Page 55 of Beauty and the Beastmaster

The dogs were getting restless, shuffling this way and that. With a nod of his head and a push, Silas put Judge in charge of the pack and sent them on their way, down to The Egg and back again.

Judge loved being in charge.

Silas peeked in on Mia, who slept on. “How about dinner tonight?” he asked. “We can go to Eve’s.”

“I’ll cook,” Gabi said. “I have a hankering for shrimp and grits.”

“Sounds good to me.” Should he ask Damian to stay with the dogs tonight or not? Maybe he’d ask, just in case.

He’d tell Gabi he loved her here and now, but he understood how she’d come to distrust those words, thanks to her ex. He’d move slowly from here on out, if that’s what it took. He’d give her time to get to know all of him, to heal, to accept that the bad part of her life was over.

If she’d allow it, he’d protect her from now until the end of time.

“I’ll bring dessert,” he said.

“Deal.”

Silas saw Judge and the pack returning. He’d have to take over for the bloodhound and herd the dogs the rest of the way home.

Gabi looked up at him and smiled. “Bring a change of clothes and a toothbrush, too, if you’d like. I cleaned out a drawer for you.”

He didn’t know what to say.

“You don’t have to use it, if you don’t want to,” she said. “I don’t normally move so fast, but I have a lot of time to make up for.”

Judge stopped beside Mia’s stroller; the rest of the pack kept going. Silas was out of time, so he just nodded and left with nothing more than a quick, “See you later.”

But as he ran toward home he smiled.

I cleaned out a drawer for you.

* * *

Blake reclined on the uncomfortable cot and tried, not for the first time, to use his newfound powers in some way. He’d felt them come to life before he’d met Jenna, and then she’d taught him so much. But at the moment, he couldn’t even call up a spark or a breeze. In fact, he felt exactly as he had before he’d come to this town.

Incomplete. Angry. Now he knew what had been missing all these years. He’d tasted power, and now it was gone.

The cells themselves were cursed. He’d have to be patient. They couldn’t hold him here forever!

Cursed and utilitarian. There was a sink and toilet. The cot. He was literally behind bars. There was a slight opening in the bottom, there to one side, which the chief used three times a day to pass his prisoner food and water. It wasn’t even good food; it was mostly sandwiches and bagged chips, and the water wasn’t cold.

Blake could see part of the desk where the police chief sat, and now and then he saw the chief himself. He could hear everything that was said, which was normally not at all interesting. He only cared when they were talking about him.

Today their talk was all about the election. Local politics. Was there anything more boring?

It was past time for lunch when the front door opened and closed, and a frantic woman Blake couldn’t see called for the chief to come to the polling place immediately. When she tried to explain why, she mumbled her words and cried out in distress, until the chief sighed, looked in on Blake, and left.

They never left him alone for long. He wasn’t sure why, since he couldn’t go anywhere or do anything, but someone was always in the front room. Again, Blake tried to call up the magic he’d found and lost. Nothing. Nothing!

The front door opened and closed again. Blake peeked around the corner, wondering if the chief had already returned. Instead of the man he expected to see, an elderly woman with jet black hair approached. She placed a tall cake on the end of the desk and called out, “Yoohoo, Chief Benedict?”

As if there were many places in this building to hide.

“He’s not here!” Blake called.

The woman walked toward him, smiling a wrinkly, false-toothed grin. “Oh, you must be Blake Pierce.”

“I am.” It was a small town. He imagined everyone knew who he was and what he’d been accused of.