I’m sorry. I’m trying. I don’t know what’s happening to me.
“Ms. Wright.”
That voice. Low and controlled, with an edge of gravel that scraped down her spine and settled somewhere inappropriate.
Narla’s entire body went still.
Sheriff Wyatt Gentry stood at the edge of her booth, badge catching the lantern light, uniform stretched across shoulders that had no business being that broad. Dark skin. A jaw set in permanent tension, clenched against emotions he refused to acknowledge. Those amber eyes that had been watching her—tracking her, studying her—since the day she’d arrived in Haven Shores.
Her heart stuttered. Her magic surged toward him, and she had to clamp down hard to stop every candle on the table from flaring.
No. Not him. Not now.
Working security at a festival full of happy supernaturals probably wasn’t his idea of a good time. Wyatt didn’t do happy. He did suspicious. He did controlled.
She should not find that attractive. She absolutely shouldn’t.
“Sheriff.” She kept her voice even. Pleasantly neutral. The same tone she’d used in every clipped, professional exchangethey’d had—even as lightning arced between them with one glance. “Working security tonight?”
“Making rounds.” His gaze swept her booth, cataloguing everything—the candle arrangements, the cash box, the slight tremor in her fingers before she hid them behind the display table. Nothing escaped him. It never did. “We had a report of a disturbance near your cottage earlier this evening. Wanted to give you a heads up.”
“A disturbance?”
“Probably nothing. Kids, most likely. This time of year, they test the wards around isolated properties.” His focus returned to her face, and Narla felt it land with physical force. “You’ll let me know if you see anything unusual.”
Not a question. Never a question with Wyatt Gentry. He issued statements and expected the world to fall in line.
“Of course.” She forced a smile. Felt it crack at the edges. “Happy to assist local law enforcement.”
His jaw tightened. A flicker in those eyes—gold bleeding out from his pupils for just an instant before he wrestled it back to human amber.
Narla knew what that meant. She’d seen it a hundred times over the years. His panther, surging toward her, held back only by iron will. The same iron will she used to hold herself motionless when every instinct screamed to close the distance between them.
The space between them crackled with static. Electricity prickled along her skin. Her candles flickered, flames leaning toward him.
“Your candles.” He nodded toward the display. “They’ve been acting strange lately. Burning in colors I’ve never seen.”
“The surge affects all magic.” She kept her hands steady through sheer force of will. “Nothing to be concerned about.”
“I’m not concerned.” That flat, measuring stare. “I’m observant.”
You’re observant when it comes to me. Watching. Digging.
She knew he suspected her. Had known it since her first week in Haven Shores, when she’d caught him reviewing her registration paperwork for the third time. He’d never found anything—she’d been too careful, too thorough—but Wyatt Gentry wasn’t the type to let go of a hunch.
Under other circumstances, she might have admired that stubbornness.
Ember swooped low between them, breaking the tension with a pointed screech. The owl landed on Narla’s shoulder, puffed his feathers at Wyatt, and delivered what could only be described as a threatening glare.
Wyatt’s expression didn’t change, but a flicker crossed his gaze. Amusement, maybe. Or challenge.
“Your familiar doesn’t like me.”
“Ember doesn’t like anyone.” Not entirely true. Ember didn’t like anyone who got too close. The owl had delivered dead mice to Junie’s doorstep for two weeks straight after the chaos witch had hugged Narla too enthusiastically at a party. “Was there anything else, Sheriff?”
He studied her for a beat. Two. Narla held his gaze because looking away would be weakness, and she couldn’t afford weakness. Not with him. Not when the careful distance between them felt paper-thin and ready to ignite.
“No.” He turned to leave, then paused. Over his shoulder: “Be careful tonight, Ms. Wright. Equinox magic is unpredictable.”
