by Abigail Owen
She’d said she loved him. He’d heard her through the haze of death she’d yanked him out of the night the werewolves attacked. Had she meant it?
Sitting through Rowan’s interrogation had been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done—to sit and do nothing. He’d already done everything he could to protect her while she’d recovered. He should’ve been angry at her deceptions, furious that, after what they’d shared, she still hadn’t trusted him. But after she’d risked her own life to protect the girls and save him…his only thought had been protecting her from the very people he served. From his own job.
He’d spent the last three days doing so.
Grey walked into the small conference room to find Rowan standing at the window staring out at the view of the mountains. Delilah sat in a chair calmly tapping away on her cellphone, her long nails clicking against the screen. Both women turned when he entered.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Delilah murmured.
He gave her a nod of thanks but barely noticed as she left, closing the door behind her with a soft click, leaving total silence in her wake.
Rowan eyed him warily, her arms crossed over her stomach. “So…what did they decide?”
Grey stepped closer. “That depends on you.”
She frowned. “Me?”
“Yes. You won’t be punished if you agree to certain conditions.”
Rowan’s already pale skin blanched, her freckles standing out in stark relief. He took another step closer but held back from going to her. They needed to work this out first.
“They want you to teach them the magic you were taught.”
She blinked, appeared to consider that, then nodded. “All right.”
“You work with other Anevals to both spread the word about this vulnerability their power creates and also to work with werewolves we trust to develop magic to protect you and the others.”
Now interest sparked in her eyes, the wariness easing. “Which werewolves?”
“Marrok and Tala have volunteered.”
Again, she nodded. “Done. What else?”
“You stay with me for the foreseeable future.”
Now she frowned. Not the reaction he was hoping for. “As your prisoner?”
Grey stepped closer, right into her personal space, inhaling the wildflower and honey scent of her, wanting to hold her, but they weren’t there yet. Rowan didn’t back away, but she still regarded him with wary, wide eyes, eyes he could drown in. “Not as my prisoner.”
“As what then?”
“As my claimed mate.”
He caught her soft gasp, her eyes dilating. “You know about that?”
Shock spiraled through him. He hadn’t officially claimed her yet. And they hadn’t talked about love, so how would she know? “What do you mean? You already knew?”
Rowan’s brows drew down. “I…” She bit her lip. “Do you want to claim me?”
Grey couldn’t stand the uncertainty in her eyes a second longer. He reached out and ran a finger along her smooth cheek. “I fell in love with you the day you walked into my house and froze the girls mid-fight.”
Big grey eyes gazed up at him, still uncertain.
“Let me show you something.” Grey undid the top few buttons of his shirt and pulled the material aside to show her his family sigil tattooed on his chest. He took her by the wrist and guided her fingers to the mark. As soon as she touched it, the tattoo glowed red, like a brand held to the fire.
Rowan gasped. Then the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen stole across her face, lighting her up from the inside. “Let me show you something, too.” She pulled her hand out of his loose grasp and flipped her arm over, pulling back the sleeve of her sweater.
There, glowing a similar red to his, was a smaller version of his sigil. The breath punched out of his lungs, even as his body responded to the sight of his mark on Rowan’s skin. Claimed mates among witches were rare. He never thought he’d see this sight. But… “When? How?”
Rowan laughed, the husky sound kicking through him. “The day we met, though it took a while to fully form. I think fate knew before we did.”
Fascinated, Grey lightly ran a finger over her mark, enjoying the hiss of air his touched elicited from her. He smiled but released her. If hers felt anything like his at physical touch from her mate, then if he didn’t stop, they’d be naked and on the floor in short order. He’d rather save that for when they got home.
First, he needed to know. He took her face between his hands and gazed into those gorgeous grey eyes, which no longer stared at him with wary question. “Will you be my claimed mate, Rowan?”
She smiled softly. “I think it’s too late to stop.”
He didn’t return the smile, needing an answer.
Without his saying more, she seemed to understand. “I love you, Greyson Masters. Spending the rest of my life at your side won’t be long enough. I don’t need any sigil to tell me something my heart already knows.”
Unable to resist any longer, he laid his lips over hers, claiming her in the most basic way, with a kiss. He savored and sipped at her for a long while before pulling back, allowing his gaze to take in every curve and angle of her face. “I love you too.”
She dimpled, eyes sparkling at him. “I hope so, because if this is punishment, you need to work on your technique.”
Then she sobered. “The girls?”
“Will be thrilled. Atleigh made her prediction while you were asleep, by the way. We will separate in old age, only by death. Me first, you shortly after. I’m pretty sure they’re foreseeing love. Whether it’s love of a child, like the mother and child they connected, or a calling, like the woman with her business, which happens to be a not-for-profit charity, or a mate…like us.”
Again, that glowing smile stole his breath. “That is a relief.”
He stole a kiss in return. “Let’s go home.”
She gave a contented sigh. “All I ever wanted, and never thought I could have, was to call your home my home.”
“For the rest of our lives.
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 High Council 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 Brand on his investigation for Dr. Ariela’s patient who kept lighting on fire. And, in thinking of the doctor, a request to find another doctor to send up north to attend to an isolated town of elves had recently hit her desk. Only 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.
“I don’t make this warning lightly.”
“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 or 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 promise.”
He inclined his head, though his jaw hardened. “Fair enough.”
She glanced down at his hand, still on her arm. “May I go?”
Now he did smile, a real one which 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.
About the Author
Award-winning paranormal and contemporary romance author, Abigail Owen, grew up consuming books and exploring the world through her writing. She attempted to find a practical career related to her favorite pastime by earning a degree in English Rhetoric (Technical Writing). However, she swiftly discovered that writing without imagination is not nearly as fun as writing with it.
No matter the genre, she loves to write witty, feisty heroines, sexy heroes who deserve them, and a cast of lovable characters to surround them (and maybe get their own stories). She currently resides in Austin, Texas, with her own personal hero, her husband, and their two children, who are growing up way too fast.
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Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Bait N’ Witch! Writing is a passion, one that I look forward to enjoying every day. I hope you enjoyed exploring this world I created and the characters who’ve become so important to me.
I would not be able to do this without my team: my critique partner, Nicole Flockton; my beta readers—Sharon Saracino, Gail James, Cindy Tyra, Christine Bean, and Artemis Page; my terrific author friends; and, especially, my mother.
A huge Thank You and I Love You to my amazing husband and children, who support (and even encourage) this obsession of mine.
And, finally, thank you so much to my readers. You are the reason I keep doing this!
If you would like to contact me, I’d love to hear from you (www.abigailowen.com). Thanks again!
Sincerely, Abigail Owen
Thank you for purchasing
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Other stories by Abigail:
Svatura Series
(Publisher: The Wild Rose Press)
Blue Violet
Hyacinth
Crimson Dahlia
Black Orchid
Shadowcat Nation Series
(Publisher: The Wild Rose Press)
Andromeda’s Fall
Sarai’s Fortune
Tieryn’s Fury
Seneca’s Faith
Legendary Consultants Series
(Publisher: Abigail Owen)
Her Demigod Complex
The Worse for Were
A Ghost of a Chance (short story)
Psyched (short story)
Bait N’ Witch