Page 47 of Enspelled

But I don’t trust her.

“She knows something,” I murmur. “And her price isn’t all that high.”

I start the engine.

Driving through town is beyond reckless, but there’s no other way to reach the grocery store parking lot, which seems to be a place I’ve spent more time than just about anywhere in Madden Grove lately.

I pass through Main Street, the Madden Grove Tearoom, still smelling faintly of smoke, and the tourists gathered outside the ruined husk of the building.

But that’s not all I spot.

The tables of the Wolfe Trattoria, one of Madden Grove’s many wolf-owned businesses, are full. Whether they come after me when they’ve finished their midday meal or tonight, isn’t important. It will happen today. I’m sure of it.

“No more fucking around, Keane,” I mutter as I climb out of my truck in the grocery store parking lot and stalk into the forest, my nose alert for Mara’s scent. “Time to get the job done.”

I walk for a good twenty or thirty minutes, following a winding path through the forest littered with fresh and old tracks that the witch must have taken before. They all lead to the same place.

Long after I’ve lost sight of the parking lot, I step through the dense forest and into a small patch of land, not quite a clearing, that surrounds a small cabin.

And sitting on a small wooden stool just outside of it is a familiar brown-haired, brown-eyed witch in baggy pants and a hoodie, with a red burn down the side of her face. Mara.

I don’t know what she was doing, or if she was doing anything but sitting and staring into the forest, but she rises from her little stool and meets my eyes. “Have you figured out that I’m not lying yet? You took your time.”

Yep, she still has the same balls she had before.

I stalk over to her, shifting my right hand to claws as I do.

And the witch? She just stands there, waiting for me.

Her expression never changes from tranquil calmness as I press my claws against her throat and pin her against the cabin.

My wolf growls.

He doesn’t like being this close to her. At all. An image of Briar flashes in my mind, one that’s closely followed by the elusive sultry scent that man and wolf can’t seem to get enough of. My cock stirs in response.

Not the fucking time,I snarl at my wolf.

He settles down with a growl of annoyance that tells me he’s still not happy to be this close to a witch we don’t trust.

“Where is Layla Markham?” I demand.

“Wrong question, wolf. What you should be asking me is where would a person hide her?”

I stare into her eyes, and everything in me wants to ram my claws into her neck and end her. My body trembles with the need. But I hold myself back.

For now.

“Vera?” I grate, my voice emerging more wolf than man as I fight back my killing need.

Mara nods as if I don’t have claws sharp enough to tear through human skin. “Vera has an old cabin in the woods that used to belong to her mother before she died. Although Vera has made it clear over the years how much she hates it, how ugly it is, and how little her mother left her when she died. It all seemed a little too much complaining.”

I cock my head. “You think she was saying it so no one would ever believe she’d keep anything important there?”

“I do.”

“So Layla…?” I prompt.

“There’s every reason to believe Layla is there.”

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