”

As she takes off, I head toward the staircase. Even here, people mingle and flirt, their faces flushed with alcohol. I hurry to the next floor and out the door. Bass booms in my ears, startling me for a moment before I weave around dancers lingering by a railing that allows for viewing of the dance floor below. Ahead, I see the bouncer holding a thick velvet rope that leads to the VIP lounge with heavy curtains beyond, sequestering booths for privacy.

It makes me feel all kinds of icky.

I approach the bouncer, who looks at me with glazed eyes. I’d feel bad, but Dede has dusted me on more than one occasion—usually when she wants me to shut up. It feels as though I am trying to wake up from a dream and I can’t. He’s got about five minutes before it wears off, and he’ll be fine.

I flash him my pass, and without an ounce of hesitation, he lets me through. Rushing past him, I hustle up the steps as the scent of sweat builds in the air.

“Nefarious things are happening up in here,” I mutter and roll my lips inward.

“Third one.” Dede parks herself on my shoulder, hiding from the clubbers to my right. They wouldn’t see her anyway, since most of them are zoned out, living in their own little world.

Nerves spill through me, and hesitation causes me to stop my movements just as I’m about to reach the curtain. I should have waited for backup, but I didn’t, and my phone rests on the seat in Nikko’s car, so I can’t even call for them.

“Can you find Nik and Jasper?” I whisper to Dede.

“I could,” she hedges. “But let’s be real. You need me right now, and I’m not leaving you.”

“Fuck,” I hiss. “How many?”

“Three,” she replies.

I guess that’s my lucky number tonight. Forcing all my anxiety aside, I slide behind the curtain and step inside. Once there, I plant my feet and prepare for anything.

Several things catch my notice, none of which I’m happy about or proud of.

First, I note the slumped bodies over the table, their skin shriveling before my eyes. Next, I note the man who pushed me inside the bathroom stall.

Ignoring the bodies, I focus on the murderer just as Dede flies above. If things go south, she will dust him, and I’ll take him out. Either way, it looks like that is precisely where this is about to head anyway.

“We meet again.” I give him my full attention.

The few times I got a look at him earlier, I thought little of him and didn’t note that he was any different from the guy Jasper killed, Teddy. Honestly, this entire situation up until this moment felt like nothing more than a typical drug deal gone bad, not a magical crime.

Except the guy before me—though he has the same face shape, brown hair, and cruel eyes as the man I saw at my bar—is also different now. The moment shifts into unknown territory as he takes me in. His eyes peruse me from head to toe, and I suppress the desire to cringe under his inspection.

Not wasting time, I study the space. Cut off from the club and the outside world, it smells like sex and regret. It’s just us now, and I take him in. He’s handsome in an old Hollywood kind of way.

His hair is now slicked to the side, but not in an Italian mafia sleazy style. He cleaned his face up and shaved away the stubble, and his cheeks are flushed with pink, hollowing out as he puffs on a cigar and fills the space with smoke. Not to mention he’s also wearing a pinstriped suit.

On any other night, I’d give this man a double take, and that terrifies me, along with the fact that he isn’t at all surprised to see me here.

“You again,” he sneers. “Can’t get rid of you.” He puffs on his cigar, and I feel slightly put off for a moment.

Usually the bad guys run when I spot them, especially when they see all the knives strapped to my thighs.

Saying, You’re coming with me, won’t work on this guy. Instead, I push one of the dead guys onto the floor and step over his body. I fight back the cringe in my spine over my actions, knowing they are wrong.

There’s no place for that right now, not until I know what I’m even dealing with.

“Go right ahead and make yourself at home.” He gestures with a manicured hand. “Want me to order you a drink? Or…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out several familiar packets, which he tosses on the table.

I glare at them and put on my very best poker face. “I never partake on the job.” At least not this current job. Safety before you party.

“I guess I’m the job, aren’t I?” He puffs away at his cigar, which is clearly laced with weed. Wonderful, I’m about to get that fuzzy feeling despite what I just said.

Bastard.

“Tell me about the drug.” I jerk my head at the dead guys, then point at the packets.

“I would, but” —he taps his watch— “my boss is about to show up. You have five minutes, tops.”

All the hair on my body stands on end. I have the sneaking suspicion his boss is someone I do not want to meet, but one I should.

“I’ve got all night,” I say, despite my inner diva demanding I run as fast and far as possible.

“I see why he has an interest in you.” He leans in close, placing one hand on his knee while the other taps his ashes into his ashtray. He acts as though he has a secret to tell me, one I don’t want to know. “Heed my warning now, witch. You aren’t someone who wants to be on his radar.”

I lick my lips and then mentally curse myself for that small action of nervousness. “Why do they look like that?”

“You want me” —he pokes his chest— “to give all my little secrets away to the so-called peacekeeper of Philadelphia? A mortal witch?”

I guess everyone knew but me. That sucks. At least he doesn’t know what kind of witch I am—I hope. “I want you” —I lean in despite wanting to pull away— “to tell me why these dead guys ooze terror and are nothing more than husks.” I sit back in the heavily cushioned seat.

“Alright, I’ll give you something, but only because the throw at my runner was damn good.” He smiles at my shock. “Oh yeah, did you think we wouldn’t be watching you? You and the pest?” He blows smoke up toward Dede, who is perched on an exposed beam.

“I’m new. I expected a few stalkers.”

“No you did not.” He chuckles, and an awful feeling spills into the air between us. Not only is he unafraid of me, but he also acts as though he is untouchable. “They look like that because of this.” He picks up the little drug packet, flipping it between his fingers. “Tell me, Pepper O’Malley, are you an adrenaline junkie? A hedonist maybe?”

I don’t like how he asks me that, but I lie either way. “I’m more of a homebody myself. Nothing like a Saturday night on the couch with my favorite bottle of wine.”

“That so?” The grin that splits his face looks nothing like amusement and everything like he sees through my bullshit and finds it funny.

I’d rather take a fight any day over this. When I’m fighting someone, I know how it will end—with one of us bloody and perhaps broken. This verbal sparring feels more intimate and more dangerous. My fingers twitch to end this here and now, but then we’d have three dead bodies to clean up.

“I wouldn’t,” he remarks, his eyes on my thighs. He peers at the table as though he can see right through it. Leaning forward, he sets his cigar down. “I have answers to your questions. You have been running around for days, trying to figure out just what’s going on beneath your nose. You are so far behind the race, we are nearing the finish line while you are just stepping over the start line.”

“So catch me up.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“The chase,” I whisper, hoping he’s the kind of guy who loves the chase.

His laugh tells me I’m far off the mark. “Not for me, little girl. My boss? Sure.” He taps his watch. “Time is ticking.”

I grind my teeth because he knows as well as I do that despite my bluff, I do not want to be anywhere near his boss when he shows up. If his words are trustworthy and we are behind, then it’s a fight I won’t win.

I need more time.

“They look like that because they took the drug.” He tosses the packet at me, and I press my body tight against the seat. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

Dammit, I’m giving myself away. “Tell me, and I won’t kill you right now.”

He laughs at me. “I’m already a dead man walking, witch. He won’t let me live when he’s done with me.” He shakes his head. “No, there is nothing you could offer me I’d want.”

“Your conscience, maybe?”

He picks up a packet and rips the top off, spilling the tablets on the table. “You ever want to chase a high so blissful that you’d do damn near anything to live in that space?” His brown eyes glance up at me, haunted and rimmed in red. “The promise of ecstasy, free of pain?”

“They don’t look like they experienced any of that,” I muse.

“No? They wouldn’t, would they?” He presses a finger down on one little black pill and pushes it toward me. “What if I told you what they feel isn’t anything like what you see?”

My mind swirls back to my lesson with Bo and the words I uttered to him.

The real monsters live in the light. Sight is untrustworthy.

“You’re telling me that what they feel is bliss?” I ask, then add, “Then why do they—”

“Look like they do?” he finishes. “You’re a smart girl. Figure it out.”

“What’s the fucking purpose?” I hiss at him. “Why have a drug on the streets that does this?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions, witch.” He sits back, popping one pill in his mouth. “Ticktock. Ticktock.”

“I don’t know. Give me something.” My hand lies on my favorite knife, which never lets me down. “Anything.”

“Power gains and power fails.” His eyes turn glassy as he leans back and shudders. “Building, building, up and up.” He laughs, but the sound ends with a moan that makes me feel as though I’m interrupting something.

I slam my hands on the table, causing him to jerk for a moment, his eyes clearing before they fade away into his blissful state.

“He’s coming. Better run, little witch.” He chuckles again. “He’ll keep you.” Drool drops from his lips to dirty his pristine jacket. “The devil has many faces, many motives, and you never see him coming.”

My legs twitch, and my hand grips the hilt of my blade. “Who is he?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He moans, his eyes closing as saliva pools in his mouth.

“We should go, Pepper.” Dede drops down from the ceiling, her dust a deep red. “Something doesn’t feel right.” Her whisper throws me off, and that’s when it hits me.

The music is distorted, as though I’m hearing it underwater.

My eyes swing to Dede, who dives into the space between my neck and my shirt.

My spine itches, and my heart pounds.

Something wicked this way comes.

The song spills through me, echoing in my head on repeat, then the curtain snaps to the side.

This is it.

When the curtain reveals who is beyond, my body sags in relief.

“We need to go. Now.” Jasper looks at me, the dead men, and the blissed-out guy across from me.

Nikko steps up beside him, and curses spill from his lips. I catch the crowd behind him as a thick fog rolls over the gyrating bodies. It’s a normal sight, but it all feels wrong.

Jasper steps over to the man with a sneer on his face. “Worthless.” Without hesitation, he snaps his neck, earning a squeak from me. Did he need to die? Yes. There’s no reason to peddle these drugs.

“We need to run.” Nikko glances over his shoulder and then back to us. “Back door.”

Ignoring Nikko, I look to the murdering daemon. “Jasper.” Shivers dance up my spine as I stand. Everything inside me feels primed, prepped, and ready to fight. “His boss.”

“One we know nothing about. One that, through a residual haunting, saw you. You, my minx, saw just what he is capable of, but even I know I am out of my league here,” he states coldly. “We leave now.”

“To what? Wait for more bodies to pile up?” I know we shouldn’t stay, that we should run, hide, and figure out more before going up against someone or something we know nothing about. Everything he said rings true, but I’ll blame myself when the next body turns up.

“I won’t risk you.” Jasper peers down at me, his dark eyes full of fight and fear for… me.

“Why?” I whisper. I’m no one to him. I’m just another witch in his city, one who just so happens to own a bar for immortals so they can exist in our world.

“Not here.” Nikko grips my arm, dragging me out of the booth and onto the second-floor catwalk. “Even I won’t take down a criminal without complete assurance I know who and what I’m arresting.” He glances over his shoulder at me.

Running away as though we are cowards feels wrong. It doesn’t matter that the entire moment feels fueled by electricity and danger.

If I could just solve this here and now, it would all be over.

“Dammit.” I stomp my foot and break out of Nikko’s hold. Jasper moves past him, reaching for the emergency door and breaking the lock right off. Fresh air slaps me in the face as he steps out. Once more, Nikko grips my hand, hauling me through the door and out into the chilly night air.

Something slithers up my spine, the feeling of someone watching me. Just as the door is about to close, I glance back over my shoulder. My hand snaps out, holding it open for my gaze.

At the far end of the catwalk, a man steps up. His chin is raised, and his eyes sparkle with mirth as they find mine. Wearing a full black suit and holding a cane in his hand, he walks forward. With measured, sure footfalls, he moves with a confidence that few men can accomplish.

He is both beautiful and terrifying. My entire body feels as though it’s caught in a lightning storm. Every nerve ending flares to life, and my instincts sing of danger and death. I want to rush to him, my curiosity spreading through me like a virus intent on killing.

My fingers slip off the door, and as it closes, he steps up to the booth we were just in. His dark eyes turn to me, and he winks.

The door slams shut.

Run. The word rumbles through me, belonging to someone else—something else. The four of us take off into the night.

Chapter 27

Pepper

“Riddle me this, Batman.” Sabina waddles her way through the house, holding up a giant spider made entirely of papier-mâché. “What is the real flavor of fall?”

“Pumpkin spice!” Nessa shouts with a dreamy look on her face.

Ash grumbles, “Apples, Bean, apples.”

I roll the question around in my head before answering. “Depends.”

“How does that depend?” Nessa looks put out by my answer.

Rolling up from my La-Z-Boy recliner, I grab the tray of Halloween cookies and snatch one up before handing it to her as a peace offering. “You have multiple seasons of fall.” I hold up a hand to ward off the inevitable questions. “Hear me out.”

Nessa grabs a cookie and flops onto the couch with a pout.

“You have early fall, which is late August, early September. That, in my very uneducated opinion, is apple season.” I give Ash a pointed look. “Then you have October, which is Halloween season. This flavor could go multiple ways, but again, in my very uneducated opinion, it is caramel season.”

A series of groans fill the air at that statement. I know it’s controversial, but I stand by my chosen October flavor. “Now,” I continue, “candy apples rank pretty close with caramel.”

“And November?” Ash’s lips twitch as she grabs a cookie and breaks it in half.

“Pumpkin spice,” I concede. “Blame pumpkin pie.”

“That tracks.” Sabina takes my vacated spot and rolls into the chair with a groan of pleasure. “Why do my feet look like little balloons?” She grabs our grandfather’s old cane, the one I keep hidden behind the end table for emergency purposes only, then pokes at her feet.

“It’s because you are pregnant with multiple babies, Sabina.” Her personal doctor struts out of the kitchen with a massive glass of water and sets it beside her. Her blue eyes sparkle as she takes Sabina in from head to toe. “Rest.”

“Dr. K, you’re killing the vibe.” Sabina pouts, but there is no heat in her words, because if it wasn’t for doctor K, then she wouldn’t even be here right now.

It was either the good ole doctor or all of her mates escort her into the city, and according to Sabina, she needed to get out of there before she killed them all.

Hormones are wild.

“Khloe.” Ash offers the doctor the tray of cutout pumpkins cookies with orange icing that we created over coffee this morning. “Have a little pumpkin of joy.”

“Thank you.” She snatches one up and takes a bite before settling on the loveseat.

Needing a moment away from the debate on the flavor of fall, I head into the kitchen where my phone sits on the charger. It’s been days since the guys and I took off into the night, away from the club and dead guys.

Nothing popped up on the news. I’ve been watching that shit like a hawk. There hasn’t been a damn thing, which is probably the reason a knot settled in my stomach days ago.

The quiet feels wrong, as though we are just waiting for something to happen. Anything. My birthday is tomorrow, and I have this ominous feeling that I just can’t shake. Cold settles over my body, and a shiver spreads quickly from my toes to my fingertips. No matter how many times I try to chase the chill away, it just won’t leave.

The girls showed up late last night, and instead of resting from traveling, they kept the bar rolling well into the early morning hours. Even Sabina sat on a barstool ordering Shirley Temples like it was her job.

Meanwhile, I’ve spent my days at work feeling nauseous, because the normalcy made me twitchy. It’s more than just the calm before the storm.

It’s more like the calm before a volcanic eruption.

It’s also been almost a week since I opened the bar, and I need to decide if I will keep it open. I know which way I am leaning though. I’ve learned so much over the last few days that has nothing to do with the danger I put myself in by keeping it open. I.e. letting everyone know I’m a gray witch. Bobo was right, because it is an excellent cover. Not one person batted an eyelash.

I learned that Fable wasn’t even born. Gargoyles wake up one day, and that’s that. He doesn’t even understand the magic behind it, only that it exists, and that just blows my damn mind. He’s also the sweetest gentle giant that ever existed, and a part of me hopes that one day he finds someone who loves him just as much as he loves all the creatures he protects.

Namely me and my wait staff, who are also human.

Garrett has been a fount of information. He doesn’t shut up really, and I put the blame on his big mouth. That red ascot that moves around his person isn’t an ascot, but a magical piece of cloth that soaks up blood, nourishing him.

When he said he cleaned up for the twins, he meant it. I found not a trace of blood from the drug dealer at the bar. He’s got a system. He soaks up the blood, and then the ghouls he calls eat the body.

Life is stranger than fiction.

The cleanup team Garrett runs came into the bar the other night, and let me say, if Dede wasn’t right about me needing to deal with my issues before I get involved, I would hop into their beds so damn fast I’d give myself whiplash.

So why don’t you?

There’s the crux of all my damn issues. The guys were cute and delicious in so many ways, but I felt nothing else for them besides attraction.

Not to mention a few faces kept swirling in my mind of who I really wanted in my bed, and it’s a damn collection of faces—Jasper, Nikko, the twins, and even my favorite caller. I’d include Bobo, but he’s mean. Alright, I’m including Bobo.

I turn my phone on and wait for the screen to light up. A pumpkin illuminates the dark, reminding me we have a dozen pumpkins to carve out front.

When no messages pop up, I flip the phone upside down in irritation.

Why are the guys giving me this much space? Also, why do I care so damn much?

“What’s wrong?” Ash leans against the doorframe, her fingers picking at her cookie as her intelligent eyes drill through me. Wearing jogging shorts and a tank, she looks like she’s ready to conquer the world one marathon at a time—something she has done. Ash is a literal badass in my eyes.

I also want to cave and tell the girls everything, all the shit that’s rocked my world over the last week. The guys. The drug. Even now, my stomach clenches, knowing they are home and that the drug could be right outside and we’d never know it. It’s too close to home. They are in so much danger just by being near me. I can’t tell them everything. Not yet at least.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to lie, and a small squeak rents the air with my distress.

“Don’t lie, baby bear,” Ash says with a soft whisper. Glancing behind her, she turns back to me. “Look, you don’t have to give me the full rundown of what’s happening, but we all know something is happening. We love you, Pepper, and if you need us, call us.”

I roll my lips in before biting down on them. I give her a curt nod, knowing it isn’t anything but a promise that I’ll call if I need to. If I can.

They don’t even know what kind of witch I am, who my grandmother was… my father. Nothing. Not telling them about me hurts in a way that I know will rip through my soul.

“Need help tonight?” She changes the subject, giving me a moment to breathe. It’s the night before Halloween and also Sunday. The bar is having a small all-day Halloween soiree before the big event tomorrow. I’ll cart the pumpkins next door for a carving contest and then display them with little tea lights on the sidewalk. Ash already has plans for her pumpkin.

I’m glad they are here, even if I don’t say it out loud.

If anyone touches them, especially the unborn pups that Sabina is cooking, I will gut them without hesitation.

Blood will spill.

“It’s going to get a little insane, so yes, I’d appreciate the help.” I cock my head at Ash, because she’s more of the silent, intelligent type and not the drink slinging type. “Can you serve?”

“Sure can.” She winks. “I’ll go shower and meet you next door. You open soon, right?”

Tapping my phone to get the time, I tell her, “Two hours. I’m going to head over now and set up.”

“Alright.” She eyes me one more time before she walks off.

I’m not prepared for tonight. There’s a pit in my stomach, and I can’t eat. Knives are strapped to my thighs and shoved under my pillows, not to mention the weapons I’ve stashed around the entire house.

Halloween is my favorite time of the year, but after the past week, the thought of Halloween sends me to my knees—literally. I keep puking from anxiety.

No one has time to puke.

“Baby spice.” Dede rests on my shoulder. “You look ridiculous.”

“I hate you,” I say instead of thanking her. “I look amazing.”

“Witches don’t dress like witches anymore, and those socks… Who let you put them on and why?” she chatters in my ear as I head out of the kitchen, my phone tucked away in my bra for now.

“I love these socks,” I tell her and frown while glancing down at my legs. Black and orange stripes crawl up my legs. I also wear my favorite shit kickers, complete with hidden knives, making me look like a badass. And my dress? It is to die for.

All lace and gothic, with long sleeves and a slit to my upper thigh, my dress screams witch with purpose. My makeup makes my features look exaggerated and sexy, and the black lipstick with glitter gives me that sexy, sinful appearance. I look good. Damn good. All I’m missing is the wide-brimmed witch hat hanging by my front door.

“You look ridiculous,” Dede repeats, though she has nothing to say about the matter. She’s wearing a ballgown, a bright pink sparkly ballgown with a damn crown on her head.

“You look amazing,” I whisper as I enter the living room. “Alright, ladies. Mi casa es su casa. Drinks are in the back. Unless you want to help at the bar today…” I pause, waiting to see if I have any takers. Obviously, Sabina and the doc are out, so I look at Nessa hopefully.

She blinks at me with her wide, innocent eyes. “Oh, you are asking me?” She chuckles. “No, I plan to drink my way through your entire collection of wine and prank call all my mates.”

“Disturbing.” I shake my head at her antics. “If you need me, you know where to find me.” Trepidation surges through me with each step I take, and as I grab my hat, that feeling only intensifies.

Outside, the air remains crisp, and the slight scent of snow flows to me on a breeze. My porch is undecorated, and I give it an irritated glance before turning toward the steps at the sound of the creaking gate hinges.

“There’s that face again,” Jasper says as he bounds up the steps with large packages in his hands. The gate to the porch remains shut, so he tosses them over the iron barrier and grips the bar, but he doesn’t move any closer. “Going to let me in?”

A thousand emotions rush through me so fast that I’m not sure what I feel until I move toward him.

“Ew, I’m out.” Dede takes off toward the bar, where she enters through a small door Fable created just for her. Okay, so he punched the wall to make it, but it was still effective.

“Where have you been?” Do I sound like a needy little bitch? Hell yes I do. Do I care? Not at all.

“Minx, did you miss me?”

“Never.” I step nearer to him, only the bar separating us. This close, I can smell his signature scent—thunderstorm on a summer day. “You dropped me off, and that was that. Nothing else.”

“You missed me,” he coos before flipping his hoodie down. His dark eyes take me in, making me feel bare and naked before him.

“You cut your hair.” I swallow down my emotions and reach up to run my hands along his shaved sides. He’s got a full-blown Mohawk that sets me on fire. Damn, it’s hot as hell. “I love it.” My hands drop, and I scowl. “Who touched your hair, Jasper?”

Oh, hell no. Did that just come out of my mouth? Is my period due? Am I ovulating? The possessive bitch that just flew out of my mouth feels wrong, but also right.

Don’t question it. He is smiling.

“Jealousy looks sexy on you. The only thing sexier is you gutting someone over it. All in due time.” His hand snaps out and sinks into my hair, where he grips the back of my head and drags me close. “I cut it,” he says, leaning down to tap his forehead to mine. “For the record, Nik and I had a mess to clean up.”

“Oh?” Look, I’ve lost my ability to speak.

“Yes, oh. There’s a reason no one has heard about those bodies. Two are currently in my warehouse, and the third went to Van, whom you call Bobo.” His lips twitch at that.

“He said I could.”

“Is that right?” he whispers over my lips, sending stars shooting through me but not butterflies. Oh hell no, those are for when danger is near, and Jasper? He feels so damn right, even if he is the danger. Damn, I’m messed up.

“So, you weren’t—”

“Avoiding you?” He licks the seam of my lips, knowing damn well I laced them with poison. “Haven’t you realized it yet, kitten?” He nips my lip.

Breathless, I ask, “What?”

“When you realize it, then you’ll say the words.” His tongue traces over every ridge of my lips, lighting my body on fire one teasing touch at a time.

“I’m still mad at you.” Am I really?

“No, you aren’t.” He bites my bottom lip, dragging it out until the sting of his bite is all I feel. “Because you know that if I need to tie you up for your own damn good, I fucking will. If I want to tie you up and fuck the sass right out of you, then you know I will. I might be a lot of things, Pepper, but the only thing you need to know is that you are mine, and I take care of what’s mine.”

His lips press against mine, and he kisses me as though his words are true, and hell, they just might be. He’s got time to prove that to me, and I have time to understand him a little more. Right now, though, I take his kiss and give him back every little inch he gives me.

Jasper kisses me as though I’m a present he wants to open—slowly and methodically. Using his tongue, he traces the seam of my lips before he slants his mouth over mine and devours me bit by bit. He kisses with his entire body, pouring all of himself into our kiss.

He leaves me breathless, panting, and wild for his psychotic demon self. Gripping my hair, he pulls away, my lipstick covering his face and his eyes full of passion.

“You don’t have to believe me, Pepper, and I know you kept yourself from realizing what I already fucking know.” He leans in, using my breath to fuel his words. “That’s okay, my feisty witch, because I’ll prove that you belong to me, whether through magic or blood, I swear it.”

Too much. It’s too damn much. Emotion clogs my throat, and my body chills.

I won’t ever be fate’s bitch again, except Jasper believes I’m more than just another girl. He believes that I’m his, and dammit, I’ve never been anyone’s anything.

I’ve been no one’s first choice, and knowing that I’m Jasper’s throws me into a tailspin, especially because of everything we’ve been through the past week. Our meeting was unconventional and he gave me the first date from hell.

I should run from him, but I also want him to kidnap me all over again.

What does that say about me?

“I got you a present,” he teases and steps back while leaving my lipstick smeared across his face.

“I like presents,” I reply while wiping all the lipstick off my face. I’ll reapply in a moment.

“Decorations,” he says, hopping over the gate and pulling out Halloween decorations from the bags.

Dumbfounded, I stare at him as he pulls out everything I would have purchased. My chest clenches too tight, and tears burn my vision. “That’s third date material,” I say past the knot in my throat.

“Well, I think this is, what? The third?”

“What was the second?”

“You in my bed with my fingers in your wet cunt,” he states bluntly.

Ready to counter, I give him a secretive smile. “That was still the first.”

“The second had to be the night when I cuffed you to Nik’s car.” He winks at me before pulling out all the decorations. “We should do that again,” he says, but the look he gives me implies it won’t have the same outcome.

“Dammit, I have to open the bar.” I look at the bags longingly then up to Jasper, who’s grinning at me from ear to ear. “What?” I frown.

He steps up behind me and gently turns me toward the bar, where Nikko leans on the railing. His brown eyes take me in from head to toe, and desire flares to life behind them—desire I’ve wanted to explore for years now. Even though he broke up with his girlfriend, he needs to heal before diving into anything with me.

Wait. “Did he—”

“Watch me kiss you?” He nips my earlobe. “What do you think?”

“He watched.” I gasp as Jasper presses into me from behind, letting me know exactly how much he loves playing exhibitionist.

“Was it how his jeans conformed to his cock that gave it away?” he questions. “Or was it how he looks at us like he wants to cover you from the front?”

I sidestep away from Jasper and take a deep, calming breath. “All of the above.” I yank open the bags and get to work on the porch.

An hour later, long strings of webs hang from the porch ceiling and spiders crawl ominously over the wall of my home. The blinds shivered several times as though I was tickling the house, which is bizarre. After the third time, I began doing it on purpose, and then Jasper chastised me for teasing the house.

He stayed with me that entire time, decorating and talking about fall and the holidays after that. Turns out he’s Nikko’s new partner too, which only bugged me a little.

I loved doing the fun undercover stuff for Nikko. Still, the big things like tracking down an apparent drug lord dealing terror like it’s fucking candy is not in my wheelhouse.

Honestly, I think they are both just trying to keep me alive for a few more years.

Not once did I bring up the guy who entered the booth at the club, and to be honest, I am a little afraid he wasn’t even there, especially when Jasper mentioned he didn’t see anyone.

I left it at that, thinking I hallucinated him the whole time.

Yeah, let’s call it that.

By the time we finish, there’s a line around the block to get into the bar, and the porch looks creepy and spooky, making my heart feel settled and putting my mind at ease.

Jasper still didn’t wipe my lipstick off his face, earning him some strange looks from my family as they peered out the window.

“I should go help.” I turn to Jasper after sticking all the trash in one of the open bags. “Then—”

“Nope. Don’t say it.” He jumps over the railing with the trash and throws it in the dumpster. “I’m going to patrol the area.” He flips his hoodie up.

“Have you been doing that all this time?” I step up to the railing and grip the bars. Leaning down, I find his lips amongst his shadows and give him a chaste kiss.

“For my mortal, I’d shed a little blood,” he says. “No, I lied. I’d crack their chests open and present their hearts to you.”

“Gruesome, I love it.” I kiss him once more and pull back. Biting his plump bottom lip, I pull it down, savoring the taste of his blood on my lips. I don’t ask him when I’ll see him next, and I don’t ask where he’ll hide as he watches me. I feel safe, and dammit, I’m going to leave it at that, especially since I’ve felt uneasy since that night at the club.

As I step onto the sidewalk, I greet people dressed in various costumes. Their laughter fills me, and unlike the other night at the club, I feel as though I am accepted. Fable nods to me before holding the door open for me.

I head inside, where Ash and Nikko have the bar rolling, and the sisters bustle about serving. For a moment, the world feels okay, and I can pretend that it just might stay that way.

At least for tonight. At least for right now.

I grab an apron and a notepad and head outside, deciding to open up the deck and take tables out there while I get people settled for the carving contest. Hours pass in a blur, orders and laughter spilling all around me. I meet more immortals, and Garrett entertains everyone with his karaoke skills.

Which aren’t a lot.

As two in the morning creeps closer, I yell out, “Last call!” Almost everyone has already ordered their last drink of the night, and the crowd thins. Wearily, I slide onto a bar stool.

“I’ve got ya.” Nikko smirks at me before he grabs a glass and fiddles with the jars of potions below the bar.

“Is every night going to be like this?” Every muscle in my body aches and burns. I swear I blinked, and the entire night just slipped past me. Jasper’s kisses are nothing more than a fond memory at this point.

“They seem to like you now.” Ash leans on the counter, her curls spilling over the headband she used to try to tame them.

Pride surges through me. “It took some coaxing. The regulars now call me by name and don’t spit at my feet.”

“I’d call that progress.” Nikko slides a red orange concoction over to me. “Liquid IV,” he says. “When was the last time you ate?” he questions knowingly. “I can have Esme make something for you.” Ah, yes, the hidden brownie.

“I’m alright.” I want to stay on her good side, after all.

“Happy birthday, Conejita,” Nik whispers, his eyes full of something I can’t dive into right now.

I’ve made a habit out of never thanking someone, so I nod at him, grab my drink, drag it close, and sip it. Orange explodes over my tongue, and dammit, it’s delicious. I love orange, and apparently, Nikko knows this. “I take it back.” I turn to Ash. “Orange is also a fall flavor.”

“Why choose, birthday girl?” She winks at me and heads to the other side of the bar to talk with another customer. I don’t miss the glance she gives Nik either.

Nikko leans into my space. “How are you?”

I sip the drink and peer up at him from beneath my lashes. “I’m okay.” I wince because my response is so generic it burns a little. I’m obviously not okay, but I’m pushing through. “It’s been quiet,” I say instead of explaining myself.

“I know.” He leans down. Sweat beads on his brow from how hard he’s been busting his ass all night, and I hope he knows just how much I appreciate him and his help. “The captain informed me tonight that the streets are quiet too.”

“Know what that means?” I sip once more and wait for him to react, but all I get is a little quirk of his brow. “Something wicked this way comes.”

Shaking his head, he leans back and jerks his chin at the chair beside me.

“Cece.” I spin to face my exhausted server.

“Hey,” she says, drawing out the word. “Cassandra is going to ask you if you can meet her master tomorrow night.”

“Alright.” I glance over at her sister who’s sitting by the karaoke machine with Garrett.

“I want you to tell her no,” she blurts out.

“Why?”

“Look, I get it. The entire purpose of this bar is to allow immortals a chance to show up and just chill without the threat of the web, and maybe ask you if you can help them out. Cassandra’s parasite has his eyes set on something, and I don’t trust him.”

“What does he want?”

“Apparently, he just wants a meeting,” she says, “but he treats Cassandra like shit and drains her to the point where some days, she can barely get out of bed.” She lowers her voice. “I’ve had to get her blood transfusions. Her doctor thinks she’s got some kind of dangerous anemia.”

I run my tongue across my teeth and glance at Nik. This is why I’m here, right? To be some kind of justice. “Let me meet him.”

“On your birthday?” She blinks at me like I’m batshit crazy, which I probably am.

“Yeah, why not?” I hop off the bar stool. Everyone is gone for the night, and it’s time to begin the arduous task of cleaning up. “That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t look convinced. “He’s going to kill her.”

“And I will kill him before it ever gets to that,” I assure her. She gives me a nod, still looking uneasy. “Look, I’ll have backup tomorrow. It’ll be okay.”

Cece exhales and says, “Alright, I trust you.”

Smiling, I step toward the door and freeze. Lying against the doorframe is a cane. Trying to play off my unease, I head to the door and open it.

“Fable, you’re good for the night. We are closing up.” My gargoyle bouncer inhales slowly before taking flight when he believes I’m safe. Turning to the girls, I say, “Go, get out of here, and dress up tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Cassandra hangs up her apron and pockets her tips. “I think we are going to come as the twins from that Steven King movie.”

Cece follows suit with her apron. “I have the perfect dresses.”

They chatter as they step out, but all I can think of is that office building from hell. Shaking it off, I turn to Ash and Garrett. “Will you walk her home, please?”

“The mortal?” Garrett saunters over to me.

“Yes, the mortal.” I roll my eyes at him.

“This mortal can kick your ass any day.” Ash gives me a kiss on the cheek before glancing over at Nikko and then back at me.

“Go,” I hiss.

With a wink, the two of them are out the door. I flick the lights off before pressing my back against the glass. My stomach grumbles, and my gag reflex tries to spew out all the drink he made for me. “Nikko.”

He goes on instant alert. “What is it?” He tosses a rag to the bar top and rushes over to me.

It takes me a few tries before I finally get out, “The cane.”

“What cane?” He grabs my shoulders and pulls me close.

My eyes, however, glance right back to the door where there’s no cane. Shivers rack my body. It’s gone. It’s fucking gone. How?

My heart hammers in my chest, and my nerves pour out of me in the form of shivers.

“Conejita, I’m getting you home.” He pulls back. “You look like you have seen a ghost.”

Just an imaginary cane. I count to five and then hold my breath before exhaling even slower. “It’s okay, my cousins are here tonight. Let’s just go.”

“Are you sure?” he questions.

No. “Yeah,” I whisper as my nerves continue to swirl inside my gut like acid.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asks as I swing the door open. I am not going out the back tonight.

I rush from the bar and hurry him out before I lock it. “The girls are here for my birthday,” I assure him, feeling anything but confident. “I’m sure we will just stay up eating cake.”

“Alright,” he says slowly, not buying my bullshit.

I don’t blame him. My steps clack on the sidewalk, and I wish I hadn’t sent Dede home early to check on the girls.

I might regret my actions later, but I blow Nikko a kiss and run to the front door. “See you later!” I rush inside and flip the lock all while my heart thunders too fast and too hard in my chest.

Heaving, I lean against it and listen, but everything inside is quiet. Creeping into the living room, I find all the girls asleep on the floor. Even Ash, who must have lain down and passed out.

Staying completely clothed, I lie down on the other side of her on the air mattress. Sleep doesn’t come easily, and when it does, it’s restless and fitful.

Happy birthday to me.

Chapter 28

Pepper

Ever get that feeling that something just isn’t right? From the moment the sunlight burns through the curtain just to scorch my gritty eyelids, I’m left with nothing to do but wake up and start the day, even though the world feels wrong.

It’s hard to explain, and maybe it’s just my inner witch waking up and stretching her legs, or perhaps it’s because it is my birthday. Whatever the reason, today feels strange.

At three in the morning, I woke, startled. I hadn’t been asleep for more than a few moments when I felt a warning shudder, like ghostly fingers curling around my arms to shake me.

Not only that, but I woke at the exact hour of my birth. That should freak me out more than it does, but the fact of the matter is, I’ve always had this strange awareness of the hour I was born. Intuition maybe, or just a coincidence. Either way, today feels as though it’s about to get weird, and not the fun kind of weird.

It’s like the wind is blowing just right to move all the debris from my path, and at the end of the day… Well, I’m not sure.

While I kept everyone at the bar from singing to me last night, I know today I won’t be able to avoid the birthday shenanigans. Luckily, the girls let me sleep in because I didn’t fall back asleep until dawn.

Chatter rises through the vents as my cousins gather and prepare for the evening. Sabina’s excitement over handing out candy to trick-or-treaters is so damn wholesome that it makes me a little weepy. She keeps patting her belly, her eyes filling with tears and her scarlet nose wiggling with the sniffles.

She’s going to be an incredible mother.

Ash and Nessa are dressed up as their origins and obsessions. Nessa donned a sexy dragon outfit—I’m curious to see what she does with that—and Ash is a fae queen. She’s mortal, like me, but her obsession with the fae borders on disturbing. As for the good old doc… well, one guess. Go on.

A doctor, but a dead one. I caught her giggling to herself in the bathroom while putting on makeup. She began doing one of those skeleton faces, and my jaw dropped at her makeup skills.

Yesterday, I dressed up as a witch, but today, I’m stuck. Most of my wardrobe is black, and I didn’t get a costume. If I’m being honest, I didn’t plan on doing anything for my birthday.

Two weeks ago, I didn’t even know where I was going to sleep, despite having several locations I could run to.

Nothing felt right.

There is the crux of my current dilemma—everything suddenly feels right. The creepy, ominous feeling still hangs over me, but despite that, I’m where I need to be. That’s when an idea slaps me in the face, an ode to the one woman who embraced her weird and spooky.

Morticia Addams.

Grabbing stockings from my drawer, I roll them up my legs and get dressed. I already have the wig and curvy hips to fill out the body-con dress. The dress she usually wears hangs in my closet because I love how form fitting it is. Who wouldn’t?

The sun sets as I finish with my makeup. Cassandra, Cece, and Garrett opened the bar for me since it is my birthday.

Besides, I am still shaken over last night’s incident, the one I refuse to acknowledge. Every time I close my eyes, I see that cane there. I didn’t get a good look at his cane the other night, but I just know it belongs to him. How it disappeared just as fast as it showed up is something I don’t want to dive into.

The week held so much promise with how damn quiet it was.

Blowing out a breath, I swing open my door to a pixie buzzing in my face dressed as none other than the pixie herself.

“I am not” —she lifts her chin— “her.”

Oh, this is the comedic relief I need in my life right now. “Oh?” I smirk at her frowning face. “So you aren’t Tin—”

“I will gut you like the pirate you are.” She brandishes her sword and slices my cheek open. The pain radiates outward like a paper cut.

I bite my tongue against the pain and the humor of a pixie trying like hell to outshine the shadow of another. “Then who?”

“I am Peter.” She gives me a curt nod and puts her sword away.

Looking at my little companion, I see she isn’t dressed like the pixie princess. She’s wearing green leggings and a tattered shirt, and on her head is a little cap with a feather sticking straight out the back.

“Alright.” Oh, this is fun. “Where are your lost boys, Peter?”

Dede grins, and it’s a devious thing. “Oh, you’ll see.”

Laughter spills out of me, drowning away all my other worries and hesitations about the day. “You collected the pixie males from Jasper, didn’t you?”

“Damn right I did.” She giggles a little before adding, “I made them my bitches.”

“Your lost boys. Stay in character, Dede.” I step out into the hall, forcing her to move back. Her wings buzz, and green dust spills from them. “Are you hanging out with me at the bar tonight?” I ask. Since she will have her horde of males, I almost expect her to say no and run off to do whatever it is pixies do on Halloween.

“Yep.” As we head to the second floor, her wings let out a little chirping noise. “We set up the rafters in the bar like a tree house.”

“When the hell did you do that?” I’m not even mad. I bet it looks fantastic. She really went all in.

“When you were running around like a chicken with her head cut off last night,” she states with annoyance.

“Hey.” I pause on the landing, heading to the first floor. “Are you mad?”

“No,” she drawls, and I know she is lying. All it takes is one perfectly raised brow for her to break. “I mean, a little. Usually we do stuff together. The bar is taking up all your time, and all the chatty mortal females are here, and maybe I miss you a little. There, I’ve said it.” She crosses her arms and pouts, plopping herself on the railing.

“You’re right.” And she is. For two years, it’s been her and me against the world, and she got to know me on a level no one else ever did because we were always together. The last week, however, we’ve spent more time apart than we ever have. “How about we go through the backup candy later and gorge ourselves while watching Halloween? I even got you those caramel ones you like.”

Her eyes light up. “Really? Truly?”

“Yep. Just you and me. We can hide in the attic.” I’m going to need a social reset anyway.

“Done.” She buzzes off, not waiting for me to say a damn thing more.

Laughter floats up from downstairs, and I quickly head down to see what all the ruckus is about. I damn near stop in my tracks when I see three of the men who have been on my mind. Well, two of them. I know the third is only there because he wants to make sure I don’t die tonight, and he refused to stay in his library.

“Jasper, you didn’t.” I bite my lip, trying not to lose my shit. “You dressed as Nikko?”

Nessa giggles uncontrollably from the couch. “Look…” She can’t even get the words out. “Look at his ass.”

“Spin for me, demon.” I twirl my finger, and Jasper gives me a dark look full of retribution. He’s wearing one of Nikko’s old beat cop uniforms, and it doesn’t even fit. I thought these two were similar in size and shape, although Nikko is a little shorter than Jasper and bulkier, but I guess, in this case, size matters, or rather height.

The material stretches over his form, threatening to burst, and I can see everything. The hat on his head sits a little crooked too.

“It’s illegal to impersonate a cop,” Nikko grumbles from Jasper’s side.

“Oh, Nik.” I bite my lip again because these two will kill me tonight. He’s dressed like Jasper, wearing low-slung jeans and a black hoodie he has draped over his head. He doesn’t have the shadows to hide his face, so instead, all I see is his five o’clock shadow. “Lift your hands over your head for me?” I ask while batting my eyelashes.

“Why?” he asks.

Jasper steps behind him, grabs his wrists, and yanks them up. “Because the witch asked.”

“Ah, there it is.” Unashamed of myself, I cock my head to the side and commit that little sliver of skin to memory. Taut abs tease my vision, and my mouth waters.

Nik yanks his hands back down and flips his hoodie down, giving me another surprise.

“Nik! Your hair.” My jaw drops. “You cut it into a Mohawk.”

It doesn’t look precisely like Jasper’s because his hair is shorter, but it’s buzzed on the sides down to his nape in a V.

“This asshole” —he pushes Jasper away— “buzzed it in my sleep.”

“I didn’t know you two were sleeping together,” I tease.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jasper taunts right back.

Sabina waddles out from the kitchen with a tray of cookies. “You remind me of my mate Christian. He fucks like a demon.”

“Bean.” I gasp, but she just giggles like a loon.

Unbothered, she points a cookie at Professor Bobo. “You are my daemon.”

“I am not yours.” Bo sniffs at her. “I belong to the armory. Not you.”

“But you’re mine,” she presses.

“No.” Bo sniffs and brushes invisible lint off this tweed jacket. “I am not.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I make my way down the steps between the two of them. “The armory. Where my spear is? This is the daemon who protects the armories that your father set up?” The one I have yet to encounter.

“You didn’t know?” Sabina says around a mouthful of cookie. “Did you gain access yet?”

“No.” It makes sense though. What else does Professor Bobo guard?

“You must have been the one who needed me but didn’t open the door last week,” Bo says with a tilt to his chin. “Next time, open the door,” he admonishes.

When did I need the armory?

Jasper steps up behind me and whispers, “When I had you tied to the chair.”

Ah, that would explain it. I almost walked out on him afterward, and my hand was on the doorknob. Interesting. Oh, the webs we weave.

Sabina snorts and heads to the front door, muttering about locked doors and guardians.

“How did you get out for the day?” Jasper asks him.

“None of your business.”

Finally, I take in Professor Bo, who is not dressed up, which is a bummer. I state, “You look like you, sir.”

“Well, I didn’t realize we were dressing up today.” He sniffs. “Oh, if I must.” He waves his hand, not only changing his appearance but also his outfit.

My lips work, but nothing happens. He’s no longer as white as a ghost, but tan, with lickable abs on display. His low-slung jeans show off that delicious part I salivated over on Nikko, and he’s wearing a worn leather jacket.

His hair is now a honeyed blond, and though his features are the same, they are now sun-kissed. I’m utterly speechless, and I also feel guilty. He was handsome in his own right before, and even though nothing but the shade of his skin is different, I see him differently.

That isn’t right. “Change back,” I say in our little circle, so no one will overhear us.

Bo shifts his head as though he doesn’t completely understand. “To this?” His skin loses all pigment again, and it’s him now and not a version of him he thinks I want. “You find this more appealing?” He’s curious, not angry.

“Which version of you is real, Bo?”

“Why does she get to call you Bo?” Jasper whines.

Nikko just observes, probably filing everything away for later.

“Because,” Bo answers with slight vulnerability in his tone, yet he doesn’t elaborate further—on that, at least. “You wouldn’t be able to comprehend my true self, Pepper, and it isn’t something I’d torture you with.”

“Just who are you, Professor Bo?” I step up to him. In heels, I can almost look him in the eye, though I still have to tilt my head back. “What are you hiding?”

“It isn’t nice to ask others about their secrets without earning their trust, Pepper.” His tone deepens, reminding me of someone.

I just can’t put my finger on who. “Let’s go before the crowd gets too crazy.”

“It’s a block party now, Pepper,” Nikko finally chimes in. “It’s why Jasper and I are here on official duty.”

“You’re working?” I gape at him. “Together?”

“It’s Halloween, Pepper. It’s the one night where monsters don’t have to hide who they are. Did you think I wouldn’t be working?” He’s teasing me, but there’s also a hard note in his voice.

I nod and walk out the door to where all my cousins gather on the porch, eating more candy than they are handing out.

“You girls good?” I take in what each of them is wearing. Sabina is in a goddess costume of traditional Roman garb and curled hair, Ash wears fae ears and a flowing pale blue gown, and Nessa is dressed more like an Egyptian goddess than a dragon with gold, slitted eyes. Lastly, I look at the doc who leans on the railing, shoving a Snickers in her mouth.

Please be safe, I silently whisper to them.

“We’re good,” Ash says with a smile. “We will probably come in for a drink in a little while, but it already looks packed.”

I turn to my bar. My bar. It’s the first time I’ve acknowledged it’s mine, and I know then and there I’m staying. “Dammit.”

“Good choice,” Bo says, walking toward the gate and opening it.

“Reading my mind, Professor?” I walk down the steps and out onto the sidewalk, the guys at my back. Why does that feel right?

“Reading your body language,” he answers.

As a unit, they move around me, protecting me. Shaking my head at their antics, I push past them and up the steps toward a smiling Fable.

“Evening, Ms. Pepper,” Fable says, his face full of excitement and energy. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh, we suck.” Nikko grabs me around the waist and spins me toward him. “Happy birthday, Conejita.” He presses a kiss on my forehead that’s so gentle and sweet and completely Nik.

Jasper, his polar opposite, doesn’t steal me out of Nik’s arms but presses his front to my back. His hand snakes up my body to grip my neck and tilt my head up to his waiting lips. He kisses me as though he has something to prove. He doesn’t wish me a happy birthday in the traditional sense, but he kisses me with all the intent of the words. Biting down, he draws a drop of blood before pulling back with a wink and heading inside.

“Pepper.” Bo steps toward me, and Nikko walks away, giving up for a moment. Bo doesn’t hug me, kiss me, or try to touch me. I also feel like he wouldn’t welcome my touch if I reached for him instead. “Happy birthday.” He holds out a small blue box.

I have no chill. I love presents. Grabbing the box, I flip it open to find a small stone inside attached to a necklace. Black with swirls of white and gray, it pulses with magic.

“Bo.” I pull it out and hand the box back to him. Meeting his red eyes, I try to get a read on him and what this means, but I doubt I’ll ever know.

“Pieces of us,” he says so low I almost miss it. “In case you are ever in danger, that is.” His eyes flick to Fable, who just stands there smiling like this is his favorite television show.

“Put it on me?” I turn around and lift the long hair of my wig. When he doesn’t move, I worry that was a little too far for him and glance back.

Worry lines crease his face before he grabs the chain and drapes it over my neck. “It will pulse if your heart rate increases or you sweat.”

Ah, there it is, Bo’s cold, cynical nature. “Romantic.”

“It is to keep you alive,” he says with a bit of confusion as the stone rests at my throat. Just below it, hidden in my bra, is the medallion from my father.

“I appreciate it,” I say and give him a wink before heading inside to my insane bar. The girls work together to get drinks out to the crowd as Nik and Jasper attempt to outdo each other on showmanship.

The feeling from the morning fades away as I work my way over to my little corner. Everyone is dressed up, and it excites something inside me. This is what I’ve been looking for my whole life. This feeling of belonging.

Smiling, I grab my apron and a serving tray, and the feeling of being watched slithers up my spine. My eyes dart to Nik and Jasper, yet only Nik freezes, his eyes glued to the door and his mouth open.

I don’t want to turn around. I don’t. My pulse pounds, and my palms sweat. Jasper’s head jerks to mine, probably feeling my distress. Ever so slowly, I turn as the hair on my nape rises.

That’s when my eyes land on the men who left me. Like a fool, I stare at them—Donovan with his charming smile and Connor with a scowl—yet it’s the petite redhead between them who shatters my heart. Despite her smile and rosy cheeks, and the instant, genuine friendliness I get from her, my mind sees her as the reason for all my heartache.

“Pepper.” Cassandra steps in front of me, cutting off my view. Her cheeks are pale, and dark shadows rim her red eyes.

“He took too much.” I glance around the bar, my hand moving toward the slit in my dress as my fingers find the hilt of my knife. “I’m going to cut off his head.” The deadly promise falls easily from my lips.

“Forgive me,” she whispers. My head jerks back to her, and I see tears brimming over her lashes. Her body vibrates, and her fist rises. I go to block her hit, but she isn’t trying to hit me.

No, this is much worse. Her shaking palm flattens, and with one simple breath, she blows a dark, powdery substance at my face.

I’m too slow, and I gasp, inhaling.

Terror floods through me.

Epilogue

Jasper

Pepper’s terror rips through me, catching me off guard. The stone around her neck sends a warning to me that zings inside my head, and a glass tumbles from my fingers, shattering on the floor beneath me. That doesn’t matter though. What does matter is the druid rushing forward to catch my girl.

My body flies over the bar to land in a crouch just as he catches her falling body. He isn’t the threat though—the server is.

My hand flies out as I stand and spin, catching her around the neck, and then I slam her against the wall. Her eyes flicker, sobs rip from her throat, and the faint stench of vampire clings to her skin and clothes.

“Cassie, what did you do?” Her sister rushes toward us, her eyes darting from her sister to Pepper who’s lying on the floor.

The druids try to help her, and even the redhead rushes to her side.

The culprit is what and who I can handle right now. My hand tightens on her throat, and her gasps send a delicious little thrill through me. Mortals are so easy to break, and I promised Pepper if anyone hurt her I’d gift her their heart.

“Stop!” Her sister tugs on my sleeves. “You’re going to kill her.”

“Yes, I’m going to,” I reply, my voice cold.

“It isn’t her fault. It isn’t her fault,” her sister insists.

Maybe I’m growing soft in my old age, but I loosen my grip a little.

“To the library.” Bo steps up beside me, his eyes brutal and unforgiving. “Not here with witnesses.” He glances down at Pepper, who looks like she’s sleeping peacefully, but I know that isn’t true.

“What did you give her?” I ask the human, even though I already know what she did.

Snot and tears spill over my hands, but I won’t be kind, and I won’t be just on this creature. She hurt what belongs to me, and for that, she will pay in the worst of ways.

“Terror!” she rasps.

I drop her and turn to Bo. For the first time in my eternal life, I don’t know what to do. Do I kill the mortal? Do I rush Pepper to a hospital?

“Library,” Bo repeats then steps aside, heading for the door. “Let’s go.”

“We cannot move her,” one druid mutters. There’s a harshness in his voice, so this must be Connor. Although they are identical twins, they have very different personalities.

“Not here,” the other mutters, lifting Pepper and turning to the other daemon. “Where to?”

“I’m coming.” Nik hops over the bar. Turning toward the fae named Garrett, he yells, “You’re in charge.”

I grab the mortal and throw her over my shoulder before turning to her sister. “If you want her to live, you’ll tell me everything about her lover. Let’s go.”

“What… What are you going to do to her?” she sobs heavily. “He did this. I know it was him. It was him. I swear Cassandra would never do this to her. She loves Pepper. She gave us a second chance.”

A second chance.

I watch as Bo opens the front door that won’t lead outside anymore, but to the library, and then I look at the slobbering woman—a second chance.

If I let her live, it would be a third for her. Pepper would want to hear her out.

She has to live through this moment without me killing her. Ignoring her, I rush forward, grabbing the sister and shoving her through before I slam the door behind us.

Wasting no time, I dart toward one of the rooms, throw them inside, and lock the door.

Everything inside of me demands I check on Pepper or kill them, and since my minx wouldn’t want me killing her employees, I turn toward the crowd.

Bo laid Pepper out on a table. Her little upturned nose flares with every inhale and exhale. Relief spills through me as I take in her pale complexion and her lashes fanned out across her face. My gothic sleeping beauty.

Wake up, I silently whisper, begging her to open those freckled eyes and glare at me in some challenge that I’ll meet head-on. She doesn’t.

Nikko paces, earning a scowl from me, and he glances at her every few moments. His eyes look haunted and heartbroken. I’m almost jealous of the time he’s had with our little witch. Almost.

My eyes fall back to Pepper, where the twins hold knives, prepared to carve sigils into her skin.

Bo quickly places a hand over one of theirs. “You can’t,” he scolds them.

“Witches have had sigils in the past despite what you believe. Besides, Pepper is our fated mate, so her body will accept our magic. She will be fine,” Donovan argues. “This will allow her to heal.”

I should kill him for those words alone.

“My healing isn’t working,” Connor mumbles and drops one glowing white hand.

“Stop!” the fiery redhead shouts, her eyes wide and mouth parted. “You can’t.”

“Mari, you know as well as I do that this will heal her,” Donovan argues.

“It won’t.”

“Don’t say it,” Bo warns.

“Say what?” I demand. I don’t like secrets, and Bo usually isn’t the one to keep secrets from me. This time, though, he grinds his teeth and refuses to speak.

“I have no qualms about telling her truth to save her life,” Mari speaks up. “You cannot carve druid sigils onto a chaos witch. It will kill her due to the chaotic nature of her magic.”

The twins and I all step back.

“No,” I mutter. Bo kept this a secret, a perilous secret. I understand why he did it. If it got out, she’d have to fight off her kind as they tried to kill her. Hell, she will have to do that for life as it is.

“How?” Donovan questions.

“It makes sense, brother. Her late magic, her chaotic nature…” He turns to Mari. “What do we do?”

“She’s a chaos witch. We wait,” she says. “Nothing can hold chaos. We wait until she breaks it.”

“While she lives in her nightmares?” Nikko asks.

“No, the dealer at the bar said it was a blissful high.” I run a hand down my face. We eavesdropped before we entered. Okay, I did. Nikko was angry I made him wait.

“That makes no sense from what Nik told us,” Connor scoffs. “Pepper felt terror, so bliss makes no sense.”

“It does if what makes you happy is ripped away from you,” Nik states.

Mari shakes her head. “Her magic won’t work like that. She felt the drug for what it was, so she will live out her worst nightmares or whatever terrifies her.”

“What does she fear?” I ask Nikko, thinking he would know her best.

It is Donovan who answers. “Losing everything.”

“Losing her fated,” Connor corrects.

“No,” Nikko argues. “She already lost you two, and she lived through that.” His face saddens before he gives away what may truly terrify her. “Love terrifies her.”

Oh, kitten.

I can’t just sit here and watch her wither away from her terror, so instead, I turn toward the sisters. “Good cop, bad cop?” I ask Nikko.

“You’re always a bad cop.” He steps up beside me. “I get to play bad cop today.”

“For now,” I whisper as we head toward the doors.

It’s time to uncover what’s going on.

Acknowledgments

What a long, strange trip it’s been.

A decade ago, my brother told me I should find a creative outlet to help my anxiety and depression. Neither of us knew at the time what that would lead to. What began as a suggestion to help me through the dark times became a passion that allowed me to thrive. I never anticipated publishing my thoughts for the world until, once again, my brother gave me encouragement to take that chance, to take that risk, and see where it led me.

“What do you have to lose?” he asked.

I had multiple snarky responses to that question, but we all know what I ended up choosing.

Dear brother, without you none of this would have ever happened. You are my anchor during life’s hurricanes, and you give me clarity to see through every storm. You are the best friend I didn’t know I needed, and I will always love you for every moment you gift me. Like breadcrumbs, my readers will find you in every novel I write.

To my parents, I want to say thank you for breathing life into me, for raising me to see the good in every soul and challenging me to persevere—also for the food and tequila shots.

My small creatures, those four humans I birthed and their friends who showed up along the way, your stories, laughter, and even the darkest moments give me purpose and motivation to be the best mom and pseudo-mom I can be. I love each and every one of you.

To the man who made me his, grew up with me, and encouraged me every step along the way. You didn’t have to love me, but you chose to love me. You keep me fed, safe, and humble. Oh, and you never question me when I pour just one more glass of wine.

My aunts and my cousins, thanks for letting me put you guys in a book and being chill about it. There is a saying that cousins are our first friends who become forever friends. I think I lucked out with you guys, because you are the best damn family a girl could ask for, and I get to keep you forever. Even our crazy grandma.

For those allies we have in real life, the real MVPs that keep this author going, thank you all. To my editor, you are the brightest ray of sunshine. You didn’t have to be my friend, but you chose to be, and for that I will be eternally grateful. To my RH rogues, you ladies showed up and kept the dick jokes rolling. My besties, Sam and Jamie, I couldn’t live without you bitches. My friends, my people.

About the Author

Elle Lincoln has been writing out her dreams and even nightmares for over a decade. She believes in magic in all forms, and oftentimes you’ll find her daydreaming in the oddest of places. Her passion is Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance, where the men are a little bit real and a dash of mythical.

When Elle isn’t writing she’s probably chasing around her four children, child-like husband, and a rambunctious Australian Shepherd. All who keep her on her toes. Nice try with the distractions, but mommy still got those books written and published. She resides in the beautiful state of Pennsylvania with lore and legends, and a whole lot of cornfields.

www.ellelincoln.com

https://linktr.ee/ellelincoln

Also by Elle Lincoln

Welcome to the Fated Universe, where each series focuses on a different set of fated mates. By the end of each series, each couple will have their happily ever after. Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance.

Not every loose end will be resolved in each universe at the end of each series. Some secrets will span across additional series, but will in no way take away from the individual stories. You can still read each series out of order, but the suggested reading order is as follows:

Fated Souls - Sabina

Surrender

Submission

Seduction

Salvation

Sabina

Fated Sight - Vanessa

Visions

Vicious

Vanquish

Vengeance

A Fated World Standalone - Kendall

Cerberus

Chaos Magic - Pepper

Psychotic

Pretentious

Pompous

Perverse

Perilous

* * *

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