Page 45 of Waltzing With Witches

“The castle’s been grumpy since you left.”

I whirl around to find the Keeper standing in the shadows of the trees.

“What are you doing?” I shout. “Do you always have to terrify me?”

He slips both hands into his front pockets. “Ben’s been shooting nails at me for the last hour. He’s unhinged.”

At his pun, Ben’s front doors literally fall off the hinges, landing flat on the black cobblestones leading to the entrance.

I purse my lips to hold back a cackle. Glancing at the doors, I lose my fight against the smile. “Ben,” I say in my most motherly chiding tone, “I’m back. Will you please behave?”

He doesn’t answer.

“What did you do to him to deserve that treatment?” I return my gaze to the Keeper.

Dark brows curl up in surprise. “Fought with you. He doesn’t like that, apparently.”

And here we are, back on the precipice of a terrifying conversation.

I yank my bun out and redo it hastily. “Yeah, well, we should talk about that.”

He crosses the driveway and stops just short of me. Even so, he looms over me, overwhelming me with his closeness.

When I look up into his dark eyes, my heart skips a beat and stops, paused as I relive what Evenia did to him.

“Morgan,” he murmurs, “did Moira find you?” He lifts a hand to the side of my head as if he’ll stroke an errant hair away, but then he lets it fall to his side. Dismay settles good and hard in my chest. What would he have been like if Evenia didn’t zap his brain to bits?

“She did,” I confirm. Reaching into the bike’s saddlebag, I grab the VHS and wave it. “We watched this and talked for a long time.”

He frowns but nods, taking both hands from his pockets to cross his arms over his chest.

Now that I’ve opened this can of worms, there’s no getting out of this conversation. I set the VHS down on the motorcycle seat, butterflies pinging off my insides like tiny hammers.

He clears his throat. “Would you like to discuss it?”

I lift my gaze to his, the familiar neutral mask my only greeting. “I’d like to discuss it, provided that you’re ready to be truly honest with me. If we part as friends, that’s fine, but no more of this push Morgan away and make decisions on your own horse shit, okay?”

He nods, uncrossing his arms and extending a hand toward me, palm facing upward. His fingertips twitch.

It feels like everything will change if I take that hand. But as I look at it, I know I will. Despite how we got started. Despite every drop of water under our proverbial bridge, I want to know more. I want to understand. And, yeah, I want a grovel too. But most of all, I want to be on the same page.

I lay my hand flat in his. His palm is warm and rough, and he immediately closes his fingers around my wrist and pulls me flush with his chest. I tilt my head back to see his eyes narrowed and fangs descending from his upper jaw.

“Trust me for a moment?” His whisper is a silky caress against my mind, soothing the frayed nerves and jangled emotions.

“Just don’t break it,” I whisper back.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

KEEPER

Igrin, one side of my smile pulled tight by my scar. It still hurts sometimes, especially when I smile.

Looking deep inside, I call on the shadows I typically keep buried. They snake up my back and sprout from my shoulders, forming to points that rise high above my head as they billow out on either side of me.

“What the fuck?” Morgan shouts, stepping back as my shadows unfurl into gigantic black wings that soar to twice my height.

I give her a pointed look. “Vampires don’t turn into bats, Morgan, but that fallacy developed from these.” Lifting a hand, I stroke one shadowy feather, never taking my eyes off her. “Fly with me. I’ve already promised not to break your trust. Or drop you,” I tack on in a serious voice.

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