Harper gave her appearance a final once-over before heading out to meet Sam and her man. A pair of black slacks, matched with a fitted faux-tuxedo shirt worn with the top few buttons undone to reveal a hint of cleavage, emphasized her curvy figure. She had decided on a pair of low-heeled patent leather half-boots that gave her that casual elegant look she had cultivated in Atlanta, without being completely unapproachable.

For jewelry, she had decided that if she had it, she should flaunt it. Pulling out some of her own custom pieces, she had selected a pair of teardrop, chandelier earrings, pulling her hair back in a loose, thick braid to show them off. Around her neck, she wore another of her creations, a blushing pink magnolia blossom of glass, embraced within a cocoon of golden wire and hanging from gold chain so it nestled within the exposed V of her cleavage.

Satisfied, she grabbed her favorite coat, a vintage ladies Chesterfield coat in a beautiful dusky rose wool, and her purse before she went downstairs. No sooner had she set the alarm and closed the door of her place then she heard a strange horn sounding off. Jerking around, she found an exuberant Sam waving from the driver’s side of a glorified golf cart.

Now, golf cart gives a rather uninspiring impression, and the vehicle was anything but unimpressive. It was more like a miniaturized all-terrain Jeep, complete with roll bars and a cover. Painted a dark, metallic silver, with the Cœur de Lyon crest emblazoned on the side doors, it was clearly a high-end utility vehicle, and perfectly suited for navigating the more narrow, Old World inspired, cobblestone paths that wound throughout the Village.

“All aboard! Figured you could use a lift, and this way I can show you a few short cuts,” Sam explained as she waved Harper over.

Climbing into the vehicle, Harper eyed her friend. As Sam peeled off, barely muffling a rather witchy cackle of glee, Harper finally said, “You know, sweetie, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy. Something’s changed about you.”

Sam was silent for a few moments, long enough Harper wondered if she had unwittingly crossed a line, after all, while they had been close in college, it had been years since they had spent much time together. Phone calls, emails, messaging, even Facebook stalking was one thing, but after college, both of them had buried themselves in their new careers: Sam working on her Masters’ degree while Harper went back to Georgia to attend law school.

Suddenly, Sam cast Harper a wide smile, her eyes twinkling over the rim of her catseye glasses. “Honestly? I am happy. Ecstatic! There’s a part of me that knows that I’m jinxing everything by being this happy, but you know what? If you don’t cling to those happy moments when the fall in your lap, if you don’t wring out every ounce of sheer joy that you can, then if or when it disappears, you’ll regret it.”

Sam shrugged, tilting her chin up and wrinkling her freckled nose. “Besides, there are things worth fighting for, and happiness is one of those things.”

After that, the two fell into more casual conversation, slipping back into the bantering and teasing as they caught each other up on the past eight years.

“No! He dumped you because his daddy told him so? And now he’s working here, too?” Harper was aghast. AGHAST!

Sam laughed. “Oh yeah, he’s been avoiding me, and since Rik set it up so that Travis would oversee the Estates side of the property and I’d take care of the Village side of the property, we don’t run into each other all that often. But every time we do, he gives me the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes before he runs off, tail between his legs.”

“And your man is fine with you working with your ex?” Okay, that just seemed weird.

“Oh yeah. That was a bit weird…” See? Totally weird! “But between you and me? I think it’s Rik’s way of rubbing Travis’ nose in our relationship. Rik’s…well, you’ll see soon enough.”

Yep, that was definitely a blush creeping up Sam’s neck. With her pale skin, it was clear to see even in the ambient light glowing from the cart’s dashboard. The headlights from the cart illuminated the trail that led across the property as they passed over a bridge. Harper only loosely paid attention to the scenery, given the sun had already set behind the western mountains.

“To be perfectly fair,” Sam finally chimed in, a bit reluctantly, “Things weren’t bad with Travis, he’s a good guy at heart, but we both knew that I wasn’t his anam cara or true mate…whatever the wolves have, anyways. I don’t think either of us were invested in each other, as much as we were comfortable together.”

Waving a hand dismissively, Sam glanced at Harper, “Enough about my drama, sistah! Spill it. What’s going on with you? Why drop the whole big shot lawyer thing? Why hide your witchy side?”

Slumping back in her seat, Harper nervously stroked her left wrist, where her bracelet would be if it hadn’t snapped while she had been sleeping. Looking blindly out into the dusky landscape, Harper brushed a nervous hand over her hair. “It’s…a long story.”

“Well, we’re only a few minutes out from the restaurant, so give me the Cliff Notes version. Do I need to go get Irish on someone? Should I call in my brothers?” Sam asked, with all seriousness.

Huffing out a laugh, Harper shook her head. “No, but thank you, sweetie. Let’s just say that my paternal grandparents had very specific plans on how I should be living my life. I disagree. Witches reach their majority at age thirty. Since I turn thirty in just a few weeks, I decided it would be best if I took myself out of reach before they do something drastic.”

“Drastic?” And there went Sam’s patented eyebrow raise. The one that Harper had spent hours in front of her mirror perfecting, because it was just that effective.

“Witches, remember? The Llewellyns are old school bluebloods. Very wealthy, very particular. My mother’s family, the Morgans, were not. But my parents were annwyl, beloveds or true mates, and my father went against his parents’ demands that he marry into another blueblood witch family. Unfortunately, when my parents died in a car accident when I was eight, the Llewellyns swept in with their lawyers and claimed custody of me.”

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Harper’s gaze grew distant. “It was rough. They were strict, enrolled me in a Catholic school for girls, even made me attend cotillions throughout the summer to try and match me to an appropriate suitor. And witchcraft outside of very precise circumstances, under very rigidly controlled guidance, was discouraged.”

Harper grimaced in remembrance, “In high school, I did everything to try and please them. They were very, very good with the guilt. I dieted, stopped using my powers, struggled to be perfect, even became a cheerleader. A model student. Until I had a bit of a nervous breakdown my senior year. After that, I had enough. I got one of my uncles to support me in going away for college, ended up in Portland, as far from Atlanta as I could get, and for those four years I had a taste of freedom.”

“Sadly, I knew I had to go back, but I decided to follow my uncle’s footsteps and become a lawyer. I was determined to not have my fate be controlled again because of legal shenanigans. I got into law school, made connections with some athletes, and went into contract law in Atlanta…all the while, giving my grandparents the proper lip service they desired. Besides, one of my cousins made an advantageous marriage, so that took up a lot of their attention.”

“Now, it’s too late for them to interfere. I’ve already resigned from my job, formally applied to the Witches’ High Coven for recognition as a solitary practitioner now that I’ve reached my majority, and here I am. I figured coming to a Sanctuary would keep the Llewellyn’s from doing anything drastic, and everything just seemed to come together.”

Sam wrinkled her nose and chuckled. “Fate’s definitely a tricky contortionist, but hopefully she’s got something great lined up for you!”

“We’ll see,” Harper replied noncommittally, still lightly stroking her bare left wrist.

When Sam took the cart into a large, underground parking lot located beneath the Chateau, Harper couldn’t help feeling a bit impressed. The Estates were fully modernized, at least as far as technology and security went from what she could see, but it had all been done with a keen eye for maintaining that Medieval-Renaissance-Rustic Rockies feel. Even the parking structure, built within the hill the Chateau stood upon, had sweeping, Gothic arches and recessed lights that brought to mind the catacombs of Paris. Only, you know, without the fear of the Phantom lurking around some dark corner.

Oh, the Phantom! Harper was never more tempted by anything in that moment then the thought of getting out of the car and belting out her favorite number from that particular musical. Sadly, she remembered at the last moment the security cameras that no doubt covered the area, and didn’t feel quite like giving an impromptu performance.

Joining Sam, the two took the elevator up to the main floor. No sooner had the elevator doors swept open, however, then Sam was suddenly swept up into the strong arms of a tall, ridiculously good looking blond man while a monstrously huge man stood there glaring, arms crossed over a massive chest covered in a black chef’s coat.

“Woman, what the ever-living fuck are you thinking?” The blond man growled, burying his face in Sam’s neck and clinging to her like he hadn’t seen her in years.

Sam turned an exasperated look back over her shoulder towards Harper. “Save me?” she mouthed, but going by the amused twinkle in her eyes and the fact she had wrapped both arms and legs around the man, made Harper doubt the sincerity of the request. The blond guy must be Rik, although Harper couldn’t figure out who the glowering mountain was, though he did look vaguely familiar.

Clearing her throat, Sam patted Rik’s back. “Sorry, babes, you were taking too long to get ready! Besides, I just went down to the Village, it hasn’t even been like half-an-hour…”

Rik huffed, leaning back to give a half-hearted glare as he allowed Sam to slide down his body, though his embrace kept her from pulling away. “Yeah, I know, but it’s only been like days since you were in a fight, and you’re pregnant!”

Well, if anyone in the Estates hadn’t known, they did now, given the increasing volume of each word that Rik gritted out, until he had shouted the last word near the top of his lungs.

“Yes, I know,” Sam hissed, pulling back out of Rik’s arms and slapping him on the chest, “I’m the one knocked up, remember? And so much for keeping it on the down-low.”

“Congratulations,” Harper said sincerely, breaking into the little tiff before it escalated.

Finding herself under scrutiny from both a pair of vividly emerald-and-amber eyes and a pair of storm-dark gray eyes from the man mountain, Harper titled her chin and met their gaze boldly, keeping her expression warm and congratulatory.

“Harper Llewellyn,” Sam said, stepping next to her friend and hooking arms. “The handsome blond idiot is my anam cara, Rikard Leon, Scion of Clan Leon of the Sidhe, and all-around pain-in-my-ass.”

Rik’s smirk was reply enough to Sam’s quip, but he quickly turned a charming, sincere smile towards Harper as he offered his hand. “Sorry, I always seem to find myself tripping up around ma petite flamme. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, and please, call me Rik.”

A tall man, at least a few inches taller than Harper’s own 5’11” height, Rikard “Rik” Leon was the epitome of golden masculine beauty. He wasn’t pretty, but his cheekbones and classically handsome features were stunning, and when he grinned, those brilliant eyes gleaming in amusement, he was breath-taking. Muscular, without being bulky, his clothing was tasteful and tailored to fit those broad shoulders and narrow waist.

As Harper clasped hands, she felt a strange tingle along her senses. It was subtle, but for just a heartbeat, she got a sense of the intense, powerful forces tightly leashed within Rik’s body. A faint flicker as his glamour tested hers, and Harper felt her heart stutter. In the fathomless depths of his eyes, a predator gauged her worth before disappearing behind that friendly, charming mask. In that moment, Harper knew that if he had believed her a potential threat she would be facing a much different man.

“And the giant back there,” Sam said, snagging Harper’s attention away from Rik and towards the glowering, dark figure, “Is Betrand Goyle, but everyone calls him Bertie.”

Bertie uncrossed those tree trunks he used as arms as he stepped forward. He was huge, easily taller than even Rik, head and shoulders taller than Harper, but more than that, he was broad everywhere. Big, dark, and bulky. His head was shaved, though a hint of dark shadow covered his pate, and his thick, blue-black beard was cropped close, emphasizing a wide, strong jaw. His face was brutal, his features the very definition of roughly hewn. Bertie was a thundercloud made that much darker in the shadows cast by Rik’s golden glory. 

Then Bertie smiled. The open, friendly smile was bright against his dark beard, his dark charcoal eyes gleaming with surprising warmth, as his huge hand engulfed Harper’s in a surprisingly gentle grip.

“Yes, please, call me Bertie. Any friend of Sam’s is a friend of mine,” he proclaimed, and Harper’s heart may have stuttered just a little as she stared up at the gentle giant.

Good God, that smile! Shaking herself, Harper grinned up at Bertie, “Well then, Bertie, it is my sincere pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Right then, introductions are out of the way, time to eat! Come on, Harpy, follow me!” Sam grabbed hold of Harper’s other arm and tugged her away from Bertie, leading down a long hall towards the restaurant, with a chuckling Rik and a bemused Bertie falling in behind them.

“I swear by my pretty pink petticoats, woman, if you keep calling me Harpy, I am going to have to destroy you,” Harper muttered down at Sam with a glare belied by her twitching lips. “But, since you’re expecting and all, it can wait.”

“Pish posh, you adore me!” Sam waved her free hand dismissively as she determinedly strode towards the incredible smells coming from the restaurant further down the hall.

“That’s my job,” Rik said in a low, teasing purr that had Sam blushing a furious red, much to Harper’s amusement.

Glancing over her shoulder, Harper gave the handsome blond man a knowing look, “And if you’ve already put a bun in her oven, one you take very seriously. Maybe you should ask her for a raise?”

As Rik burst into sputtering laughter, Bertie slapped his back to assist the choking man, sending the handsome blond staggering. With a snort of amusement, Bertie commented, “Poor Rik, looks like Sam’s found another protector.”

“Sweetie,” Harper said with pure Southern sincerity, “Sam and I have had each other’s backs since we were literally school girls. She may be a cow, but she’s my cow.”

“Aww,” Sam cooed, batting her lashes up at Harper, “I do declare, my dear, you really do give a damn!”

“You keep mangling Gone With the Wind quotes, and I swear I won’t!” Harper rejoined, shaking her head and laughing as they entered the restaurant. “Now let’s get you fed, baby momma, and then let Rik put you to bed, because you’re just too darned ornery for me to deal with tonight.”