Christian sat at the counter and watched as Ryan unpacked the groceries he’d just brought upstairs for her. She was filling out, and no longer looked too thin for her large eyes. And she smiled a lot more since she’d settled into his home with him. But something was bothering her tonight. “What is it, she’ashil? What’s wrong?”

She closed the pantry door and smiled at him. “Nothing, really. I’m just trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do.”

“Do?” He could think of many things he’d like her to do right now, and they all involved a lot less clothing.

“Yeah. They’re trying to tell me something, but I can’t figure out what it is.”

Ah, her spirit helpers. At least that’s what his Navajo mother would’ve called them. His father would have called her psycho.

Christian called her “she’ashil”—sweetheart.

He studied her closely. Sometimes the spirits would become too excited at her being able to hear them and they would overwhelm her, all screaming at her at once, but she was working to get them to understand that she couldn’t figure out what they wanted of her when they did that.

Still, at times, they forgot. In the past, the only thing that would save her sanity was to shoot herself full of heroin. That was, until she’d met him. Now she didn’t need the opiates to drown out the voices when a little vampire blood did the trick. And it was a lot better for her health. “Is it too much?” In a way, Christian hoped she would say yes, for then he would have an excuse to give her his blood. His fangs and his cock ached just thinking about it.

She turned to put some broccoli in the fridge, and as always, Christian couldn’t take his eyes from her bright hair flowing down her back…all the colors of a summer sunset.

“No, they’re not screaming at me, at least. Just forgetting to not talk over each other.” She faced him and frowned. “Something about a spell.”

Christian came around to her side of the island and leaned back against the counter across from her. “A spell?”

She nodded, listening hard. But then shook her head. “I can’t make it out. Something about a spell…hidden…it’s coming…and they want me to have it.” She sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

There was a knock on the door right before it opened. Christian shot over to the entryway, fangs bared, but caught the scent of their guest right before she poked her head inside.

“Hey, Christian. Sorry. I didn’t know you were still here. I told Ryan I’d let her borrow this.” Grace came walking in with a book in her hands, smiling brightly.

He sensed no fear at all from her, despite what had to be his menacing appearance. She really was the perfect mate for Aiden. “Hey, Grace,” he told her as she patted him on the arm on her way past him.

Returning to the counter, he watched the two witches greet each other with a hug. His heart warmed toward their visitor, and all the witches actually. They’d accepted Ryan into their fold like she’d always been there, even if his female still strayed on the side of caution around them.

There was only one female who hadn’t taken to her, and he had no idea why. It’s not like he and Shea were ever anything more than friends.

“Here you go, sweet cheeks,” Grace said. “The history of the Moss witches! Or at least as much of it as we could piece together so far. Maybe you can add whatever you can remember to it.” She dropped the large book onto the counter.

As she swung it up and around, an old piece of parchment paper slid out and fluttered to the floor. Grace bent down to get it, and nearly knocked heads with Ryan as she went down.

Christian leaped over the counter as Ryan slapped her hands over her ears and fell to her knees. Her eyes squeezed shut and tears streamed down her cheeks. He grabbed her wrists and forced her to look up at him as Grace knelt by his side with the paper in her hand.

“Ryan! She’ashil! Tell them to shut up. Just tell them to shut up.” He repeated himself over and over as her eyes went from his mouth to the paper and back.

“What’s happening?” Grace asked.

He forgot that Grace had never seen them get this bad before. “It’s the voices. They’re trying to tell her something, but they get too fucking enthusiastic about it sometimes.” Christian tried again to get Ryan’s attention. “Just tell them.”

Squeezing her eyes shut again, Ryan did as Christian told her and screamed at the voices. “I can’t help you if…one at a time…shut up! Just shut the hell up!” A few seconds later, she opened her eyes and slowly lowered her hands away from her ears. She held them at the ready, though, just in case.

“What is it, Ryan?” Grace asked. “What were they saying?”

She took Christian’s hand and squeezed, but her eyes were on the parchment. “What is that?”

Grace looked down at the paper. “It’s an old spell my parents left for me. I found it after they died, but I have no idea what it is.”

“Can I see it?” Ryan held out her free hand and Grace gave her the spell.

Christian watched as she studied the scrawls on the page. He wanted to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but she was concentrating so hard on the ragged piece of paper, he didn’t want to interrupt.

When she looked up at him, her turquoise blue eyes were filled with fright.

“What is it?” he asked.

Ryan’s eyes never left his. “This isn’t just a spell. This is the spell.”

“What do you mean?”

“The spell for what?” Grace asked at the same time.

Ryan looked back and forth between them. “It’s the spell that will send the demons back to hell. For good.”

“How do you know this, Ryan?” Grace asked her.

“The spirits told her,” Christian answered for her.

“But can you read it?” Grace asked. “Or can they?”

Ryan nodded, and her frightened eyes went back to Christian. He knew exactly why she was scared. As the only one who could read the spell, it would be up to her to perform it.

It would be up to his female to send the demons back to hell.

Grace jumped to her feet. “I have to tell Keira!” She whipped out her cell phone. “I have to tell Aiden!” Putting it to her ear, she listened while it rang. While she waited for someone to answer, she asked Ryan, “Will this get that fucker out of Aiden?”

Christian helped Ryan stand up. “If it doesn’t, I’ll rip it out of him myself. If Nik doesn’t figure out a way to do it first.”

But his heart thumped in fear at the thought of Ryan facing those things, even as his body hardened and his fangs shot down instinctively to protect her.