Page 5 of Bait N' Witch

Relegated to the basement, which told her exactly where she stood in this family. Good thing ghosts didn’t tend to haunt her.

He paused in turning away to cast her a final assessing look. “Dinner is at seven.”

“And not a second later,” she muttered under her breath. Jeez, this guy was wound tighter than a pocket watch.

He gave her a hard stare, which she returned with a guileless expression that apparently had no effect on him.

“You may call me Mr. Masters.” With that, the infuriating man turned and calmly left the room.

His imperious tone decided it for her. She was going to enjoy thwarting this arrogant warlock at his own game.

Chapter Two

Rowan breathed a tiny bit easier in Greyson’s absence, a reaction she put down to who he was, rather than to her odd attraction to the man. No way was she giving that any legitimacy. The spark was magical—and not in a metaphoric sense. Powerful witches and warlocks gave off a sort of electric charge. She’d cast a spell to mask hers and hopefully make him think her powers more minimal than they were. But that didn’t mean she was unaffected by his aura.

Already she was regretting coming at all. What had Delilah been thinking?

Strangely, Rowan trusted Delilah. Other than Tanya, the demon who’d raised her after her parents died and had trained her in magic, no one else had come close to gaining her trust like that, which is why she’d agreed to the crazy plan.

Not for the first time, she questioned her reasoning.

Pulling her gaze from where Greyson Masters had disappeared, she glanced down and realized she was rubbing at her wrist, where he’d shocked her earlier. The spot still tingled, a warmth pulsing in tune to her heart, though the burning sensation had let up.

What on earth was that?

Raising her hand to inspect her skin more closely, she discovered a faint white line in the center of the heat. Nuts and gnomes. I don’t need anything else happening.

“Are you really going to leave us like this?” a small voice sounded from behind her, pulling her focus away from her wrist.

Spinning around, she faced down her new charges—three miniature witches who watched her with wary curiosity. Rowan didn’t see three wayward girls she had no idea how to control. Instead, three little girls who needed attention and love tugged at her heart. She knew because she’d seen that look before. Her own parents, from the little she could remember, had been equally focused on her magic more than on her as a person who needed cuddles and bedtime stories.

Things had changed with Tanya. She may have adopted Rowan, but she was the only true mother she’d ever known.

She gave the girls a gentle smile. “You got yourselves into it. You can get yourselves out.”

Rowan had to hold in a laugh at the disgruntled expressions tipped toward her direction.

“I need to get my bags and unpack.” At the doorway she paused and stuck her head back in the room. Two and a half sets of wide eyes, with a touch of resentment now, stared back at her. She gave her head a jerk. “Come on, then.”

She left shaggy, blondie, and baldy eyeing each other on the couch and headed outside. Not much to gather—exactly one suitcase, bag and clothing both provided by Delilah. They couldn’t risk going back to Rowan’s place to get her stuff, not with Greyson hunting her. The Syndicate might not know who she was—yet—but that didn’t make her apartment in New Orleans safe.

She rubbed at an itch on her nose, still getting used to the dry climate of Colorado, then heaved the suitcase over the side of the truck bed. Leaning to one side against the weight, she swung around, only to stop short at the sight of all three girls, appearances back to normal, watching her from the front porch.

Interesting.

“Is that all you brought?” one of the triplets asked.

“Yes.” Rowan made her way up the steps, uneven and worn into smooth dips with decades worth of feet treading them over the years. She paused at the top, taking in their appearances. Greyson Masters was going to have his hands full with these three beauties. Long, honey-blonde hair, aquamarine eyes, peaches-and-cream complexions. And three of them. Rowan cocked her head as she picked up a faint mark on each of their foreheads.

“Who is who now?” she asked. She had a pretty good guess, but she wanted to be sure.

One at a time, each gave her name. The mark on each forehead was different, but she recognized them now. Variations on the runes for protection. A different one for each girl.

Placed there with kisses of protection? Why would they need such a spell? And who had placed them there?

Regardless, those came in handy. She quickly committed the symbol and name combination to memory.

She continued inside. “Maybe you should come shopping with me? You can help me choose.”

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