“The Maypole?” I say, made bolder by the Sauvignon, as we dip the wedges into the sour cream and chili sauce. “And it was The Green Man yesterday. I’m sensing a theme.”
He bites into one of the wedges, his gaze on mine. “If I admitted I was a pagan, would that shock you?”
I sip the wine, postponing my reply. For a moment, I’m convinced he’s perfectly aware of what I did last night. His eyes hold warm amusement, with a touch of desire. There’s something about this guy that’s so incredibly sexy. I like that he’s big—big hands, big feet, big… everything, really. I can’t help but think about how I climbed on top of him yesterday in my vision, how I slid my hands into his clothes, how I welcomed him inside me. I can only imagine how it’s going to feel in real life.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says. “You’re making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.”
“Is that all that’s standing up?”
He laughs and says something, but the words pass by me like pieces of torn paper thrown into the breeze. I’m suddenly distracted, as if a mirror has caught the sunlight at the edge of my vision, although it’s nighttime, and there are no mirrors I can see. Against my hip, the crystal burns. I’m in danger.
I blink and look at Mac, and discover he’s staring at me. His smile has vanished, and he looks concerned. “Are you okay?” he says carefully.
I nod and swallow the last mouthful of wine, suddenly conscious of the coolness of the liquid in my mouth. “Is it okay if we go now? I’m not feeling well.”
He doesn’t query the suddenness of my illness, or ask what’s wrong. “Of course,” he says, and he stands and holds out a hand, helping me to my feet.
Leading the way, he takes me out of the pub. Outside, it’s quiet and cold. We’re not far from the River Exe, and only about five minutes’ walk from the house I shared with Jude. Mac wouldn’t have known that, of course. Jude and I never came to The Maypole together, but is it possible he was here tonight, and I just didn’t see him? A shiver runs down my back. Surely it’s not Jude who’s been following me? I think of his icy blue eyes, and the way the wolf stared at me in the Grove.
And then I get yet another shock as I look down. It’s been snowing lightly, and just like in the Cathedral Close, all around the pub are animal prints. I stop walking and stare at them. They circle the pub several times, and then they lead away from the building. They stop by Mac’s car, and my breath frosts before my face in rapid puffs of white as I see that the prints continue up over the car’s roof, and then across the cars in front.
Oh dear Goddess. What’s happening?
Chapter Fifteen
Macbeth
Persephone has turned whiter than the snow, if that’s possible.
I look at the wolf prints circling the pub, my heart in my mouth. Something—or someone—is tracking her, maybe waiting for the right moment to pounce.
I open my mouth to tell her that I know what’s happening, but Damien’s binding spell tightens around my throat as if there is a tendril wrapped around my neck, and the words won’t come out. I curse under my breath. I’m going to have to talk to him, tell him what’s happening. But for now, I just need to get Persephone to safety.
“Wow, that’s some energetic dog,” I say to her as lightly as I can, opening the passenger door. “In you get.”
She slides into the seat, and I close the door and walk around to the driver’s side and get in. I wish I could comfort her, talk to her about it, but I can’t; all I can do is reassure her and protect her until I get her home.
As I pull away, I can see she’s shaking. I reach out a hand and place it over hers in between changing gear.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “You’re safe with me.”
She glances over at me, and I’m sure she’s wondering how much I know, and confused as to why I don’t say anything. It feels as if the two of us are circling one another like sword fighters, testing each other, probing for weaknesses. I don’t like it. We should be sharing everything, discussing the problem, debating a solution. But then it’s a Black Moon, and the Lady is determined to have her secrets, and there’s nothing I or any other man can do about that.
We don’t talk much as I drive her home. When we get to her parents’ house, I pull up outside, turn off the engine, and get out to go around to her side and open the door. It’s not snowed much here, and the stiff breeze has blown most of it away, so I can’t check whether there are any wolf prints.
Persephone gets out. Her aura—normally full of bright, vivid colors—is a murky brown, dim and cloudy, full of fear. Unable to stop myself, I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she mumbles. Her cheek rests on my shoulder, and her lips are close to my neck. Her warm breath fans across my skin.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I promise, “find out how you are.”
“Okay.”
I consider asking her whether she would like to come back to my place. I can’t protect her here. But things are going well between us, and I don’t want to spoil things by rushing it. She’ll be safe indoors, I’m sure. But I will talk to Damien about what happened tonight.
Moving back a little, I lift my hands to her face, cup it, and look down into her eyes. She’s calming a little now she’s home, fighting with her fear. I admire her courage. She’s been through so much already, and I think we both know there’s more to come, but she seems determined to be brave.
Her lips are pale pink and look incredibly soft. I lower mine to them and kiss her. She sighs, and her breath whispers across my lips. I touch my tongue to her bottom lip, and she opens her mouth, giving me access. I slide my tongue against hers, feeling an answering surge of heat.
With my eyes partly open, I see her aura clear and brighten, tendrils reaching out like orange ribbons to wind around me. She slides her arms around my waist, holding me tightly. Just down from us, the light from the lamppost brightens, but I don’t know if she notices. I close my eyes and envelop myself in her—her taste, smell, touch.
I’m crazy about this girl. It’s because she’s a witch, I tell myself, but part of me knows that’s not it. I hardly know her. Just because I saved her life, it doesn’t mean we’re destined to be together or anything like that. And yet, why does it feel like coming home when I kiss her?
I lift my head and rub my thumbs across her cheeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
She nods. Her cheeks hold a slight flush. “Okay.”
Pressing my lips to hers again, I give her a last kiss, and then she leaves me and goes into the house.
I wait until she closes the door before I return to my car and begin to head home.
On my way out of the town, I change my mind and take the turnoff to the moors. It’s only about ten minutes from Persephone’s house to Damien and Kimi’s. As I pull up, I wonder whether I should have rung first, but I’m here now, so I get out, go up the path, and knock on the door.
Kimi answers and her eyebrows rise in surprise before she smiles. “Hello, Mac. Are you here to see Damien?”