Page 1 of Waltzing With Witches

CHAPTER ONE

MORGAN

Idrag a fry absentmindedly through my ketchup, the red substance smearing across the plate. The splash of crimson gives me pause. Shit, everything red gives me pause.

I blame him for that.

Something pulls my gaze out of the Galloping Green Bean’s front window. As if I conjured him up by thought alone, a shadowy figure stalks past the diner’s front door, nodding curtly at a group of gathered centaurs waiting for a table. The figure halts and turns to face me, slipping both hands into the pockets of tight black slacks.

His physique is tall yet muscular, his shoulders broad and thick with slabs of muscle. Eyes the color of rubies glitter in the fading evening light. The way he silently stares at me through the window is undeniably predatory. He’s so still, too still—a starkly beautiful statue in a way a human never could be.

Probably because he’s not human.

My nipples harden, pressing painfully against the fabric of my tee. Heat curls deep and insidiously between my thighs. I don’t want to be this attracted to him, but it’s impossible not to be. I blame it on his position. He reminds me of my male doctor counterparts back home—powerful assholes—and, damn my vagina, but she finds that really hot.

A shout drifts from up Sycamore Street. The male turns to look, giving me a perfect view of a long, aquiline nose and gelled-back blond hair. I know he won’t turn to me now that he’s focused elsewhere. I won’t get another look at the dark brows framing those shocking eyes, or the scar that slashes down the left side of his face, tugging one side of his mouth up into a permanent sneer.

A sneer he’s directed at me plenty of times.

Dickhead.

He yanks his hands out of his pockets and heads toward the noise. Big, powerful strides eat up the distance between him and whatever he’s looking at. I resist the urge to press my face to the glass and watch him go.

I’ve watched him go every day since I arrived in the tiny New England town of Ever with my sisters. Bitterness sours my gut, anger and irritation twin flames that burn bright in the furthest corners of my heart.

“Mor, honey, are you okay?” a sugar-sweet but concerned-sounding voice breaks through my fog.

I blink several times and return my gaze to the table. My aunt Lou—my mother’s youngest sister, who’s closer in age to me than my mother—stares at me with a worried expression. Warm chocolate eyes are wide, her dark blonde brows pressed together in apparent concern.

Next to her sits my sister Wren, happily munching on her fries. My other triplet Thea reaches under the table and squeezes my knee.

It’s like I’m the kid who fell and scraped something, and my family has all gathered around to coddle me and set me back on my feet. I guess that’s not too far from the truth.

Something hits the back of my head with a thunk, forcing me forward until my face nearly hits my plate. I whirl to my left on the red-and-turquoise bench seat, looking around my snickering triplet.

“Ouch!” I hiss. “What was that for?”

Thea’s mate, Shepherd, smirks as he pops a handful of fries in his mouth. He chews slowly, withdrawing the spade-shaped tail he just slapped me with.

Fucking gargoyles. Way more appendages than anyone could possibly need. And I’ve heard way too much about what he can do in the bedroom with the wings, tail, claws, etc.

I pick up my fork and brandish it at him. “Watch it, sir, or I’m gonna put a hole in those pretty wings.”

“Aww,” Thea says in a soothing tone. “Don’t hurt my man. He’s far too beautiful to be on the receiving end of violence. Look at this jawline. Look at those gorgeous black locks! And don’t forget all the snacks he brings us!”

I roll my eyes. “Being on the receiving end of violence is literally his job, what with him basically being a cop and all.”

Thea snorts and reaches over to stroke her way down Shepherd’s purpley-gray jaw. “Yeah, but don’t damage this face. I mean, look at it!”

Wren and Lou groan simultaneously. Wren is also newly mated—to a troll—but, unlike Thea, she doesn’t seem to need to remind me every two seconds.

Shepherd clears his throat and gives me a pointed look. “Don’t act like you don’t know why we’re here.” He points at Lou with the tip of his tail. “You too! You owe us details, missy.” He looks over at me. “And we obviously need the tea on your breakfast with the Keeper. You haven’t said a word, and I need to know, damnit! I’ve been exceedingly patient.” He grabs another handful of fries and shoves them in his mouth.

I give him an unimpressed look. I’d like to get the attention off me and the somewhat disastrous breakfast he’s referencing, so I gesture at Lou and clear my throat. “Shep’s right about one thing. We need the details, Lou. You ready to share?”

Aunt Lou arrived in Ever in dramatic fashion, chased by a pack of soul-sucking evil thralls. She was bitten and scratched in the process, but somehow she’s made a miraculous recovery, and nobody makes a miraculous recovery from a thrall bite. According to Doc Slade, anyhow.

I’m so relieved she’s alright. I can’t lose anybody else, or what remains of my sanity will be fully ripped to pieces.

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