Page 58 of Werewolves and Witches AU

“My best friend. And local coven member,” he tosses out.

“Of course he is,” I grumble, lifting my face skyward and scrubbing my hands over my face. “Bear needs to keep a closer eye on who you’re contacting.”

I say Bear should do it, but make a mental note to take over the monitoring of Milo’s phone myself. Specifically, to add my number to his phone… just in case.

22

Zero Probability Event

Milo

I stare hard at the new contact in my phone, thumb hovering just above Ranger’s name on the screen while I chew on my bottom lip. He just… held out his hand when we pulled up on the drive, and I just… handed it over, and he just… entered his number. As if it were that simple. As if he wanted me to have his contact and so… now I do.

Am I… allowed to just… call him?

When this is done, and when we’ve saved the world—I snort at that thought—would he maybe come out for dinner with me? I know preparing the food is important, but surely sometimes he’d like a night off from that? And so, we could eat… together… not as my bodyguard, which I guess is what he is right now. But after? When he’s not responsible for me, would he like to be something else?

My gaze strays his way. On the surface, he looks like any other guy who just parked his truck and is checking messages on his phone before going into the house. One foot’s still in the truck, but his door is wide open, and the other foot’s planted firmly on the driveway. A contemplative frown is etched into his forehead, and I’m learning enough about him now to decipher what all this really means.

He’s not checking for messages, because the Dogs won’t have made their Italian safe house yet. He’s checking the Nest’s security logs before we enter. That’s also the reason the engine’s still idling: his wolf is scanning the environment in real time, while that app on his phone will inform him of any suspicious activity while we were gone. Depending on what he finds, he’s prepared to either drive us out of here, or engage in another fight with Time Guy.

Thoughts of a romantic dinner with Rowan abandoned, I too check all the truck’s mirrors, and stare hard at the high hedge that marks the property’s boundary. I’d forgotten, for a minute, why I’m really here. Got lost in the fantasy that in some alternate universe, there’s a version of me and Rowan who get a coffee shop date that doesn’t end in a smashed window and bloodshed, or where, whenever he looks at me, he doesn’t see a “job” but a person—a person he might like to get to know better.

My head thumps back on the seat. Dream on, Milo. Time Guy is still out there… somewhere, and with the rest of his unit away, Rowan’s broad shoulders are carrying the full weight of not only the responsibility for my safety but for his entire Bloodline.

Until Operation Tempo comes through with an identity for this Time Guy, we’re relying on some ancient enchantment neither of us know anything about. What if the Luna del Lupo has a finite number of uses, or something? The next time will be time number three, and then what if that’s it? Or what if, when I took hold of Rowan’s wolf’s fur in the coffee shop and extended its protective qualities to him, that was time number three… and now it’s already out of uses?

My whole body shudders at the thought.

“Ye good, Pup?” Rowan asks, pocketing his phone.

Unsure how to even begin putting into words the enormity of everything rattling around inside my skull box right now, I nod and force a smile that I know doesn’t meet my eyes.

When he finally kills the engine and climbs out of the truck, he raps his knuckles on the roof.

“I’m sorry ye chat with Ethel was a bust. But I did at least learn where…” He lets his gaze wander up and down the full length of my body. “Ye get it from.”

With a wink, he straightens to his full height—cutting off my view of his face—and slams the truck door. He doesn’t wait before turning on his heel and striding toward the front porch.

Any and all thoughts of the threat from Time Guy vanish in an instant. Probably, they tumble straight out of the gaping hole my mouth creates now that my jaw’s hanging open. Did he just…?

I scramble to unfasten my seatbelt and climb out of the truck. It locks behind me with a loud beep, and I all but chase Rowan into the house. By the time I catch up to him, he’s already in the living room unrolling another sheet of Kraft paper, which he pins directly over the top of Guardian’s explanation of the layout of the Office of Time.

Rowan doesn’t acknowledge me, and now that I’m here, watching him bite the lid from a Sharpie, I forget why I was so energised a second ago.

He draws a thick black line to split the page in two, and the column on the left he titles, “LdL.” Underneath, in neat block capitals he writes, “enchantment, possibly of a human?”

That’s right… Ethel had suggested that. I’d forgotten that too.

Locking in, my brain engages on a whole new track. Do I know a spell that could reveal if a person had a concealed enchantment? Or even one that would help me transfer it from the person into an external object?

Rowan taps his finger on the words, “We’ll keep investigating this enchantment aspect.”

Then on the right-hand side of the paper, he writes, “Lost Colony.” “But I was thinking on the drive back about the potential connection between these two things, and if we can utilise that somehow.”

He recaps the pen, drops into the sofa chair, and crosses one ankle over his knee. “When we asked ye about all this yesterday, we were missing some significant intel. So, my apologies, Milo, but I think it might be helpful if we go over it again. From the beginning.”

Following his example, I flop onto the middle seat of the sofa, almost exactly where I sat the first time we did this.