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And yet, as we walked back towards Blackthorn Manor, I found myself glancing at her again and again. Her long brown hair was tangled from running through the woods, her pretty cheeks were still flushed from crying, and her ridiculous orange shirt was far too short to be considered decent clothing.

But she was lovely. So damned lovely that I could scarcely take my eyes off her. And I couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd felt in my arms.

I had spent a hundred years unable to touch another living soul, and now, in the space of a single night and morning, I'd held a beautiful woman against my chest and felt her cling to me as though I was the only thing standing between her and certain death.

Which, come to think of it, I suppose I had been…but that wasn't the point.

The point was that I had been able to comfort her. I'd been able to hold her and stroke her back and tell her that everything was going to be all right. And the feeling of her soft, warm body pressed against mine had been so wonderful that I was already longing to experience it again.

Damn it all! What was wrong with me? I hardly knew the woman! And what little I did know about her suggested that she was stubborn, argumentative, and entirely too willing to disregard perfectly reasonable instructions. Not to mention that she had already slapped me across the face and insulted my haunting techniques.

Still, I couldn't seem to get her out of my mind. And there was something else bothering me, too.

When I had seen that troll reaching for her, I'd been filled with such fury that I hadn't even stopped to think about what I was saying. I'd simply roared at the creature to leave her alone. But now, as I remembered my own words, I felt a strange sense of unease.

Leave my woman alone, I had said. My woman. Why the devil had I called her that?

Celeste Kinderson wasn't my woman. She wasn't anything to me except a guest in my house and a newly awakened witch who might possibly have the power to break my curse, if I was lucky. That was all.

And yet, when I remembered the sight of that filthy troll reaching for her, I felt the same fierce, possessive rage rising inside me all over again. I had wanted to tear the creature limb from limb for daring to threaten her. And if I'd had my Gryphon's body at my disposal, I would have done exactly that!

I glanced down at Celeste, who was walking beside me, looking much more cheerful now that the immediate danger had passed. She was chattering about how she loved it that the leaves were changing color in Hidden Hollow, and how she wished she'd brought a sweater because she wasn't used to such chilly weather because she lived in Florida—which, to my knowledge, was little more than a putrid swamp.

I ought to have been listening to her, but all I could think about was how close I'd come to losing her before I'd even had a chance to know her.

I tried to push the thought away. I had only just met the woman, there was no reason for me to feel so protective of her. No reason at all.

But as we passed through the iron gates and started up the long drive towards Blackthorn Manor, I found myself drifting a little closer to her, keeping myself between her and the dark forest…just in case another troll appeared, of course. That was all.

At least, that was what I told myself.

9

CELESTE

“Well, don’t you look like a proper lady,” Bartleby purred, looking me up and down. “A lady from a hundred years ago, but a lady nonetheless.”

“Oh, hush,” I told the cat as I examined myself in the full-length mirror in the corner of my bedroom. “I think it looks nice—like I’m dressed up for a fancy tea party or something.”

Garrik had invited me to wear some of his late wife’s clothing—which I sensed was a big deal to him, though he’d tried to play it off.

“You are about the size of my dear Lucinda, and I can’t have you running around the town in long johns,” he’d said, making a face at my yoga pants. “It would reflect poorly on my house and my hospitality.”

“They’re not long johns,” I said impatiently. “They’re⁠—”

“I don’t care what they are, you are a guest in my house and as long as you remain so, you will dress appropriately in public,” he growled. “Now come with me and I’ll show you Lucinda’s closet. I could never bear to get rid of her clothing after she passed,” he added in a melancholy tone.

I had followed him to another elaborate bedroom and opened the wardrobe he pointed to. It was filled with colorful silk and linen dresses, and I had chosen a dark green one that matched my eyes. Garrik had also offered me a mink stole to wrap around my shoulders, but I was reluctant to accept it.

“This is so expensive—what if someone steals it or it gets lost?” I asked, stroking the incredibly soft fur.

“Nonsense,” he said, frowning. “No one’s going to steal anything in Hidden Hollow—they only accept respectable witches and Creatures there. And even if something did happen to it, what does it matter? It’s no good to anyone hanging in the closet. I’d much rather see it used again.”

So now I was wearing it around my shoulders as I admired myself in the mirror. I had to admit that the green dress fit me like a glove and clung to my curves in an extremely flattering way. It certainly looked nicer than my yoga pants and orange T-shirt.

Also, since I’m the kind of person who keeps everything in my purse, I’d been able to dig out a few cosmetics to cover my dark circles. I’d also put on a little bronzer, eyeliner, and lip stain. Then I’d fixed my hair and now I was feeling almost pretty, which was nice since I usually didn’t pay that much attention to my appearance. Mostly, I just wanted to be sure I looked decent for work.

But now I was going into a strange magical town to meet a witch, and I wanted to look my best.