The breeze shifts, carrying her scent to me—apples and sweetness, a hint of leather. All of it mingled with the unmistakable scents of gasoline and burned rubber.
She must be back at the wreck.
Exiting the woods, I finally spot her.
“Westlyn, thank the fucking stars. Are you—” I stop abruptly. Something isn’t right.
She appears unharmed, but it’s like she doesn’t even see me. She’s standing in the middle of the road, arms outstretched, eyes glassy and wide, utterly entranced. In one hand, she’s clutching my briefcase—I’d all but forgotten it in the wake of everything that happened. Now, it pulses with a strange violet light.
The amulet, I realize.
Westlyn closes her eyes and tosses her head back, her hair suddenly whipping around her face. I watch in stunned silence as electric bolts of raw power spark up from the ground around her like reverse lightning, then spin, encircling her in a whirlpool of light.
The air crackles with dark magic. Every hair on my body stands at attention.
“Westlyn,” I say softly, raising my hands as I approach her. “It’s all right, love. You’re safe.”
At the sound of my voice, she finally raises her head and opens her eyes. She looks straight at me—straight through me. I hardly recognize her.
Tiny bolts of light flicker across her skin.
Fae runes, I realize. Hundreds of them. Impossibly tiny, but unmistakable.
“He will punish you for this,” she says cooly, her voice as eerie as the runes. “This isnotwhat he demands of you.”
At first I think she’s speaking to me, but then I sense a presence behind me.
Eloise.
“You’ll come to your senses sooner than you realize, girl,” she spits. “And when you do, I won’t be able to help you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I whip around, claws out, but she’s already vanishing into the shadows.
One more heartbeat, and the woman is gone.
The violet light fades, and soon, that too is gone.
All that remains is Westlyn, pale and trembling, staring off into the distance as if she doesn’t even know who she is.
Chapter Eight
DRAEGAN
Westlyn sways on her feet.
I catch her before she falls, sweeping her into my arms and hauling her against my chest. The runes are gone. No trace of magic remains on her skin.
Only the scent of it, like the air before a wild summer storm.
“Westlyn,” I whisper. “Talk to me. Tell me you’re all right. Tell me you can hear me.”
Still clutching that damn briefcase, she finally reaches up to touch my cheek with her free hand. Through a faint smile, she says softly, “I knew you’d save me.”
It’s an effort not to fall to my knees in relief.
“Of course I saved you.” I brush the hair from her eyes and force a grin, hoping it hides my lingering fear. “I’ve got an unbroken record now. Couldn’t very well ruin my streak.”
She laughs, but I can tell it’s a struggle for her to keep her eyes open. “I… I was so worried about you, Draegan. When I first came to, I couldn’t find you, and I thought—”
