Epilogue

Delilah walked away from the door with zero remorse at listening in but satisfied the situation had finally been resolved to her liking. Rowan and Greyson had not been a foregone conclusion. Nor had been the Covens Syndicate decision not to imprison or kill Rowan, given her background and actions.

Now Delilah could turn her full attention to other clients whom she’d basically put on a back burner for the last few weeks as this situation had needed her full attention. She had to check in with Nico on his investigation of the woman who kept fading from sight. And a request to find a supernatural doctor to send up north to attend to an isolated town of elves had recently hit her desk. Except paranormal doctors were a rare breed.

Lost in her thoughts, only finely tuned instinct saved her from being knocked on her ass when a door opened right in her path, stopping inches from her face.

The door closed to reveal the imposing form of Alasdair Blakesley. She kept her expression bland, despite her pounding heart, which had nothing to do with almost being clobbered by the door and everything to do with the visceral reaction this man pulled from her with merely a glance.

How had she not come across this warlock before?

“Excuse me,” she murmured, and went to walk around him.

“Delilah.”

She turned, refusing to acknowledge what his deep voice did to her. “Yes?”

“Your manipulations worked out.”

She raised her eyebrows coolly and said nothing.

“That is the only reason I’m allowing you to walk out of here unchallenged and unscathed.”

Irritation spiked through her blood, along with a reaction she hadn’t felt in years: challenge. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She turned to go, only to be stopped by his hand on her arm, his touch insistent and dragging an immediate reaction of need from her reluctant body.

“I don’t make this warning lightly,” he murmured.

“I believe you.”

“Stay away from my people.”

Now she cocked her head. “I’ll stay away from them if they stay away from me and my clients.”

Alasdair’s lips thinned, his eyes like ice chips. “I understand you have quite a varied clientele. That could prove…difficult.”

She shrugged. His problem. Not hers.

He considered her for a long moment, and she refused to look away from his stare. After a moment, his lips hitched in a shadow of a smile. “Will you at least contact me if witches are involved?”

Delilah pursed her lips. She disliked being cornered or beholden to anyone. “I can’t make guarantees, because it may depend on my client and the privacy privileges they hold with me. But I will when I can. That’s the best I can do.”

He inclined his head, though his jaw hardened. “Fair enough.”

She glanced down at his hand still on her arm, studying his long, tapered fingers and a burn mark across the side. Interesting. “May I go?”

Now he did smile, a real one that reached his eyes, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “I’ll see you again, I’m sure.”

Delilah turned on her stiletto heels and clacked down the hallway, uncomfortably aware of his gaze on her until she rounded a bend.

Not if I see you first.

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