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Chapter One
Erik
The witch takes one look at me, and then she slams the door in my face.
I blink, both from surprise and from the snowflakes drifting down from the gray sky above. In all my years in private security, that’s a first. I shake my head, take a deep breath, and knock again.
Coming home is supposed to be, you know, welcoming. Not that this particular dwelling is my home. But this stretch of forest in Norway once was, centuries ago. I’ve been here twice in a week, both times on official Raven Society business. This time, however, it seems I’m being ignored.
Feeling a rumble of heat and impatience from my inner dragon, I raise my fist and knock again. It’s not like I’m some door-to-door salesman. I’ve been sent here to protect a witch who’s gotten in the crosshairs of the Night Guild, an incredibly dangerous criminal organization. Which is not a position many would want to be in—she should be grateful to have someone volunteer to protect her.
After another sixty seconds, I let out a growl and raise my fist to knock a third time. Right as my knuckles graze the red wood, the door flies open. The witch stands there with a frown on her face and her arms crossed over her chest.
“Astrid Olsen?” I ask.
“A dragon shifter?” She rolls her hazel eyes. “Honestly…”
“Honestly, what?” I find myself crossing my arms, too. “Did your mother tell you why I’ve come?”
“I make it a habit to listen as little as possible to what my mother has to say,” she snorts.
So, I guess this is Astrid. My brow wrinkles. “But—you do know the Night Guild has targeted you. And I’m here to protect you?”
“If the Raven Society was serious about protecting me, they’d have sent someone who can actually do magic.” Astrid waves her hand at me and scoffs. “Muscles aren’t going to help against the Night Guild.”
I stiffen. I’m used to women commenting on my physique, but not in this manner. “I’ve been a bodyguard for decades,” I say, my voice beginning to simmer. “I’m quite good.”
“No doubt,” she says with a toss of her head. She’s got long espresso-colored curls which pop out against her pale skin and pink lips. Lips which a moment later spout incredibly salty words. “But not against the Night Guild. If I needed help—which I don’t—the least the Society could do is send someone who can perform spells.”
“And what makes you think I can’t?” I’m not trying to show off, but my inner dragon has grown so agitated that a curl of magic lashes off my body, pewter with a touch of ice-blue.
Astrid doesn’t look impressed. “Possessing magic doesn’t mean you can throw spells.”
“Again, what gives you the impression I can’t?”
“Shifters aren’t exactly known for their spellwork.”
I shake my head again. She’s wrong about me, but pointing that out probably isn’t going to accomplish anything. “Listen, I’m trying to help you here. I don’t know what beef you have with your mom, but this isn’t about her. She didn’t ask for our help—”
“Unsurprising,” Astrid says, her tone flat. “She can’t even remember her granddaughter’s birthday.”
Her comment throws me off guard. “You have a daughter?”
Another eyeroll. “Aaannnddd, you didn’t do your research.”
I’m surprised that information wasn’t in her file. “If you have a daughter, that’s all the more reason you’re going to need my help,” I say firmly. “The Night Guild is serious business. I’ve seen what they can do.”
“I don’t need anyone’s help, most certainly not yours.” Her eyes flash. “I’ve been going it alone for many, many years, I think I can handle it.”
I sigh. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more argumentative person in my whole life. Is she always like this, or did I do something to piss her off? I clearly need a new tactic.
I lock gazes with the stubborn witch. “Ms. Olsen—I understand this is strange, me showing up here like this. I was the one who led the raid on the Night Guild’s nearby base, and when I found the profile they had on you, I offered to come myself instead of sending one of my men. I was born in Norway, not far from here. I want to find out what they’re doing so close to home, and I want to help a fellow native.”
“I really appreciate the effort,” she says, her gaze softening a bit.
It’s hard not to notice how pretty she is, especially now that she’s not yelling at me. Though, truth be told, she’s beautiful then, too. It’s an observation only, however; I keep things strictly professional when I’m on the job. You can’t have any distractions when someone’s life is in your hands. Especially not the kind that come into play when emotions get involved.
Astrid takes a step toward me, and her mouth tightens. “But I don’t need your help. I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
And she slams the door in my face a second time.
