Page 76 of Rafe

“Nice car,” Skylar commented.

“Ilsbeth only rides in style.” Rafe reached for her hand.

Greyson stepped toward the path leading to her home. “Stay on your game, people. She’s not to be messed with. If she starts asking you to go to Hell or some bullshit, we’re outta here.”

“You need to chill, big guy.” Rafe patted his shoulder and smiled. “I keep tellin’ ya. She’s not going to hurt me.”

Skylar noted their friendly banter despite their differences. The ancient debonair vampire wore a dark grey linen suit with a cream knit shirt. In contrast, the rugged handsome wolf wore jeans and a black t-shirt that hugged every inch of his bulging pecs.

A cool breeze rushed over her shoulders, her skin breaking in gooseflesh. Like an ethereal being, Ilsbeth appeared, dressed in a translucent floor length robe, the silhouette of her one-piece bathing suit peeking through the fabric as she sashayed toward them.

“What in the Great Gatsby is going on here?” Rafe asked.

“Darling. That was the 20s,” She waved to them from the veranda. “Come, have a drink on the back patio. The weather’s divine.”

“She’s lost her mind. I’m convinced of it.” Greyson shook his head and headed toward the witch.

“She’s eccentric,” Skylar countered.

“I can’t argue with that,” Rafe said.

“Never forget who she is. She was the High Priestess of New Orleans, Samantha or no Samantha,” Greyson grumbled.

“I hear you.” Ilsbeth released an exasperated breath.

“Ilsbeth,” Greyson called to her. He looked back to Skylar and winked. “For an old lady her hearing seems pretty good.”

“I’ll cut your tongue out and feed it to the gators, vampire.” Ilsbeth turned on her heels and headed through a pathway of purple wisteria creeping over a white wooden structure. “I want to see the human. She has good taste.”

Skylar raised her eyebrows at Rafe and Greyson, a smile on her face. The big bad witch liked her. She’d class it as a win.

“I love your home,” Skylar told her, inwardly reminding herself of the repeated warnings she’d been given. She’d been told Ilsbeth nearly killed another wolf, she was capable of summoning demons. Yet her welcoming warm southern hospitality admittedly had conjured feelings of home.

“Why thank you. These men,” she scoffed. “They don’t appreciate my attention to detail. Look at them.”

Skylar glanced to Rafe who waved from the grass.

“Bocci ball. Greyson is like a boy. I knew he couldn’t resist.” Ilsbeth waved to a butler dressed head to toe in a lavender uniform.

“How long have you known Greyson?” Skylar asked

“Too long. Sometimes a good time. Mostly not. But today, I needed time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time for you, of course.” Ilsbeth set down her iced tea and adjusted her sunglasses.

“High Priestess. May I freshen your drink?” The butler spoke with a French accent.

“Thank you, Henri. Skylar, would you like some more tea? A mineral water?”

“Water would be great.”

“Perrier? Plain or lime.”

“Lime would be wonderful. Thank you.”

“Are you hot? I’m afraid a Louisiana summer is a steam bath. But good for the skin as long as you stay out of the scorching sun.”