Page 127 of Centaur Bolt

“He was about to try something,” Marcus agreed. “I could tell.”

“You don’t know that. He’s out here all alone. Maybe he just wanted to see if I was—available.”

Havoc snorted. “Were you?”

I glowered. “No. Of course not.”

“With your aroma—no way he wouldn’t have tried something,” Marcus insisted.

“Not everyone is a horny asshole,” I said.

“Most are,” the Dragon corrected.

“Yeah, they are,” Marcus agreed.

Their unexpected agreement annoyed me. “Well, now he knows that a delicious-smelling woman, a half-naked man, and a rude Dragon are heading for the Witch.”

Havoc’s mouth opened and then closed. But Marcus said, “I am not half naked.”

I poked a finger against a patch of skin only inches from another patch that would have been rather indecent, although intriguing, to touch.

“You do dangle,” Havoc agreed, stalking past us.

Marcus gave a respectable imitation of a Dragon growl, before he gestured to me.

“Nope.” I provided my own Havoc imitation. “I’ll go last.”

He sighed and followed the Dragon, and I brought up the rear. While admiring the scenery, of course.

* * *

By the time we hiked up from the creek, the sun lay low on the horizon.

Apparently, the Witch was taking visitors. At least, when we took the broad path up the hill, there was a cottage waiting for us.

It was barely visible beneath the flowering vines and bushes that surrounded it. Every aspect of the little yard teemed with life—small animals hopped and ran away as we walked forward, and birds flitted through the trees. I was sure I spotted fairies flitting through the flowers.

“The Witchisa Watcher.” Marcus grinned with satisfaction.

The woman herself emerged from the cottage. A smidgen taller than Cara, but a lot older—her face was heavily lined. She beamed at us, her merry blue eyes sparkling.

“Welcome, my travelers.” She regarded each one of us, pausing the longest on Marcus and then me. “Well, what mysteries abound here? What can I help you with?”

Marcus beat me to it by a hair. “We need your healing talents, and then a gate.”

She arched a brow. “Do you now.” She assessed his shoulder, but then her eyes snapped to me. “You are on cycle.”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

Her head tilted. “But you are not a Dragon.”

“No.”

Havoc stepped forward. “Why are you living out here, in the middle of fucking nowhere?”

She appeared amused. “Where else would a Watcher retire to? This place is full of life. It recharges me with every breath I take.”

The Watcher took two steps toward us, and froze.

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