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Margot dropped her backpack in the corner of their hotel room and sat down on the edge of one of the twin beds, turning away as Bryce changed shirts before they went out to grab some dinner.
Their room was large, all shades of beige, with beds, a single dresser, and a nightstand between the two beds. The large window looked out over a stone-paved road dotted with groups of tourists, and flute music drifted through the glass from a street band.
"So, we have to track down the witch now," Margot said, turning back to Bryce. She didn't want to stare at Bryce's bare chest and abs, but...yeah, she wanted to stare at his bare chest and abs. The man was ripped.
"Yeah, we'll have to ask around," Bryce said. "Matt didn't exactly have an address, just her name."
"Illary."
"Right," he said. "Are you ready?"
He wore a wrinkle-free button-up shirt and some dark jeans, and he looked devastatingly handsome. She looked down at her rumpled t-shirt and cargo pants. "No, not really. Hang on a sec."
Grabbing her backpack again, she went into the bathroom. She hadn't brought very many clothes, but she'd packed a nicer pair of jeans and a lacy dark blue top, so she changed into those and fixed the messy bun in her hair. While she was in there, digging around, she discovered why her backpack had felt so heavy—her favorite boots had been stuffed in the bottom, without her knowledge.
"What the hell," she muttered, pulling them out.
A small note had been taped to the sole of one of the boots, with a note from Erena.
Sis, I know you'll be too sensible to pack these, but you should bring them. I have good feelings about you and Bryce.
Margot shook her head, smiling to herself. If Erena only knew that Margot and Bryce had apparently been getting it on for the past few weeks, without even realizing it. She couldn't wait to tell her.
After pulling the boots on, she stepped out of the bathroom.
Bryce whistled. "Lookin' good, babe."
"Come on," she said, resisting the urge to giggle. How was she supposed to act around this man who did such strange—amazing—things to her heart? He'd helped Gemma in the Circle, he'd cleaned her bakery with her, and he'd illustrated those jokes for that kid on the plane. Each time, she'd felt more and more drawn to him.
They walked down the cobbled street together with Bryce's hand resting against the small of her back. The restaurant had outdoor seating adjacent to a large courtyard in the center of town, and there they sat as the sky grew darker.
It was like they were a real couple, the way Bryce attended to her, pulling out her chair at the table, asking her what she liked to eat as they reviewed the menu.
A youthful server with the beginnings of a mustache brought them bottled water and rattled off the specials in English. Margot wasn't feeling particularly adventurous, but when else would she be visiting another country? This might be her only chance. She asked the server to bring her his favorite dish, and Bryce asked for the same.
Margot closed her eyes, breathing in the damp mountain air, listening to the flutes and drums playing across the courtyard. She never would’ve thought she'd like this, but it was kind of fun to escape her everyday life and come to this strange new place. Especially because this strange new place included Bryce.
After a moment, she opened her eyes again to see Bryce looking at her.
"If I could've gone into your head just now," he said in an amused voice, "what would I have found?"
Feeling shy, she answered, "Peace."
"You looked peaceful," he said.
"I like it here."
"I do, too." He glanced around the courtyard, taking in their surroundings, before his gaze landed back on Margot. "I like being here with you."
"Bryce," she said, "we can't."
"We can't what?" He frowned.
She reached for his hand on the table and took it in her own. His fingers felt strong, calloused in different places than hers, probably from his bear form. "We can't be together like this. Not while we're here. Maybe—maybe when we go back to Idaho."
He shook his head. "It's my brother, isn't it."
It wasn't a question.
Margot felt her mouth drop open in surprise. "This has nothing to do with Nolan," she said. "I don't love him, I told you that."
"But you're friends with him. Is that a problem for us?"
She searched around in her brain for whatever answer was best—it shouldn't be a problem, should it? But the truth was, Nolan had been wrecked when Bryce arrived. Angry, gruff, like the friend she knew had retreated into a different man. A man with secrets, who was broken inside.
"What happened between the two of you?" she asked.
The server showed up with dishes piled high with fish and shrimp over potatoes and a brilliant orange sauce. Margot thanked him and he left.
Now she faced her gorgeous platter. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but she still had questions about Nolan and Bryce.
"Shall we see what it tastes like?" Bryce asked.
Margot nodded, although her mind was on other things. Bryce, mostly, and why she had to hold back from him.
Maybe holding back wasn't what the situation called for. Maybe she should tell him right now that this was the time, that tonight was the night to make all those dream fantasies real.
But the server came up to their table again. "How is everything?"
"It's wonderful," Bryce said.
Margot took a bite. Subtle but delicious spices filled her mouth and her tongue rejoiced. "Delicious," she said.
The server nodded and smiled, his mustache bending upward with his lips. "My mother, she is the chef."
"Please tell her we love the food," Margot said.
The server turned to go, but Bryce said, "Wait, just a second, if you can."
"Of course," the man said.
"We're here to find someone," Bryce said. "A woman named Illary."
"I do not know a woman called Illary, but my abuela might," the server said. "I'll ask her for you, she lives just upstairs." He pointed to the second story above the little restaurant.
"Thanks, we would appreciate it," Margot said.
The server left, and Margot and Bryce looked at each other.
Margot pointed at him with her fork, not caring if she looked rude. "You didn't answer my question about Nolan."
"He hasn't told you?" Bryce asked, bitterness making his voice hard.
"No, or I wouldn't be asking." Margot stared him down.
Instead of answering, he took a bite of his dinner. Margot wanted to reach across the bright tablecloth and grip the collar of his shirt, whether to shake him or kiss him, she didn't know.
She didn't move to take a bite. She was determined to get an answer. All this time, she'd been taking Nolan's side in a conflict she didn't understand because neither of them had told her anything. As a loyal friend to Nolan, she'd assumed he was in the right. So what was Bryce's part in this?
Bryce set down his fork and took his time chewing and swallowing. Margot narrowed her eyes at him.
"Okay," he said. "The short version is our dad sent me away before he died. He knew he was dying, and he came to me in a dream and told me to go. In our clan, that was like desertion. It made me an outlaw. Ian, too."
"And Nolan...?"
"Nolan didn't get it," Bryce said. "He didn't understand dad's dreams, or mine. Dad wasn't talking to anyone at that point—his body and mind were failing. Nolan couldn't have had a clue that I'd gotten a message, and like the typical jackass he is, he didn't let me explain."
Margot frowned. "Nolan's not a jackass."
Bryce shook his head. "I'm his brother, and to me, he's a jackass. But I get that he's your friend. But just because I'm his enemy doesn't mean I need to be yours."
"You're not my enemy," she whispered. She'd kissed this man, she'd allowed him into her dreams, she'd thought of him almost constantly since he arrived at the RCC territory.
The server approached, beaming. Margot felt her shoulders fall with disappointment because she wanted to keep talking to Bryce. But they had work to do. Margot smiled back and waved him over.
"My abuela knows everyone," he said proudly when he reached the table, "and she knows the woman called Illary. A bruja, she said. Witch." He laughed.
Margot forced herself to laugh, too.
"Ridiculous, right?" the server said. "All these superstitions. Entonces, my grandmother says that the witch lives beyond the town on the dark mountain. Her house is the only one there so you cannot miss it."
"Where's the dark mountain?" Bryce asked.
The server pointed behind the restaurant, where one of many mountains rose up. "It is there. My grandmother says that the witch's house is along the path."
They thanked the man and hurried through the rest of their dinner. Margot wished they could linger—she wanted to talk more with Bryce about his past and just pretend, for a little while, that they were here to enjoy each other's company, not to do a job.
*
MARGOT HAD CHANGED out of her nice jeans and top, exchanging them for her cargo pants and soft, long-sleeved tee. Bryce walked beside her as they made their way up the dark mountain.
"Sure is dark," Margot said. "I guess it lives up to its name of Dark Mountain."
She wasn't crazy about being out here in a strange territory, away from her clan and approaching a woman who may or may not be a real witch. At least Bryce was here.
"I'd feel better if you'd shift into your fox," he said.
Margot considered it. "No, I want to be able to talk to Illary. If she doesn't know about shifters, I don't want to be the one to tell her."
Fog had rolled in across the mountains and hills, and Margot was glad for the steep hike. The two walked in silence, although Margot's mind whirled with questions. She wanted to know more about Bryce and Nolan. She wanted to know how Bryce felt about her. She was drawn to him—after their kiss in her bakery, there was no denying it any longer. Were his feelings the same?
Bryce stopped all of a sudden, and yanked off his shoes. Margot nearly plowed into him, sliding a little on the muddy path.
"What is it?" Margot asked, and then she said, "Oh."
A wild scent filled the air—the same as the shifter they'd smelled on the airplane.
They weren't the first to seek the bruja on the dark mountain.
Bryce pulled off his pants.
A low growl reached Margot's ears and the faint moonlight caught the reflection of two wolfish eyes staring, unblinking, from the shadows of the vegetation.
"Hide!" Bryce shouted, ripping off his shirt.
Margot didn't bother undressing. She let her fox form take over, her bones snapping and breaking, her body shrinking. The sounds of Bryce's shift filled her ears, but she was covered in darkness, tangled in her shirt.
She forced her way out of the shirt. A roar sounded—Bryce's roar, as the wolf went not for Bryce, but came straight for Margot.