"I need ten minutes alone with her." Brynn drums her gnarled fingers against the couch. "A necessary calibration before the spell. The glamour needs to sync with her energy signature."
Logan’s response is imdiate. "No."
The word lands between us like a brick. His posture shifts subtly—shoulders squared, jaw set. Alpha mode activated.
The witch’s old eyes glitter with amusent. "Scared of what I’ll say, or what she might admit?"
I nudge Logan with my elbow, keeping my voice low. Ti to be mature, calm, rational Nicole, not the crazy jealous version of I’ve been since I learned of her existence. "I’m fine. Ten minutes. You’ll be in the next room, right?"
His expression darkens. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he stares down at Brynn, who ets his gaze with undisguised delight. I can practically feel the testosterone radiating off him.
"Ten minutes," he finally growls. The look he gives says it all: scream and I’ll co running.
Unlike Logan—or Penelope—my mate bond/BFF telepathy works great, thank you very much. I get what they’re trying to tell with their eyes. Too bad they don’t have the sa skill.
The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and I’m left alone with the witch.
Brynn’s fingers snap—a sharp, crisp sound in the quiet apartnt. The air compresses suddenly, a quiet pop pressing against my eardrums followed by a subtle shift in pressure. My skin prickles.
A ward now exists where one wasn’t before, surrounding us.
"Don’t worry," she says, noticing my startled expression. "It’s just so he doesn’t hear what we need to talk about."
"How did you do that so fast? I didn’t sense anything until it snapped."
Brynn’s smile blooms slowly across her ancient face. "Everyone has their secrets, darling."
She studies with unsettling intensity, her rheumy eyes suddenly sharp and focused. It’s like being dissected by a surgeon—thodical, ticulous, missing nothing. "You’re having trouble controlling your emotions when it cos to your wolf, aren’t you?"
My spine stiffens. "I’m human."
Brynn snorts, the sound too vigorous for her frail appearance. "Don’t play coy with , girl."
I look away, focusing on the cityscape beyond the penthouse windows. The silence stretches between us until I can’t bear it anymore.
"It might be... a small problem."
"Small?" She chuckles. "Is that what we’re calling it?"
Heat rises to my cheeks. "I don’t see how my emotional state is relevant to a glamour spell."
"You usually a jealous person?" she asks, ignoring my deflection.
"No. Never." The answer cos easily because it’s true. Before Logan, I’d never experienced this possessive rage. Scott had been free to flirt with colleagues at office parties, and I’d rolled my eyes at most. It had taken catching him in the act, pasty ass in the air and dick in another woman’s vagina, for my anger to spark.
But with Logan... a simple implication sends my blood pressure skyrocketing.
The air around Brynn shimrs suddenly—like heat rising from asphalt in sumr. The magic peels away in luminescent layers, revealing smooth skin where wrinkles had been monts before. The transformation is srizing.
Her hunched posture straightens. Gray hair darkens to rich chocolate brown, flowing in silky waves past her shoulders.
Before sits a stunning twenty-sothing with luminous skin and silver eyes, catching the light like polished rcury. Inhuman and beautiful. She rises gracefully from the couch, her movents graceful and a little sinister.
"This is what I really look like," she says, her voice no longer crackly but lodic. She gestures to her perfect form. "But your wolf? Won’t touch . Not even to save his own life."
Logically, I know she’s right. Logan is moral. Loyal. A man who rejected the first ti over a re engagent misunderstanding.
But my bond doesn’t care about logic.
My body tenses automatically. My thoughts turn sharp and bitter. I scowl at the illusion, my lips curling slightly in instinctive disgust.
Mine.
The thought crashes through my consciousness with primitive force. I don’t even recognize the possessive voice in my head.
Brynn shifts back to her crone form with a flourish, laughing in pure, unfiltered joy. It’s even weirder on her old face.
"Oh, this is better than I thought," she says, clapping her hands together like a delighted child with a new toy. "Your bond’s a ss, girl. Completely out of control."
She settles back onto the couch, adjusting her shawl around bony shoulders. Was she wearing one before? Suddenly, I can’t rember. In fact, I’m not even sure her face is the sa as last ti. And... what did she look like just seconds ago?
Strange. I can rember, but I can’t... see it.
"Your magic’s a ss, too." She tilts her head, examining from a different angle. "Looks like you had a breakthrough, though. Good for you."
"Thanks," I mutter sourly, wondering how she can see all this so easily. "Now that you’ve had your fun, what exactly is your relationship with Logan? The unedited version."
My possessiveness is still prickly and angry under my skin, urging to leap forward and claw her old lady eyeballs out.
I resist.
Brynn sighs dramatically, her frail shoulders rising and falling. "I’ve helped him out of a few sticky situations over the years. He buys my unique skillset, and I deliver." She raises a finger to her lips and winks. "But he can’t talk. No no. My work always cos with a contract."
I blink. Blink again as understanding clicks into place.
"Logan can’t talk about any of it because he’s under contract with you."
Brynn smiles. "Bingo."
"Do any of those contracts involve ?"
She giggles, the sound girlish and incongruous coming from her ancient form. "I don’t tattle. Secrecy is currency in my world, darling."
Her eyes soften unexpectedly, the mirth fading into sothing almost like compassion.
"You’re lucky your bond’s with soone honorable," she adds, her voice dropping lower. "Otherwise? You’d already be consud by it."
I swallow hard, unsure if that’s comfort or warning.
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