Page 9

I’m late to the coven meeting. Totally unacceptable and so unlike me.

I know I’m in trouble the moment I hear Jewel’s voice droning from the other side of the office door, but I still have a pile of applications to go through. Up until then, I was in a groove: moving accepted applicants into one file and rejected applicants into the next, drafting emails for both.

Rejecting is the worst part of the job, but I can’t accept everyone, no matter how much I’d like to. Starbrook’s recent developments—new businesses and such—have put the little town on the map, and people from all around Maine want to partake in our festival.

So, how do I allow the heart of Starbrook to remain while inviting our neighbors to join in on the festivities? That’s the balance I’m struggling with.

Then the meeting begins, and I’m a fluttering mess of papers, scribbling words I can hardly read, and probably moving applications to the wrong files. It’s fine. I can double-check my work later.

I need to get to the meeting. I’m supposed to be there. This wouldn’t be acceptable as a coven leader, and even though I’m not one yet, I should be acting like I am.

But the pile never gets down to the bottom, so my flurry continues until someone enters—probably Jewel here to lecture me for being late. I can’t blame her. It’s a bad look, but maybe she’ll understand. Work is important, too.

Jewel is the head of the coven and also leads human and magical relations in Starbrook. Like me, she has her foot in both the witch and government business, meaning she’s one of the few who can understand both sides of who I am.

When I look up to make my excuses, it isn’t Jewel.

It isn’t someone I ever thought I would see again.

It’s her. Aurora.

I would call her the one that got away, but really, I ran away as she was pushing me out. It was for her good. She meets my gaze with her big doe eyes and her pale complexion, and it’s like I’m seeing a ghost—even aside from her looking an awful lot like a ghost. I have some experience with those, too, but there’s too much liveliness in her to actually be like the people who haunt me.

After we slept together, I left her behind. It was supposed to be enough to get it out of my system. Sex. Romance, though our night wasn’t particularly romantic.

That was the last time I slept with anyone.

Aurora seems like she’s been doing fine without me; she’s as stunning as the first night we met.

The white streaks at the front of her hair have grown. There were a few the last time I saw her, but now they’re completely taking over, kissing half of her bangs and the temples and growing down into the lengths of her dark, wavy hair. I want to wrap my fingers up in it—but no.

Dead. Gone. Not here for that. I’ve managed to keep my mind off her for three years—aside from rare moments, usually when I’m alone in bed. During those times, her dark eyes pop into my head. Her smile. And the sound of her moaning.

But what in the hell is she doing here?

My jaw is slack, and I’ve been staring for far too long.

I clear my throat, regaining my composure. “I’m sorry. Can I help you with anything? You look lost.”

“I—help me?” She doesn’t get out more than those three words. Two and a half, really.

“Yes,” I say slowly. “I work here. I would be happy to assist you with finding your way around, but the place isn’t all that big…”

She recognizes me. I can tell by the way she’s staring as if she’s the one seeing a ghost, but I can’t bring myself to acknowledge what we are. Or what we were for one fleeting night. Three years have passed, and someone like Aurora—free and bold and always going after exactly what she wants—is surely over me by now.

At least, that’s the way I paint her in my mind. I don’t know her. Not really. Not beyond the night we spent together, when I tasted her on my tongue and made her come. Twice.

That wasn’t enough, but now it’s too much. This is the new family in Starbrook, which means we’re going to be running into each other. It’s inevitable.

I stalk toward her, half expecting her to run away, but she’s frozen.

“Do you seriously not recognize me?” The ice around her melts, her arms crossing as she glares right at me. Pure fire. “Or are you just being a jerk?”

“I’m at my place of work.” I push my glasses up my nose. “I’m being professional.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t work here, and I don’t plan on it. No need to be professional with me. Not sure if you remember, but you stuck your tongue up my pussy.”

What was I expecting her to say? Definitely not that.