The Shifter and the Witch

Lucy

No dizziness or nausea sets in when I sit up, and my headache doesn’t worsen, so I stay upright. Deklan watches me for signs of distress. The guy looks ready to catch me if I keel over.

When he keeps watching me, I start to feel a little self-conscious, so I break eye contact and look out the window to my right. Beyond the glass is only darkness, so I can’t see much other than a dirt driveway to the left and a black F-150 parked near the house.

“Lucy - ”

Hearing my name come out of his mouth has my gaze swinging back to him.

“Where’d you get my name?” I ask.

“I followed those demons into Elixir,” wolfy replies. “I heard you being introduced. You were amazing, by the way.”

I blink at the unexpected compliment. For some reason, it pleases me to know that wolfy saw me perform and was impressed. And that surprises me. After our confrontation last night, you’d think I wouldn’t give a flying fig what this guy thought of me or my singing.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“After your set, those demons were watching you,” wolfy informs me. “When you left, they followed you out, and I followed them.”

The look that comes to wolfy’s face as he says that makes it clear how concerned he was for me.

The self-consciousness I was feeling moments ago returns when his gaze lingers on me, and I start to look away from him, but then I notice that his eyes look like they’re getting lighter and more silvery. Instead of looking away, I watch as his irises turn a crisp white-blue. They are stunning. And the look in them? I get the impression it isn’t just the man looking at me now; it’s the wolf too.

I swallow thickly.

Whether man, wolf, or both, it doesn’t matter. The way he’s looking at me? Gets my blood pumping a little faster.

A minute goes by before I realize that I’m staring, then I blink and finally manage to glance away from him. Before meeting his crystalline eyes again, I get my wits about me. Wolfy doesn’t need to know how he’s affecting me.

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” I point out.

When he answers, his voice is deeper than it was moments before.

“Deklan,” he shares. “Winters.”

He extends his hand to me for a shake, and I slip my hand into his bigger one. The warmth of his palm seeps into mine as our hands pump up and down, and the scent of pine and earth, and soap wafts to my nose.

I noticed his delicious scent earlier, when he was taking care of the cut on my head, but now I’m getting a stronger hit, and I’m tempted to lean into him, tuck my nose into his neck, and sniff him good.

I shouldn’t have to tell myself not to sniff this guy up, but I do.

Girl! Do not sniff this guy up.

In an effort to obey my own command, I let go of Deklan’s hand and sit back, away from temptation. I hiss in pain when my back hits the back of the sofa.

“Yeah,” Deklan winces in sympathy and the silver in his eyes recedes a little.

“I put some salve on the scrapes on your back and taped bandages over them while you were out, but they’ll probably sting for a bit,” he tells me.

His kindness makes me feel like a real jerk. I was an ass to him last night, and he saved my life tonight. (He was an ass last night too, sure, but that was only because I ruined his plans.) I owe him an apology, and I owe him a debt for his brave actions tonight.

Pride makes it hard for me to apologize, but I do it anyway.

“Listen, Deklan,” I say. “About last night. I’m really sorry.”

At my words, his eyes start changing again. Silver starts swirling in with the blue.

“It looked like you were in trouble,” I continue. “I thought I was helping,” I explain. “I didn’t mean to get in the way.”

Deklan’s quiet for several moments, but finally he responds. “Thank you for trying to help me last night,” he says. “I appreciate your intentions.”

He surprises me when he makes his own apology. “I’m sorry for my...” he pauses, and his smile goes crooked. “…surliness,” he finishes. His smile goes from crooked to downright cheeky. “Since I saved your ass and you didn’t save mine,” he says. “It seems you owe me one.”

I can’t help but smile back at him. “And I’m guessing you already have something in mind I can do for you?” I ask.

“As a matter of fact,” he confirms. “I’m trying to find a particular demon.”

As he goes on to tell me what he wants, his expression turns serious once more. “I would consider us square if you would do your scrying voodoo for me and help me locate him.”

“My ‘scrying voodoo’?” I lift a brow at his words.

I’m a witch, not a voodoo doctor.

“Yeah, you know. With a pendulum and a map, and...” Deklan’s voice trails off as he starts miming using a pendulum and moves his hand in a circle.

As he mimes, I cock an eyebrow at him.

Is he man-splaining right now?

“I know what scrying is dumbass,” I mutter and pair my words with an eye roll. “And for the record, scrying isn’t ‘voodoo’.”

“Whatever,” he shrugs. “Will you do it?”

“Yeah. I can do that. What’s the name of the demon you’re looking for?”

“Malek.”

My brows lift to my hairline, and my eyes widen at the name drop and at the venom in Deklan’s voice. He has a hate-on for Malek, something fierce.

“Malek?” I repeat.

Deklan nods. All business.

I give a low whistle. “That guy is seriously bad news,” I say.

The comment is unnecessary. I’m sure he’s well aware of that fact.

“Why are you trying to find him? I would highly recommend avoiding him.”

Face stark, Deklan answers.

“He killed my best friend,” he tells me.

Well, that explains the hate-on.

Losing someone sucks the big one. That’s an understatement, sure, but it sums things up well enough. I’ve been there, done that, and never want to do it again. Ever. Hence, my best friend is my cat, Jinx.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I murmur.

Deklan accepts my condolences with a dip of his head. He doesn’t offer any more details and I don’t pry.

The need to apologize again for jumping in on his fight last night rises inside me.

“I’m sorry about last night,” I repeat, and he nods.

“It’s okay,” he replies. “I get it. From your vantage point, I’m sure it looked like I needed help,” he allows graciously. “It’s alright. Really.”

That’s kind of him to say, but it’s far from okay.

Things start to feel awkward after we’ve both made apologies, and my thoughts turn to making an exit.

“Well,” I say, and clear my throat. Getting to my feet, I move out from between the sofa and table. I figure we’re done here for the night, and I don’t like awkward situations, so I’m ready to go.

“Where are you going?” Deklan asks and gets to his feet.

“Home. Once you point me in the direction of my boots,” I reply.

I look around the immediate area but don’t spy my boots.

“Are you sure?” he asks. It’s obvious by his expression that he doesn’t approve of my plan. “I mean, you shouldn’t be alone.”

I tip my head back a little to look up at him. The guy has to be 6′2", at least. I’m barely 5′7".

“You might have a concussion,” he says, frowning. “Someone needs to check on you every once in a while.”

It chafes a little that he assumes I’m single. I’m a badass, and, on a hottie scale, I’d rate myself a solid seven, maybe even an eight. Shouldn’t he assume I’m taken?

“What makes you think I don’t have someone at home to check on me?” I ask.

Deklan’s wide mouth opens and closes twice before sound finally comes out.

“I just assumed,” he replies. “I figured a boyfriend wouldn’t let you fight demons alone at night.”

My brows wing up. So, he assumed I’m single, and he assumed a guy would dictate what I could or couldn’t do?

“Let me?” I scoff and set my hands on my hips as I throw him a pointed ‘excuse-me’ look.

He flounders, no words forthcoming, as he does another fish imitation.

“It so happens you assumed right. I am happily single right now,” I admit and cross my arms in front of my chest. “But that is neither here nor there,” I continue. “If some guy was lucky enough to be able to call himself my boyfriend, he wouldn’t ‘let me’ anything,” I inform him.

Deklan does an impression of a bobblehead. “Sure. Right. Of course,” he agrees.

His discomfort has my lips twitching. He looks pretty cute as he hurries to backpedal.

“Anyways,” he says, and tries to move past his faux pas. “I think it might be a good idea if you stayed here tonight.” He pauses and continues after a beat. “There’s a bed in the spare room. You could sleep there. And I could check on you every so often.”

I don’t think I have a concussion, but I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“Alright.” I agree.

Jinx’ll be fine until I get home. He won’t give a crap where I am until tomorrow when he needs his food and water bowls refilled and his kitty litter freshened.

“Alright,” Deklan echoes. Relief shows on his face before he covers it up. “I’ll show you upstairs.”

I follow him when he turns and heads out of the room, and I must confess, I enjoy the view as he leads me upstairs. The man has a beautiful body. His ass, in particular, is quite delectable. I watch the twin globes bunch and flex as we climb the stairs. At the top, we go right, then approach a door on the left, which Deklan opens.

“I’ll go get you one of my T-shirts to sleep in,” he says, moving aside so I can enter the room.

“Thanks,” I reply.

I cross the threshold into a bedroom that’s twice the size of my own. There’s a large bed to my left, with bedside tables on either side of it. There’s a chair over by the window and a dresser along the wall to my right.

As I check things out, I can hear Deklan moving around in a room down the hallway. A drawer opens and then closes. Then I can hear his footsteps approaching. A second later, he appears in the doorway. He crosses the room to me and holds out a dark grey T-shirt.

“Here you go,” he says.

“Thanks,” I reply, accepting the offering from him.

“No problem,” he replies. “Do you need anything else?”

I shake my head.

“Okay, then,” he says. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll come and wake you in an hour or two.”

“Alright,” I reply. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he echoes.

Do I check out his ass again when he turns and heads out of the room?

Yes. Yes, I do.

***

Deklan

At 4:30, my alarm goes off. Bleary-eyed, I slap my hand around my bedside table until I find my phone and silence it. It’s been an hour and a half since Lucy and I went to bed, and I feel like shit. I imagine I’m gonna feel even worse tomorrow.

Throwing off my covers, I get up. I left my sweatpants untied when I went to bed, as I usually do, and they’re riding low on my hips. Before I go check on my guest, I tug them up a little and tie them. Then, I quietly head down the hallway and to the room I put Lucy in.

She’s left the door open a crack.

I press my palm to the door, quietly push it wider, and step into the room to find her sound asleep on her side facing me.

She looks so sweet and young while she sleeps. My attention goes over to her pants and bustier, which are on the chair by the window.

She didn’t look so young - or sweet - when she was in that outfit.

Knowing she’s wearing my shirt now fills me with some unwarranted, primitive male satisfaction. That’s stupid, I know. I guess the old caveman gene is alive and kicking.

Quietly, I cross the room and come to a stop near the head of the bed. Why I’m being quiet, I have no idea. The whole point of coming in here now is to wake her up.

Clearing my throat, I bend toward her. Even in the darkness, I can see her well, and I can tell there’s a little more colour in her cheeks than there was earlier. I hate to disturb her. I know rest will go a long way toward helping her feel better. But she may have a concussion, and it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“Lucy,” I whisper.

She doesn’t stir, so I raise my voice and bend a little closer.

“Lucy.”

No response.

“Lucy,” I go full volume with my voice and jostle her arm a little.

“What?” she grumbles, scowling, and I can’t help smiling. The way her face scrunches up is pretty cute.

“How are you feeling?” I ask quietly.

Her shoulder moves a fraction, and I gather the gesture was supposed to have been a shrug. Her scowl slips as sleep tries to reclaim her. I quickly interrupt her fall back into dreams.

“How’s the head?” I ask.

I stroke my fingertips above the bandage at her temple.

“Better,” she mumbles. She opens her eyes at my gentle touch and looks up at me.

Her eyes drop and take in my bare torso, and if I’m not mistaken, she likes what she sees. My wolf emits a muffled rumble in the back of my mind. He’s as pleased with Lucy’s survey as I am.

She lifts her sleepy eyes back up to my face, and as I gaze into her hazel, almond-shaped eyes, it occurs to me that a guy could lose himself in those eyes if he wasn’t careful.

I take that thought as my cue to wrap this up. I don’t have time right now to lose myself in someone’s eyes. I need to hunt down Malek and end him.

I straighten up abruptly and step back. “I’ll check on you again around six,” I tell her.

“Can’t wait,” she grumps.

That puts a smile back on my lips.

As she snuggles deeper into her pillow, I turn and leave, pulling the door almost closed behind me. It’s barely audible, but I hear my wolf whine a little at being separated from the witch.

Lucy may have started off on our shit-list, but she’s upgraded herself to our ‘I want’ list. With her looks and smart mouth, it wasn’t a hard sell. Working with her is going to pose a challenge, but I’ve got to keep my priorities in the right order.

My list of priorities is short.

Find Malek.

Kill Malek.

Maybe when those tasks are done and Tuk has been avenged, I’ll add ‘pursue Lucy’ to my to-do list.

Maybe?

Pfft.

Who am I kidding?

As soon as I’ve taken care of Malek, ‘Pursue Lucy’ is going to be stamped at the top of my to-do list in all caps.

I get back in bed and reset my alarm. At six, I check on my scryer again. She grumps adorably again but otherwise seems fine. She knows her name, my name, where she is, and what month we’re in. That’s good enough for me.

At 7:30, I interrupt her sleep a third time, and again she grumps but gets the answers right.

Half asleep, I reset my alarm for nine. When it goes off, I’m not sure I even slept. I know I must have because it seems like I only just set the alarm a second ago, but I sure don’t feel like I did. I feel like a zombie.

After blindly silencing the beeping, I drag myself out of bed. Expecting to find Lucy sleeping and witness more of her cute grumping, I come up short when I find the bed empty.

That wakes me up.

“Lucy?” I call.

I head down the hallway towards the bathroom, thinking maybe she’s in there. She’s not.

I call her name again as I make my way downstairs. Again, nothing. At the bottom of the stairs, I notice her boots and knife aren’t by the front door where I left them. A peak in the living room shows she’s not in there.

I continue further down the hallway and into the kitchen. There, sitting on the end of the island is the T-shirt I gave her to sleep in, folded neatly. Seeing that, I frown. She left? Without saying a word? She could have at least left me a note.

It’s not until I’m closer that I notice she did leave me a note. A piece of paper is tucked partially under my shirt.

Deklan,

I have a gig at ‘The Spot’ tonight. I’ll teleport myself to your place when I’m done. Text me if this doesn’t work for you.

Lucy

Below her scrawled name, she left her cell number.

Note in hand, I collect my shirt and head back upstairs. In my room, I toss my shirt on the end of my bed and grab my phone off the bedside table. I add Lucy’s number into my contacts and shoot her a quick text.

How are you feeling?

She replies a minute later. Not bad.

A little more detail would have been appreciated, but at least I know she’s awake and feeling okay.

See you tonight. I text.

A thumbs-up emoji comes back at me, and I don’t bother replying to that.

Flopping down on the bed, I set my phone back on the bedside table and shut my eyes. In seconds I’m sound asleep.