Page 7 of Dewitched

To his overwhelmed senses, the realization seemed to take an eternity, but really, only seconds had passed. When reality finally came rushing back, however, he still didn’t move or speak.

He didn’t trust it. He couldn’t. What hethoughthe felt made no fucking sense, and he worried he’d only end up humiliating himself by making the first move. There also happened to be the issue of his…disability.

As someone who barely counted as an Otherling, he didn’t have the greatest understanding of the different races. Considering the male’s size and demeanor, Owen guessed him to be a shifter, possibly a werewolf, but he’d been wrong before. Besides, he’d begun to realize that even non-magic users weren’t completely safe.

Shifters might not be able to cast spells or brew potions, but that didn’t mean they possessed no magic at all. They just had a different kind. Intrinsic. The ability to transform into an animal—either completely or partially—wasn’t exactly a learned behavior anyone could copy.

Sadly, to someone like Owen, the type of magic didn’t matter. He still absorbed it, still transferred it, whether he wanted to or not.

“Hey, there!” the female called. Stepping toward him, she forced his attention away from her companion. “Are you a guest at the hotel?”

“Y–yes,” he stammered, his voice hoarse from disuse. With a deep breath to steady his nerves, he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m staying there.” For emphasis, he pointed to the back door of his cabin. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

With the way they were dressed, coupled with their unnatural alertness, he thought they might be security. Maybe even special guards brought in for the festival.

“I’m Seneca.” She sounded pleasant enough, but she didn’t smile. “This is Fenix. We’re Guardians of Princess Iliana Nightstar.”

Holy fucking hell. Guardians? He’d heard about them, of course, but he’d never seen one in person. Then again, he’d never met royalty, either. Given what little he did know about them, he understood that the female was under no obligation to share that information with him. He also didn’t get the sense that Seneca was in the habit of explaining herself.

He just didn’t know what it meant.

“I wasn’t aware anyone else was staying in the cabins.”

Well, that made two of them, but he had assumed he would have neighbors at some point. Given the popularity of the Manor’s festivals, it only stood to reason that the hotel would be at full capacity.

“I’m quiet, and I keep to myself,” he blurted. “I won’t be a problem.”

For the first time, a small but genuine smile curved the corner of her lips. “I believe you. What’s your name?”

“Oh, sorry!” Shit, he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten something so basic. “I’m Owen.” Reluctantly, his gaze slid past her to Fenix. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Hoping to ingratiate himself, even just a little, he moved his headphones down to hang around his neck and pasted on a bright smile. At best, he hoped for reciprocation. At worst, total indifference.

What he hadn’t expected was for the male to let loose a violent growl that echoed through the forest as he charged at him.

Thinking back on it later, he would probably claim to have overreacted. In that moment, though, all those pretty poetic thoughts about trust and familiarity went right out the fucking window.

As an avid nature lover, he had watched a plethora of documentaries warning him not to run if chased by a predator. Instead, he should make himself appear bigger, more intimidating, and create a lot of noise. While the advice might be good in theory, it was next to impossible to follow with more than two hundred pounds of pure muscle barreling down on him.

So, rather than stand his ground, he did what anyone in his situation would have done. He dropped his phone, screamed like a banshee, and sprinted in the opposite direction.

Which took him right back the way he had come.

With too much momentum and not enough coordination, he tripped over nothing more than a tuft of dying grass and went tumbling ass over teakettle down the hill. He flipped and rolled, grunting in pain every time he slammed against the ground. Fortunately, he found a nice, soft landing at the bottom before he could plunge into the cold waters of the lake.

Unfortunately, that stopping point happened to be a face plant into a couple of inches of soggy mud.

Cold, wet, caked in the gods only knew what, and utterly mortified, he no longer gave a flying fuck about being mauled or eaten. In fact, he welcomed it. Death would certainly be kinder at that point.

Struggling up on his knees, he wiped at his eyes while he coughed and sputtered, expelling as much dirt as he could. Both his jacket and the shirt underneath clung to him, and the frigid water seeped through the denim of his jeans. The back of his head throbbed, likely from hitting the ground so many times, and to top it all off, he’d lost his glasses during the fall.

Overwhelmed with negative emotions and teetering on a whole ass breakdown, he dropped his head back and yelled to the sky in frustration. It actually felt pretty damn good. Well, until the sky yelled back in the form of booming thunder before unleashing in a violent downpour. On the bright side, at least the rain washed away most of the mud.

Completely dejected, he hung his head and rounded his shoulders against the onslaught.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

At the sound of the deep voice, Owen scrambled to his feet and took several steps back. Clearly, he wasn’t as ready for death as he thought.

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