“Was supposed to be a gift!” She jabbed a finger at his jacket, stopping just short of contact. “For Narla. It’s her birthday next week, and I’ve been working on a custom formulation for her candles, and the surge has been making everything insane, and I just wanted to show her that I’m not completely losing my?—”
She stopped. Swallowed hard. Vulnerability flickered across her face—fear, frustration, the kind of exhaustion that went bone-deep—before she slammed walls back into place. Her chin lifted. Her shoulders squared.
“Never mind.” Her voice was flat now. Professional. “Send me a bill. I’ll figure it out.”
She spun on her heel and stalked away, the snake on her shoulder twisting to shoot him one final venomous look before they disappeared into the crowd.
Leo watched her go. The beast clawed at his ribs, demanding he follow, apologize, fix it?—
No.
“Well.” Beck appeared at his side again, but the easy charm was gone. His jaw was tight. “That went well.”
Leo didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His throat was too tight.
“She’s been having a hard time.” Beck’s voice was low, meant only for Leo. “The surge has been messing with her potions for months. Her whole identity is wrapped up in her work.” He finished his beer, set the empty bottle on a nearby table with deliberate care. “Might want to remember that before you go demanding she replace your fancy suit.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a warning from a man who clearly cared about the woman Leo’s beast had just claimed.
Complicated. This is all so damn complicated.
Leo escapedthe dinner at the first socially acceptable opportunity, which turned out to be nearly two hours later. His ruined suit had become a conversation piece—everyone had opinions on the accident, on the potion, on Junie. She hadn’t returned after storming off. Her friends had closed ranks, shooting him looks that ranged from curious to hostile.
The baker had offered him an apology pastry. The storm witch had offered him a dark warning about upsetting her people. Elder Sue had watched the whole thing with unsettling satisfaction.
Now he stood on his suite’s balcony, staring at the moonlit ocean and trying to remember how to think clearly.
Mate.
The lion wouldn’t stop circling the word. “Mate.” His mate. The witch with the red hair and the sharp tongue and the chaos trailing behind her like a comet’s tail. The predator was certain. Absolute. Unmovable in its conviction.
Leo was equally certain about another thing entirely.
No.
He didn’t do fate. He didn’t do destiny. He would not throw his life away because his animal instincts decided some stranger was meant to be his.
He would complete his investigation. Two weeks, less if he pushed. Then he would return to San Francisco, to his pride, to the life he’d built from the ashes of his father’s failures. Haven Shores would become a memory. The red-haired witch would become a footnote in a report he’d file and forget.
Leo gripped the balcony railing until his knuckles went white. The metal bit into his palms. The pain helped. Clear head. Clear purpose.
Sleep was a long time coming.
FOUR
JUNIE
Junie woke to sunlight stabbing through her bedroom curtains and the distinct sensation of wanting to die.
Not literally. Probably. But the memory of last night crashed over her with the subtlety of a tidal wave, and she pulled her pillow over her face with a groan that came from deep in her soul.
She’d ruined his suit. His stupidly expensive, probably-imported-from-Italy, definitely-cost-more-than-her-monthly-rent suit. In front of the entire town. While calling him an idiot with more money than sense.
Glimmer’s tongue flickered against her ear, a cool, questioning touch. The snake had coiled on her pillow overnight, scales shifting from deep purple to concerned violet.
“I know.” Junie’s voice was muffled by the pillow. “I know, I know. It was bad. It was so bad.”
Glimmer’s scales shifted to a rueful violet—sympathy layered over a distinctI told you not to bring that vialenergy.
