Chapter 7
It was Sunday afternoon and the witch was back. This was the second time in a single weekend. He’d followed her at a safe distance both times. He told himself it was for her protection. In case there were more wolves hunting her.
Since Friday, he’d replayed their conversation multiple times, picking apart the details. Specifically pertaining to Ambrose Blackthorn. Why had the male sent wolves after her? To keep her from breaking the curse? She’d been cagy when he’d asked, refusing to answer.
Something wasn’t adding up.
But he’d get to the bottom of it.
Extracting information was his specialty, after all.
For now, he would simply bide his time.
Today, her arms were bare. She’d discarded her hoodie, tying it around her waist. He could smell the perspiration on her skin, sweetening her chamomile and honey scent as she picked her way over the uneven ground. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail that swayed as she walked.
It was distracting. And annoying. And he had the unreasonable urge to wrap it around his fist. Demand she give him answers. Punish her for her defiance.
But that’s what she’d done.
She’d defied him. Multiple times. When she’d used her magic on him. When she’d trespassed on his property. When she’d refused to answer his question—
She abruptly stopped, pulling a map from her pack. A map of his property. It felt like a gross invasion of privacy, even knowing that kind of information was public domain.
She made a notation on it.
When she straightened, her voice caught him off guard. “If you’re going to keep following me you might as well join me.”
He scoffed. “The smell of your witch blood is less nauseating from this distance.”
“Right.” She tucked the map away, turning to face his general direction. “If my blood is so nauseating, you wouldn’t be here.”
Fair point.
“Why don’t you come on out, Wolfie?”
He stepped into her line of sight. “Don’t call me that.”
“Wolfie?” She shrugged. “How about Spot? Fido—?”
“I have a name.”
“Well, since you never gave it and you’re following me around like a puppy dog...”
A low growl built in his chest. She was baiting him. He knew that, and yet—
“It’s Axel.”
“I know.”
He made a sound of annoyance in the back of his throat. “You’re impossible.”
“Are you saying I defy the laws of physics?” She grinned. “I’m flattered.”
“This is why I live in seclusion,” he grumbled.
“And here I thought it was because of your blinding personality.”
“That too.” His lips twitched. Damn it.
“Well, if you don’t mind. I’ve got loads of ground to cover, so don’t let me keep you.” Then she turned and set of. And fuck if he didn’t fall into step right behind her. She said nothing about it, just continued on.
“What’s that thing do, anyway?” He glared at her device. It made an annoying clicking sound and the needle pivoted back and forth across a dial.
“It’s a lunarium detector.”
“A—what?”
“You know, lunarium? The crystal that wolves are highly sensitive to? It’s supposed to be calming. Not that it seems to have any effect on—”
“I know what lunarium is.” The words were bitten out.
“Ah. Right. Wolf and all that.”
“Didn’t know there were special detectors for it.”
“There’s detectors for all sorts of stuff.
Geiger counters for radiation. Magnetometers for magnetic fields.
Seismographs for ground vibrations. Ground-penetrating radar for subsurface structures.
Metal detectors for ferrous materials, gas chromatographs for chemical compounds.
Infrared spectrometers for heat signatures. ”
He gaped at the back of her head. Not that she could see him.
“Then there’s the hybrid ones that lean more into the supernatural. Like this one. You’ve got thaumic resonance detectors for magical energy. Ectoplasmic field meters for ghostly activity. Aetheric disturbance sensors.”
He stopped walking.
“Crystalline formation scanners. Ley line displacement monitors. Dimensional flux analyzers. Spectral emanation trackers—”
She froze, then spun around. Her brow furrowed when she saw the ten feet that separated them.
He was about to say something cutting. Until he got a look at the dreamy expression on her face.
His chest went tight. Whatever he’d been about to say—well, he couldn’t quite remember, could he?
He closed the distance between them. “I suppose you learned all that from your physics classes?”
She grinned. “Something like that.”
His eyes dropped to her mouth and he quickly pulled his gaze away. She might have noticed the action, he wasn’t sure. But she fell silent.
She set off again.
He was contemplative as he followed behind, keeping an eye on her feet and the terrain more than necessary. There was no telling when she’d trip and he’d have to catch her. And so what if his eyes jumped to her ass a few times. It wasn’t as if she’d know.
The rocky outcropping she led them to was nearly twenty feet tall, one of the higher points on his property.
He’d climbed it a few times in both human and wolf form.
Her detector’s clicking intensified as they approached the formation.
He was content to simply watch her, the way she moved, how she chewed on her lower lip as she was concentrating.
The little furrow that formed between her eyebrows.
She moved with purpose, checking readings at different points along the cliff, making notes on her laminated map.
He stayed close—closer than necessary, really—telling himself it was only to ensure she didn’t do anything foolish like stub her toe or trip and slide down the hillside.
When she crouched near a particularly deep fissure in the rock, her excitement was palpable. “The readings are strongest here.” She pulled out a small flashlight, trying to peer into the crack. It was narrow—too narrow for a person to enter—but her detector was practically humming.
“How do you feel about dynamite?”
“Absolutely not,” he growled, snapping out of his haze. “I agreed to let you on my property, not destroy it.”
She bit her lip, holding back a smile. At which point he realized she was simply fucking with him. He huffed and backed away.
They set off again after she’d more than thoroughly explored the area and checked it off on her map.
He fell into step just behind her. “So,” he found himself saying. Which was ridiculous. “Why physics?”
She shrugged. “Our parents encouraged us—my siblings and I—to find successful professions.”
“That’s it?”
The sigh she let out told him it wasn’t.
He waited in silence. The only sounds were those of the forest and their quiet footfalls.
“I was really angry—for a long time. I still am. At the world. At supernaturals. At magic. At what I am. It just felt so unfair, you know? To be given this gift that’s slowly taken away, piece by piece. I felt…betrayed.”
His throat went tight and he swallowed.
“I wanted to do something that was different. As far away from magic as possible.”
“Hence, physics,” he finished.
“Hence, physics,” she confirmed.
“I really do find it beautiful. The way everything in the world has a logical, scientific explanation.”
“Except, that’s not true.”
“I know—not where magic is concerned.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “But sometimes it’s easier to pretend magic doesn’t exist. Makes me less afraid of losing something that isn’t there.”
It shouldn’t have done things to his chest—shouldn’t have made it tight with emotion—to hear her admission. “And teaching?”
“I love teaching.” Her voice transformed with eagerness.
“There’s something so satisfying when you share your knowledge with others and see that moment they understand.
The ah-ha moment. The joy and accomplishment.
You feel it too, knowing you helped make it happen.
I don’t know. It just… It brings me joy. ”
He hummed
“So, what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Well…you’re a wolf. Wolves live in packs. They don’t survive on their own.”
“Didn’t realize they taught wolf behavior in physics class.”
She snorted. “It’s common knowledge for a supernatural.”
“Barely a supernatural.” His words were out before he could stop them. Her shoulders dropped, but it was the only sign that she’d heard him. He felt like the biggest asshole in the world. Which he shouldn’t have. Because who cared? She wasn’t anything to him. How she felt shouldn’t have mattered.
Except, it did.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he admitted.
“I mean, it’s true” She tried to disguise the emotion but he caught the waiver in her voice.
He reached for her arm, spinning her to face him. Their gazes locked. He wanted to step on a rusty nail when he saw the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was uncalled for.”
She pressed her lips between her teeth and nodded. “It’s all right. I forgive you.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. All forgiven.” There was nothing but raw honesty in her gaze.
Something he really didn’t deserve.
Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to put distance between them. Dropping her arm, he took a step back and said, “The sun will set quickly. You should be getting back.”
She looked around. “You’re right. I guess I got a little carried away.”
“Nature can do that.” He reached up, running his fingers through his hair, pulling at some of the knots. She traced the motion, so he dropped his arm.
“Your car is this way.” He pointed her in the right direction, saving her the need for GPS.
“Well aren’t you handy.” Her grin diffused some of the tension between them.
“Guess I have my uses.”
She set off and he fell into pace behind her. This time, he kept his distance. Not that it mattered. Her chamomile and honey scent still surrounded him. And somehow, over the past few hours, the witchy essence that accompanied it wasn’t as irritating.
“You never answered my question,” she called out, after they’d been walking for several minutes.
He knew exactly what question it was. The one that had him lashing out. And maybe it was his guilt that had him saying, “I prefer my solitude.”
“That much is obvious. But it’s not my place to pry, so I won’t ask you why.”
“I wouldn’t answer even if you did.”
“Fair.”
Was it, though?
Because he had a million more questions about her, even if he was unwilling to answer any about himself.
So for now, he didn’t ask a single one.
There were other ways to get information.
Which was why, after seeing her safely back to her car two hours later, he found himself in his cabin, powering on the laptop he almost never used, hooked up to the ethernet cable he paid an arm and a leg for.
And that was when he saw the picture of them.
Rebecca Miller and Ambrose Blackthorn behind the flash of cameras at the Supernatural Council’s Spring Gala. She was wearing a black cocktail dress that came to the middle of her thigh. It hugged her curves perfectly. But that’s not what turned his stomach rock-hard.
It was the sight of her in Blackthorn’s arms, smiling and happy. The caption hinted at rumors of engagement. Even if there was no ring yet on her finger.
He shouldn’t have cared that she’d lied to him—that she’d made it sound like they were enemies.
But he did care.
Because this picture contradicted the story she’d fed him. His jaw clenched and he slammed the laptop shut. He would not allow her to manipulate him again.