Page 25 of Waltzing With Witches

I grip my ball lightly, holding it to my chest as I wait for the pinsetter to replace the pins. Once they’re upright, I stalk forward and throw the ball carefully, straight down the middle for a strike. Satisfaction fills me at watching all ten pins crash together and drop, swooped back into the return by an automated arm.

Both Morgan and the castle growl as I turn in triumph. Morgan’s cheeks are flushed, her eyes narrowed, and arms crossed.

My comm watch pings. I look down—another alarm in a different part of Ever. I swipe through a series of screens, but I need more info. Morgan stands silently while I check on the wards.

“Everything okay?” Her voice is careful, gentle.

I swipe through the last screen. “I believe so. The ward monitors get tripped up by many different things. It’s probably nothing to worry about. I still have to check each time, though.”

“Do you need to go?”

I look up, and I hate the emotion I recognize in her gray eyes—disappointment.

Why would she be disappointed?

Because she wants you, that helpful voice supplies deep inside my mind. Because she’s yours, and you both know it.

And that knowledge rends my soul in two as I stand there looking at her. She’s supposed to want to spend time with me because I am hers—irrevocably and in every possible sense there is. I’ll be hers until the day I die. And she deserves someone who can return her desires and needs tenfold.

That isn’t me. Not anymore.

“I don’t need to go,” I say. “Maybe I’ll do a quick patrol once I’ve kicked your ass, but we’re not there yet.”

Her smirk returns. “Alright, hotshot.” She turns from me, not seeing the thrill her nickname gives me. I want every nickname, every smirk, every teasing moment.

If I wasn’t in the predicament I’m in, I’d steal up behind her right now and wrap both arms around her, tease her with my teeth at her neck while she takes her turn. And then maybe I’d fuck her on the bowling alley floor. Maybe I’d bend her over the ball return or make her ride me on the leather seats that line each alley’s head.

A soft, needy groan leaves my lips unbidden. It’s loud enough to echo, my cheeks flaming when Morgan stiffens. She heard it. Of course she heard it.

She whirls in place. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

What?

“If you’re going to play dirty to get me off my game, don’t bother!” She stomps a foot, cheeks red as cherries, and returns her focus to the alley.

I resist the urge to moan again—on purpose—and see what it does to her scent.

Fuck me, I need my dulling potion. If it doesn’t arrive tonight, I’ll call Moira again. It might be time to play my trump card there. My emotions are returning fast, and I can’t risk that. They run too high, too charged for Morgan to be safe here with me.

She sends the ball down the aisle, and it swings wide. A bumper shoots up and bounces the ball toward the pins, knocking all ten down. Then the bumper slips back into the alley’s side walls.

Morgan turns to me with a whoop, but it dies when she sees the thunderous look on my face.

“You two are cheating,” I bark. “You and the castle. Unacceptable.”

“Hey,” she barks. “I can’t be held responsible for the castle’s actions. It does what it wants.”

The castle lets out a warning groan. She wants the game to continue. She’s having fun.

Grabbing my ball, I toss it down the alley in a perfect line, but at the last moment, a bumper swings up and out, and my ball flops into the gutter.

Behind me, Morgan cackles hysterically. When I turn, a strip of wood off the seating area bench flips up. Morgan slaps it a high five as she giggles.

“Well done!” She reaches out to pat the wood surface, and the castle practically preens with pleasure.

I look around, noting how clean the bowling alley is.

She did this, then.

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