Page 109 of Beyond the Cottage

Squinting awake, Gretta fumbled for her watch on the nightstand before remembering there wasn’t a nightstand. She turned up the lantern beside her.

Her pants lay in a heap at her feet, and she dug her watch from the pocket. It was early, but early was good. She had a witch to slay and a train to catch. With a deep yawn, she scratched her stomach. Then her eyes landed on the duffel bag and case beside the door.

Ansel’s luggage. Ansel’s room. She’d fallen asleep in Ansel’s bed.

So much for not being the clingy type.

Flushing, Gretta checked between her legs. Still wet, still tender. It was lucky her ovulation cycle wouldn’t begin for weeks because pregnancy hadn’t even crossed her mind in the moment.

She snagged her drawers off the floor and used them to wipe up.

And, of course, Ansel chose that exact moment to return—shirtless. When he saw her, he stopped in the doorway and squeezed the towel draped around his neck. A water droplet fell from his damp hair to his chest. Entranced, Gretta watched it roll to his hard nipple.

He gave his head a little shake and entered, closing the door behind him. “Sorry.”

Without looking at her, he pulled on a clean shirt and finished toweling his hair, cool and casual, as though catching a friend wiping his come off her privates was an everyday occurrence.

But casual was also good. That had been the plan. Gretta only wished she could forget so easily. She was on the brink of doing something stupid, like seeing if he wanted to make doubly sure they’d gotten it out of their systems.

“Sorry I fell asleep here,” she said. “I hope I didn’t bother you.”

“It’s fine. The bathing chamber is empty if you’d like to use it.” He didn’t so much as glance at her.

Cheeks heating, Gretta gathered her pants and escaped to her room.

After a quick bath, she returned and collected her hunting satchel. She found Ansel and Lil waiting for her outside the loot room.

“Sleep well, munchkin?” Lil asked.

“Um.”Do not look at Ansel. “Fine, thanks.”

Lil led them to the kitchen where Tadpole served them mushroom omelets. They ate quickly, and followed Lil from the caves. Despite his remoteness, Ansel stayed close behind Gretta as they went through the tunnel and up the staircase.

On the bluff, Lil whistled for a crane and helped them mount. Gretta considered flying herself, but decided it would be better to wait until her dust fully replenished. Especially considering the lake that day. It crashed violently against the cliff, sprayingcold mist. The tepid, overcast sun offered little warmth, reminding Gretta more of late fall than spring.

As the crane ascended, she lurched, and Ansel wrapped his arm around her waist—a purely functional gesture that made her pulse flicker.

Was this her new reality? Mooning over his naked chest, swooning over his goddamn forearm around her waist? Who the hell had shebecome?

The ride was brief, and Ansel promptly released her. When they disembarked on another bluff, Lil said, “Her cottage is a half mile that way. I’ll wait for you here. Good luck, munchkin.”

Gretta nodded. She and Ansel started up the path.

The chill wind rustled overgrown oaks, making their branches creak. It brought the smell of rotting acorns and soil moistened with recently melted snow. Though green buds dotted the branches, no leaves had opened yet, and the underbrush looked scratchy and dead. In a few more weeks, everything would be green. Gretta wouldn’t have minded that cheerier backdrop.

Breathing rhythmically, she counted her steps. After giving Ansel a sideways glance, she took a nip off the flask in her satchel. She’d determined to cut back, but extenuating circumstances.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Nah. I’ve done this plenty of times.”

He frowned. “Do you usually start drinking so early, then?”

A sharp comment about minding one’s own business sprang to her lips, but it fizzled. He didn’t sound critical, just concerned. And Ansel was her friend again. Didn’t he understand her better than anyone?

She sighed. “No, I don’t usually drink so early. The truth is…this part of hunting does make me a little nervous.”

His gaze dipped to her, softening. “What part? The approach?”

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