They switched cars again, this time driving away in an old Camry that looked like it had seen better days. They’d found it in a junkyard and, thanks to Verika’s magic, were able to make the engine work. Elijah had begrudgingly let go of fifty bucks because he had bet the witch she couldn’t make that piece of shit run. Yet another lesson learned the hard way. That was practically his mantra by now.

“Did you tell your parents we were coming?” Elijah inquired, as they pulled into a quiet, well-kept suburb. Every lawn was mowed and raked, with fresh coats of paint on the houses and fall flowers bunched into expensive-looking pots. It wasn’t ritzy by any means, but it was a far cry from the neighborhood he’d grown up in when he’d lived in the city as a little kid.

“No,” Verika said, as she pulled into the driveway of a pretty two-story yellow house with white shutters and two white rocking chairs on the front porch. “In case the DPI has the lines bugged, I didn’t want to risk it.”

“And they don’t have other ways of spying on you?” he asked doubtfully as she pulled around back. The driveway looked like it had been added onto, stretching around back to another little parking lot in front of a storage shed. Pine trees and a tall, well-made fence surrounded the property, keeping it pretty well hidden from prying eyes.

Verika grinned as she wrenched the gears into park and the engine died with a sigh, as if relieved not to be running anymore. “Of course they do. But thankfully, I had the foresight to ward the place.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Yeah. Sort of.” She shrugged, not concerned with it.

He smiled a little. So, there was a bad girl in that angelic wrapping after all. The earlier heat at holding her in his arms—a feeling he hadn’t been able to get out of his head, nor how easy it would have been to kiss her right there—still lingered south of his navel. Damn, this witch was making him awfully horny. He attributed that to the fact he hadn’t seen any bedroom action in quite a while, not since he’d gotten on Mistress Black’s bad side.

A tremble made his gait stiff as they walked toward the back door. Mistress Black was easily one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. And one of the most vicious, it turned out. But that hadn’t mattered, not when he’d heard her siren song as she lured him to her bed.

“We can’t stay here long, just for one night,” Verika said, whispering a spell at the door. He heard a soft click and she twisted the knob. “The department thinks I’ve severed all ties with my family.”

“Why would you do something like that?”

“To keep them safe.” Her voice grew smaller, her hand lingering around the doorknob. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to them. They’re all I have.”

He thought about how lonely she must be. “Then why did you leave?”

Verika shrugged, hiding her gaze. He had the feeling he’d uncovered a sore topic.

“You’ve seen this place. There isn’t much here. And there are a lot of locals who view witchcraft as being something the Devil made up.” She looked at him, grave determination shining in her eyes. “My parents encouraged me to get out of here and go somewhere my gifts could be appreciated. They never made me feel ashamed of who I was.”

He softened. “They sound amazing.”

“They are.” She opened the door and they went inside.

The back door led to the kitchen. The interior looked like a cottage. The polished wooden floors were a warm golden hue, and all the cabinetry and trim were white. The walls were all painted the same color, a paler yellow that complemented the sunny trimmings. It looked cheerful, like the house itself was filled with happiness. He wished his own home had been this way. Their father would never let their mother paint, and since she was so submissive, everything had remained in the dull, drab off-white color as when they’d first moved into their farm house.

“Mom?” Verika called. “Dad?” She waited a few seconds in silence. “Guess they’re out. You thirsty?”

“No, thanks,” he said, waving her away. “I wouldn’t mind taking a nap, though. My body feels like it’s been put through a blender.”

Verika snorted, retrieving a glass from the cabinet and pouring herself some water from the tap. “Tell me about it. The side effects from the spell should fade within twenty-four hours. Here, take this.” She handed him some aspirin and the glass of water. “It’ll help.”

He did as she said and took the tiny red pills without question. She led him up to the second story guest room, which had its own private bathroom. The place was pretty big, probably bordering 3000 square feet. It was well-kept, with polished wooden floors throughout and country-themed furniture. All the beds were covered in quilts and shabby pillows. He guessed this was what decorators called “shabby yet chic.” Mistress Black, oddly enough, had been really into the home decorating networks on TV. She’d always forced him to watch whatever she wanted to watch, which had nearly bored him to death. He couldn’t care less what the difference was between a quartz countertop and a granite one.

After he was situated, Verika shut the door and Elijah took off his shoes and pants—because he hated sleeping in blue jeans—before crawling up onto the bed. Not wanting to get the pristine white sheets dirty, he only folded back the quilt. He sighed. The mattress was plush but still firm, unlike the silk monstrosity Mistress Black had made him sleep in. That one had no support whatsoever and had always made his back ache in the morning, if he’d managed to sleep.

He closed his eyes and just listened. Birds chirped outside and somewhere nearby a neighbor was mowing their lawn. Drowsiness quickly settled in. It was just as well Verika hadn’t taken him up on his invitation for a “buddy nap.” Her face had turned a delectable shade of crimson, nearly as lovely as her hair color, and she’d mumbled excuses about putting up more wards before shutting the door.

He smiled slightly. He wondered how flustered she’d be if he kissed her neck while his hands slowly peeled away her clothes…

Something warm dripped from his fingers, drawing Elijah’s blue eyes downward.

He held up his hands and gazed at his palms. They were covered in red paint. He grinned, the potion Mistress Black had made him drink at dinner making his thoughts foggy and all sense of caring scurry out the window. He’d smoked pot once, and this was akin to that high.

Someone clapped behind him and he turned to see her standing there, her figure silhouetted against the glare of the red lights she kept in her garden of horrors. He said horrors because she had statues of people and creatures she’d frozen over the centuries: demons, warlocks, witches, fairies, even angels. It was the angels she especially loved to torment. She’d always left their wings intact for the sole purpose of plucking their feathers out one by one…

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” she purred, her ruby lips spreading into a smile. “But you really are a brute when you put your mind to it.” She raised her arms and bellowed, “Our victor, the black wolf!”

She gestured down to the ground, at the dummy he’d pounced on.

He stood there naked, having just shifted back into human form only seconds before. His mouth was slick with something warm and gooey that tasted faintly metallic. His drug-addled brain thought it was more paint, until he started to remember the moments before…

Elijah awoke with a gasp. He had no idea how long he’d been out, but he felt just as bad as, if not worse than, he did before he’d nodded off. His skin was slicked in a cold sweat.

Knowing he wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon, he crawled out of bed with a groan and went into the attached bathroom to shower.

He lingered under the hot water and steam for as long as he could, letting it erase his horrific memories and soothe his aching body. Mistress Black had been right. No matter where he ran, he’d never truly be able to escape her. She haunted his every thought, never truly letting him rest.

He both feared her power and loathed her for what she’d done to him. Someday soon, she would pay. And when she went down, it would be he who stood over her corpse, smiling.

Feeling guilty for wasting so much of the Tate’s water, he quickly shut off the shower and got out. He hadn’t bothered closing the bathroom door since he hadn’t seen a fan in here and didn’t want to steam up the room too badly.

So, when he heard a very surprised, “Oh!” from behind him, he startled and whirled about without thinking.

A middle-aged woman stood there. She was on the rounder side, wearing a simple pink cardigan, tan gauchos, and sandals. Her hair was short-cropped and as yellow as the house.

Her wide blue eyes took him in, immediately drifting downward. They widened even more. Her mouth had been in an “O” shape the entire time.

Her eyes traveled upward and she blinked hard. “I was about to call the police, but now…” She glanced down again, her eyes fluttering a few times, as if in disbelief. “Consider me ready to be pillaged.”

Huh? Oh, hell! A hand flashed to cup himself as Elijah frantically groped for a towel. He went to snatch it off the hook on the wall, but it snagged. Cursing colorfully, he yanked harder and the whole hook came off, along with some wallpaper.

Shit.

This day was quickly declining into the land of epic failures.

“Mom?” Verika’s voice called from the hall. He could hear her coming up the stairs, and he froze as she walked into the bedroom. Her eyes were puffy and her hair was in more disarray than it had been after the Luminora. She looked like she’d been sleeping. “What’s going on…?” Her voice trailed off as she observed Elijah in all his naked glory.

Feeling an unfamiliar blush rush to his face, he swiftly covered himself with the towel.

He froze again, in what was arguably the most awkward moment of his life.

The three of them stared at each other. Verika’s eyes lingered on the spot between his legs, her face slowly turning crimson. Then she blinked and words exploded out of her mouth.

“Oh, my God! Please tell me my mother did not just see…”

He grinned uncomfortably and ran a hand through his hair, nearly dropping the towel.

Verika’s mother’s grin was even bigger.

Verika covered her face, mortified. “O. M. G.” She shook her head, her hair swishing about her. “This is so not happening. It’s like something out of a nightmare.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic dear,” Mrs. Tate said, patting her daughter on the back. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen a penis.”

“Please, Mother, don’t ever say that word in my presence again!” The way she was squealing, you’d think she was a teenager instead of a twenty-something-year-old woman. Elijah was getting the impression she didn’t handle stress very well.

“You should have told me you’d brought a guest over,” Mrs. Tate said, heading for the door. “Don’t forget, dinner’s in an hour. We have a lot of catching up to do.” She paused to kiss her daughter on the forehead. Verika peered at her mother through her splayed fingers, still covering her face with her hands. Mrs. Tate shot Elijah another appreciative look. “And do bring your friend down. I’m very interested in hearing how you two met.”

With that, she shut the door, and Verika deflated. She let her breath out in a long groan and flopped onto the bed, burying her face in a pillow. “This sucks.”

“Hey, it could be worse,” he said, sitting beside her. “At least you didn’t catch me in bed with her.”

Verika lifted her face to glare at him. Her eyes shot to the slight bulge around his crotch. She blinked several times, though she didn’t take her eyes off him straight away. “Could you please put some clothes on?”

He chuckled, loosening the towel a little bit to give her a better view. A satisfied thrill went through him at hearing her slight gasp as he bent over to retrieve his pants.

And found them missing.

Verika smacked her hand against her forehead. “Crap. I forgot I threw them in the washer. I’ll go get you some pants.” She rushed out the door and returned a moment later with a pair of blue jeans that were a little too big around the waist, a worn leather belt, and a button down plaid shirt. The clothes smelled like lavender.

“Thank you,” he said, taking them from her. He gave her a foxy grin as he released the towel. It pooled at his feet. “Care to help me dress?”

Verika’s jaw dropped, and her eyes once again shot straight down before she blinked and pried her gaze away. Two seconds later, she glanced back and jerked her head around. “What is the matter with you?” she said, as he swiftly dressed. “Are you some sort of exhibitionist?”

He snorted. “Hardly. I’m actually pretty selective with whom I let see me naked.”

“Right, and I’m sure the number of women you’ve bedded isn’t a mile long.”

“No, that would be Nik.”

Heavy silence ensued and he inwardly swore.

He gritted his teeth and sighed, as Verika grew very quiet. “Jesus, I’m sorry. That was reckless.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “It was a long time ago.” But he could tell it was anything but fine.

She pressed her lips together as more silence followed. “I should go help with dinner,” she murmured and started for the door.

He didn’t want her to leave. So instead, he caught her wrist and pulled her back to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down into her eyes. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“You’re not,” she breathed, sounding a little breathless as she pressed her hands against his chest. The feel of her hands rubbing up against his bared skin only served to stoke the fire growing within him. His cock was already hard, ready to show her just how much he wanted her.

He blinked hard. Even going without sex for a month, his lust was never this bad. He thought back to the first of the month, how insatiably horny he’d been. How it had gotten worse as the month had dragged on.

The full moon was less than a week away. He stared out the window, thinking. He should have recognized the signs. The mood swings, the rising lust, his desire for this witch, of all people…

“Oh, shit,” he groaned.

“What?” Verika’s head snapped up, her eyes darting everywhere. “What is it? Did the Order find us? Is it the DPI?”

“Worse,” he said, his voice muffled around the palm of his hand. “My mating fever is here.”