Page 26 of Waltzing With Witches

I don’t have the time or inclination to clean.

On cue, my comm watch pings again, this time the alert red and urgent.

The castle stills as I look up at Morgan. “I’ve got to go.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

MORGAN

The Keeper’s expression turns strained as his comm watch blares out a terrible-sounding alarm. He seems torn about leaving.

I rub at my elbow. “It’s okay if you have to go; I understand. This can wait.”

His expression falls, a neutral mask slipping back over his handsome features. He’ll leave, just like every other time duty calls. “Do you want to come with me?”

My gaze shoots up to his.

“It’s probably nothing,” he says quickly. “An animal triggering the ward alarms, but if it looks like a threat, I’ll protect you, of course. Actually, you should probably st—”

“I’ll come,” I say before he can finish suggesting I stay home.

With a quick nod, he turns and leaves the bowling alley, his footsteps quiet.

I pat the bench seat one more time. “Thank you, friend. We’ll be back soon, alright?”

All the lights in the bowling alley flash on and off in a steady pattern. The castle gets it. I smile as I follow the Keeper.

A few minutes later, I find him in the command center, staring at a row of red lights on the giant board that takes up one full wall. He glances at me over his shoulder when I enter, then points at the row of red.

“This indicates an actual disturbance to the ward. It’s usually nothing, but sometimes it’s thralls attacking the wards. It’s almost never been anything worse than that, except for the night Lou arrived.”

That night scared the shit out of me. Her arrival in Ever was supposed to be peaceful. Instead, a pack of soulless thralls chased her into town and almost through the wards, injuring her in the process.

“Let’s go.” He swoops past me and toward the front of the castle. When we get there, the castle opens both double front doors for us. The Keeper’s motorcycle is still parked out front.

“Oh, goody,” I mutter. “This again.”

“Takes too long to get my truck out,” he barks from ahead of me. He reaches the bike first, swinging one long, muscular leg over. He grips the handlebars with his right hand, laying his left on his thigh to make room for me to get on the bike too.

I slide my right leg over, settling carefully onto the seat. The Keeper shifts forward with a punch of his hips, and we take off into the night. I force a scream back down my throat at how fast he’s driving, but he wraps his left arm around my torso and hauls me back against him.

Rough lips come to my right ear, his warm breath tickling my skin. “I’ve got you, Morgan. I won’t let you fall.”

Sensual words delivered in that tone should turn me on. Except I know that’s not his intention. And he’s let me fall so many times already. Every time he was callous or cruel. Every time I saw him and he ignored me. Most especially the time he asked me to breakfast and left me sitting there alone.

The worst thing about that wasn’t knowing he wouldn’t return. I knew he wouldn’t—or couldn’t.

No. The worst thing about that day was the kind and understanding looks from the Evertons, like it was exactly the behavior they expected from a Keeper.

How is it that all Keepers are mated except this one? I can’t imagine it. It must be like being a politician’s wife. Do you ever get to have fun or feel like you’re that person’s priority? Sure as shit doesn’t seem like it, and I’d never want that for myself.

I’m lost in thought on that topic as we rumble through the night, headed for the forest behind the Keeper’s castle. We drive until the road stops, then he turns us onto a dirt path and continues. The forest is quiet save for the throaty purr of his engine. He lets go of me long enough to put his left hand on the handlebars, checking his comm watch with the right.

He slows the bike and parks it, slipping off behind me. Ahead of us, the wards glow a faint and peaceful green.

Inside me, something warm and pleasant unfurls. My magic, drawn to the wards.

“They feel okay to me,” I say without thinking.

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