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She’s alone?He paused before returning to the foyer.
Witches didn’t fight alone. One witch was no match for a wolf.
The wolf urged him to not get trapped in a blind. It was true; he had to move.
He slipped out of the door to find her standing on the stairs with a stack of books in her hand.
All of this stopped being funny really fast.
She tossed one, and he lunged to grab it, then winced as it met the molasses on his hands. He dropped it quickly. “Not the books. Destroy everything in this damn house, but not the books.”
She threw another one.
His rage finally provoked the beast, and he shifted before the book hit the ground. His vision changed and the color red bled out of the world even as every detail sharpened far past 20/20. He could see the fear wash over her face perfectly.
Her hands dropped to her side, and the books dropped with them.
But it was too late.
The beast leaped over the banister and up the stairs.
Desperately, Aiden hauled on the reins—fighting for control and losing—like always.
Run, please run, he begged, hoping she could go faster than any human alive.
She couldn’t, of course.
The wolf lunged and took her down, knocking her up the stairs and crawling over her until its nose was at her neck. Its eyes crossed at her scent. This was what it had smelled in the woods.
Aiden didn’t know what that meant or who she was. He only knew two things: he had shifted and attacked, and she was still alive.
3
Goldie thought she was dead as she hit the stairs, all spells fleeing her mind. The wolf’s hot breath wafted over her face, and three steps dug painfully into her hips, back, and neck.
The dark beast was huge—bigger than any wolf she’d ever seen—and she knew those fangs dripped with poison. She saw him shift from human seconds ago, but she swore there was no humanity in that gaze, just the hunt.
Then it sneezed.
“Bless you?” she said.
It sneezed again and reared back.
She sat up carefully as it pawed at its nose. It was still covered in molasses and had a ring of feathers around its head like an insane bird.
It backed down the stairs, manically trying to avoid the books as it sneezed. It was still sneezing when it made it to the foyer, hit the soap, and sprawled on its belly.
She laughed.
She tried to stop as it growled, but she couldn’t. She knew it was hysterics. She’d come inches from being eaten, and guffaws spurted out of her.
The wolf tried and failed to get to its feet and slid across the foyer until it crashed into a bucket.
In seconds, a man lay face down in the feathers and bubbles.
He climbed slowly to his feet and shook his head, sending feathers spiraling through the air. She bit back a whistle. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him as they played cat and mouse through the house. He was huge, with rangy, intimidating muscles and brown hair a little lighter than his wolf’s fur.
He turned to her, a wild look in his eyes.
