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The ashes burst into flame again, the flames twisting until they took on the form of a bird. The bird—the phoenix—stretched its wings and flew away, bits of fire and ash falling from its breathtaking orange and yellow and blue feathers as it climbed higher and higher, until it disappeared from view.

“That was amazing,” my uncle had said.

I couldn’t disagree.

That sort of inadvertent near interaction happened time and again, for months. The vat of steaming coffee that tipped over as he walked by Café du Monde. That unfortunate incident in the wine cellar at Antoine’s.

To be clear, I hadn’t actually been dining at Antoine’s, which was not only the country’s oldest family-owned restaurant but also far, far out of my price range.

No, I worked there. That was where I’d perfected my coffee-making skills. They’d needed a fancy drink for the brunch menu, and I’d come through for them.

One of my rare moments of not screwing something up.

Because I’d not used my magic.

I’d been heartbroken when a wall of wine racks had collapsed onto River, who had been in there (luckily alone) as part of an exclusive wine cellar tour. Not only because—yet again—he’d been forced to regenerate, but also because I’d loved that job, loved my coworkers, loved the fact that my magic hadn’t tainted the place.

Until that moment.

Rather than gaining control of my magic, it became harder and harder to manage it, until one day, the phoenix—River—disappeared without a trace.

He’d left New Orleans.

Because of me. My magic.

My uncle got so frustrated, he threatened to tell my family about all those accidental, near-killings. “I am trying to help you, and all you do is make things worse,” he shouted at me.

While I was used to my family’s teasing and bullying about my magic, the idea that I’d forced someone to uproot themselves from their life—not to mention the inadvertent forced regeneration, over and over—was too much to bear.

So, I ran away and ended up here, in Arrythmia.

I suppose I should not be surprised that River had ended up, also, in this tiny town hidden from anyone except those who really, truly needed to be here.

“I’m going to have a look out front,” Asmoday announced before striding away, Queenie and Daruka on his heels.

Wait. No. They couldn’t leave me alone with this guy. This phoenix.

River.

A man who was far, far too attractive for my own good. Too intense. Too tattooed.

Damn, he had some beautiful ink.

I’d hated myself a little more each time I’d forced him to regenerate. I’d probably hate the sensation of killing anyone, even if I weren’t attracted to them, but the fact that I felt this ridiculous pull toward him made the process that much harder to accept each time I did it. Considering how terrible I was at using magic, it was surprising I hadn’t bungled one of his deaths any worse than I had.

Oh, wait.

I had bungled one of his deaths. The last one, before he disappeared off the radar.

River suddenly thrust out his arm, stabbed a finger in the direction Asmoday, Daruka, and Queenie just disappeared.

“Why aren’t you attracted to that guy?” he demanded.

Okay, not what I was expecting.

Chapter

Four