So backup was firmly in place.
And yet, when her class started, she couldn’t focus. Every jab was off. Every block came half a second too late. Her voice was clipped when she barked instructions, and she caught herself looking at the door between drills like she expected him to walk in early.
By the time it ended, she was sweaty, pissed off, and more rattled than she wanted to admit. Because whether or not she trusted him, whether or not she liked it, he was coming. And she was going to be fucking ready. Daphne exited the gym, rolling her shoulders, jaw tight with adrenaline and frustration. The cold hit her first, and then the Christmas lights tried to soften the blow.
Like every year, Mystic Hollow had gone full snow globe. Strings of warm white lights looped from lamp post to lamp post, blinking through the gentle swirl of falling snow. The sidewalksglittered; store windows frosted over in soft-edged magic. The whole town had been covered with powdered sugar and sentimentality.In any other moment, she would have let it touch her heart, give her a whisper of hope.
But he was there.
Leaning against the brick wall like he had come from some Christmas edition of a sexy noir novel. No jacket, again, just a worn-out grey t-shirt that fit a little too well and jeans that looked like they had been around. Snowflakes clung to his hair and shoulders, possibly wanting to touch him too. Of course, he looked completely unbothered, because standing in thirty-degree weather in a fitted t-shirt was nothing but normal.
God, she hated how perfect he looked in the snow. Or anywhere else.
Fuck.
She walked to him, took a good look at his face, then simply walked to the cafe, knowing he was following.
They crossed the street in silence and stepped into the coffee shop, the doorbell jingling as warmth wrapped around her. They placed their orders. Peppermint mocha for her. Unexpectedly, a billion-calorie coffee-and-chocolate monstrosity topped with whipped cream for him. Both slid into a corner booth.
He didn’t waste time. “You don’t trust me,” he said, leaning back, hooking an elbow on the backrest, all chill vibes and charm.
She snorted. “Of course I don’t. You’re gorgeous, intense, and weird.”
“Do you have something against any of those?”
“Not unless any means trouble.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, we’ve already established I don’t trust you, so there’s no point in you telling me that.”
Hunter nodded. “Fair. How can I prove myself?”
She eyed him as Shawn and Tom took a seat at a table on the other side of the café. “You can start by telling me how you knew about me wanting to get rid of you.”
He tilted his head, expression unreadable behind that half smirk. “Are your friends sticking around?”
Her blood turned to ice.
There it was again. That uncanny feeling that he was inside her head.
Trying to say something that would pull more out of him, she stared at him. Really stared. At the face that was too symmetrical and perfect. At a body that looked like it had been manifested from a wet dream. The way he moved, like he was listening to music no one else could hear. All the times he’d seemed to respond to things she never said out loud. At how he always seemed to be a step in front of her.
And it hit her.
Oh, fuck me.
Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Maybe tonight is a little soon, but I can’t say I haven’t thought about it.”
Daphne ignored the fact he’d legit read her mind for a second. She leaned forward. “You’re not human.”
He actually paused at that, and for the first time since she met him, he looked uneasy.
“You’re magik,” she said slowly. “Aren’t you?” Magiks were always beautiful. Ridiculously so.
He gave the smallest, most maddening shrug. “I might be.”
Her pulse thudded in her ears. “What are you?”
