Page 4 of Rafe

“But will you? Maybe yes. Maybe no. I am extending an offer to you, Rafe. I promise you there is no black magick involved per se. But there is something I must have to do the spell.”

“No demon shit?” Rafe laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I know you can hear me quite well. I just told you. No black magick. No demons.”

“What’s the catch?” Rafe didn’t dare give himself hope, yet his curiosity got the best of him.

“It is a special spell, of course. But I need your help finding it. Once you get it for me, we can do the spell.”

“Why don’t you have it now?”

“I just don’t have it,” she hedged.

“Maybe you need to check a different library? You’ve got a couple of homes. Maybe it’s under the bed.” Rafe shoved out of his chair and looked around the room which had begun to morph back into the garden. He patted his chest, now wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He glanced down to the Brunello Cucinelli on his feet. “Nice kicks but I would’ve been good with a pair of Vans.”

“I enjoy luxury. I make no apologies for my good taste.” She shrugged with an elegant indifference.

“I appreciate your hospitality. Phone?”

“In your back pocket. Greyson brought it. He does seem to care about you. Viktor on the other hand?” Ilsbeth rolled her eyes. “He works on my nerves.”

“Don’t be too hard on the vamp. He’s busy with his bonded mate. Probably off on his yacht somewhere.”

“Rafe.” Ilsbeth stood wearing a somber expression. “Please consider my offer.”

The wolf sized up the witch. With the power of an Alpha, her power hummed in the air. The strength of her blood pulsed through him, and it was almost as if he could sense her next words.

“When you are ready, come to me. Life doesn’t need to be this hard.” She smiled and handed him a white rose.

“Thanks for the lunch. You be careful.” Rafe studied the petite witch. Her magick flowed as easily as she breathed, and he wondered if they were even outside or in a different realm altogether.

Ilsbeth raised a bud to her nose and sniffed. “Embrace the magick in your veins. Just remember how strong the rose is.”

Rafe sighed, too damn tired to argue with the witch. “Yeah, okay, sure thing. So hey, I’m gonna go now.”

“Your ride is waiting. Call me when you’re ready, wolf.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll—” Rafe sucked a breath as he dematerialized. Fucking ancients. As he reemerged in his human form, he grunted. “Fuck, me.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening. Get in the car, wolf. Let’s go get a drink.”

Rafe squinted as the bright afternoon sun blinded him, the familiar voice instantly recognizable. Greyson.

2

Skylar Hemlock stared at the words, her thumb brushing over the edge of the page, tempting her to reveal the next chapter. She glanced at the black cat clock on the wall, its curly tail wagging back and forth. Five o’clock. She’d promised to meet friends for a drink at seven. What was I thinking? She sighed. It’s a short chapter. You already know what you’re wearing. Just one more page.

“Nope. There’s not enough time to enjoy it.” She yawned and set the paperback onto her night table. Skylar rolled back into her bed and stared up at the blue celestial lights on her ceiling. Her body ached with exhaustion. Between working at her bookstore and packing up her apartment, she’d been burning it at both ends. “Ugh, why did I agree to go?”

Skylar closed her eyes, her mind racing, dreaming of her upcoming adventure. In a few days, she’d be in Los Angeles, working on a studio lot, living her dream of being on a prime-time TV show. For now, she was Police Officer Two, but the casting director really liked her and had hinted she might have a shot at a permanent role. She’d taken bit parts in New Orleans here and there, but this was her big opportunity to make a living as an actor.

Though she loved her hometown, Seattle, she’d grown far too fond of the Big Easy to move back home after college. Drawn to its whimsy, she’d opened a small bookstore in Marigny. The bookshop, Verses, played to the supernatural vibe of the city, filled with a mix of her favorite romantasy and paranormal romances, including a well curated selection of books dedicated to New Orleans haunted history. They sold celestial themed trinkets & jewelry as well as bookish mugs & totes. Decorated with multicolored mini-lights and a few unique paintings done by local artists, it welcomed readers. It was small but it was all hers. It turned a profit allowing her to focus on her acting, go on auditions and take the occasional day off for filming. It had been the perfect life.

Unlike her romance novels, Skylar’s love life didn’t have a happily ever after. Though she’d ditched the dating apps years ago, she hoped to have a new shot at love in Los Angeles. With a sea of new fish, she’d rally eventually, maybe start dating once she got settled on the show.

But tonight, she’d shove all the thoughts of the future aside and spend some quality girl time with her besties. Three more weeks, and she’d be miles away from New Orleans. Goodbye delicious beignets, hello Hollywood.

Skylar stepped inside her favorite local watering hole. The trumpet solo sang through the buzz of the crowd, the vibrant vibe of Frenchmen Street resonating in the air. Her stomach growled as she passed a server carrying a plate of steaming crawfish. She reminded herself to eat before she drank or she’d end up regretting it later.