“That sounds great.”
Part of me is aware I should probably be more hesitant to spend time with the woman who turned my world upside down, but something buried deep in my chest aches when I imagine us going our separate ways. Besides, my abrupt introduction to the supernatural world wasn’t Selene’s fault. And the way she took care of me that day… It’s been a long time since anyone looked after me like that. We may not know each other all that well, but I can tell she’s a good person. It’s more than my usual gut feeling too. When I think of Selene, I’m filled with a sense of familiarity, ofknowing, that reverberates through my very being right down to my bones. Maybe it’s a demon thing, this instinct. It sure as hell isn’t normal—I’ll have to ask Huxley about it. For tonight, I’ll put my trust in the mysterious witch and hopefully get some much-needed answers.
Chapter 11
Selene
I’ve done my best to give Jared space after the incident at Threads of Magic. While everything in me longs to be close to my mate, I’m painfully aware he doesn’t feel the same. Heck, he hasn’t even recognised the bond between us yet. Jared only knows me as the woman who pulled the rug out from under him with all the finesse of a sugar-high toddler yelling ‘surprise’.
The evening air is crisp and cool as we make our way through town, and I’m glad for the leather jacket I threw on over my powder-blue jumper before leaving the house this morning. Flame-hued leaves rustle beneath our feet, a reminder that autumn has finally arrived.
“What are you smiling about?”
Jared’s question makes me jump—for someone claiming to have a lengthy list of questions, he’s been surprisingly quiet so far. Then again, each time I’ve stolen a glance at him, noticing the way he’s shortening his long stride to keep pace beside me, it’s been obvious he’s absorbing his surroundings—looking for more signs of the supernatural, maybe?
“Just enjoying the crunchy leaves,” I reply. “There’s something special about this time of year. The old being cleared away, leaving space for something new. I know some peoplethink autumn’s all about things dying and that spring is when the joy returns, but not me. I think this time of year is full of hope, the potential to find something more.”
“You got all that from a few leaves, huh?”
“What, you think I’m being silly?”
“Not at all.” He chews over his next words carefully. “I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“Why?” I ask as we turn onto my street.
“Because you’re a witch—someone withactual magic—yet you’re still able to find a sense of wonder in the ordinary.” Our steps slow until we’re left facing each other in the middle of the pavement. The light press of his large hand against my wrist sends a flutter through me. Jared steps closer, his hazel eyes studying me intently, and I fight the urge to shift on my feet. “You’re not what I expected.”
I huff out a short laugh. “And what exactly did you expect from a witch? A conical hat and broomstick?”
His self-deprecating smile only makes him more endearing. “Actually, I’m not sure, but whatever I might have come up with, I know you’d have always ended up being something more.”
My breaths come quicker, and the high neckline of my jumper suddenly feels too tight. Is this—does Jared somehow know I’m his mate? No, that’s not possible, not while he’s still wearing the amulet. He can’t meanmespecifically. He must have meant witches in general would have been more than he ever imagined—after all, he didn’t know any of this existed until a couple of days ago. That has to be it. Anything else is no more than wishful thinking on my part.
The streetlight overhead illuminates the light blush staining Jared’s cheeks and, before I can conjure a response, he steps back, releasing his gentle hold on my wrist and clearing his throat. Of course my stomach decides this is the perfectopportunity to growl obnoxiously loud. That’s what I get for skipping lunch today.
I duck my head in embarrassment and start walking again. “Come on, my place is right up here.” Jared follows without further comment.
The thatched roof of my cottage and off-kilter gate to my front garden come into view a few minutes later. A few chips of green paint flake off as I wrestle the rickety thing open. “Sorry, I’ve been meaning to fix that for ages.” The last thing I want is for my fated mate to think I don’t take good care of my home, but DIY has never been my strong suit. Brooks has offered to stop by and fix it for me, but he and Gwyn have their hands more than full between the shop and raising Eve. I don’t want to take advantage of their generosity.
At least the cobblestone path to my front door is in good condition, and the flowerpots of winter pansies lining it add a pop of colour. The window boxes full of herbs on either side of my front door look neat, even if they could use a fresh coat of paint.
Jared has to duck to get inside the front door, then again as we head between the living room and kitchen. I glare up at the beams embedded in the ceiling that I once thought gave the place character—now all I can see is a hazard to my mate and a concussion waiting to happen. Damit, I adore this cottage, but I can’t have Jared accidentally bludgeoning himself every time he comes over. Wait, every time he comes over? I need to slow down. Jared doesn’t even know he’s my mate yet. The only reason he’s here to begin with is to learn more about himself and other supernaturals. I can’t get ahead of myself—Jared needs time to adjust before I drop another bomb on him.
“Have a seat. I’ll grab us some plates,” I tell him, waving towards the round kitchen table. “You want something to drink? I’ve got juice, water, tea, or coffee.”
“Water would be great, thanks.”
I set plates and cutlery on the table, and Jared pulls our dinner out of the takeaway bags while I fill two glasses with water.
“This place suits you.”
“How so?”
“It just… feels very you. Sorry, that probably sounds strange seeing as we barely know each other.”
“It’s not as odd as you think,” I assure him, taking the seat opposite him. “Supernaturals can sense magical signatures. Some have a stronger affinity for it than others, but we can always tell when someone is a fellow supe. Unless they’re wearing a dampener like yourself. It’s possible now you’re aware of the magic, some of your abilities will start slipping through. You might subconsciously recognise this space is full of my magical signature because I spend a lot of time here.”
“So, the more time a supe spends in a place, the stronger the buildup of their signature and the easier it is to sense them?” he confirms, leaning forward eagerly.
