Ryder jumped into the passenger’s seat of my Jeep and shut the door.

I hit the gas, and we zoomed away from his house and toward the highway.

Explanation after explanation crowded in my head to give reason to the voice back in Ryder’s house. From a ghost playing a joke, to my mind finally snapping. A niggling sensation insisted it wasn’t just any spirit; otherwise, how could it have mirrored my mom’s words? Coincidences happened, but this was too freaky to call it a chance event.

“What the fuck went down in there?” Ryder asked. “Are you okay to drive?”

“I’m fine.” With a lungful of air, I told him everything, starting with my mom’s visit, what the demonic girl had whispered in my ear yesterday, and the boob conversation with the entity back at his place. Plus, how I had no control over my body for those few moments when I’d touched myself. Ryder might have been a prick when we’d dated, but he knew as much about me as Knox and hadn’t run away yet. Didn’t mean he embraced what I was, but he didn’t push me away either.

“Everything must be connected,” I continued. “But I haven’t worked out why this is happening. Have I pissed off a demon I’d vanquished? It’s possible?” I overtook a sedan and looked over at Ryder, and when he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile along with him.

“And I mean, why would my mom of all people warn me? Or did I misunderstand her trying to choke me as her way of making me listen? Hell, I’m so confused. What am I missing?”

“So let me get this right.” Ryder clicked on his seatbelt. “There’s a spirit following you around and he makes you pleasure yourself so he can watch? Because I’m down for that too.”

“Really?” I cut him a hard stare while he smirked, and his eyes already glazed over, probably already in his own fantasy. “Damn, Ryder, get your head out of the gutter.”

He placed a hand between his thighs and adjusted himself. “That ghost has it right, and I’ll do the same when I return to haunt everyone.” But when he met my gaze that grin evaporated. “But of course it’s wrong. Fucking filthy spirit.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “Anyway, is that why we’re breaking every road rule? To get to your voodoo practitioner’s place quicker? Worried Mr. Ghost will tempt you again?”

I eased off the pedal and pulled into the center lane behind a white hatchback. “I’m not going that fast. And if you won’t take this seriously, then I’m dropping you off here.”

“In the middle of nowhere? You’re sadistic, and I adore your style.” His hand crept to my thigh and settled there—warm and comforting. “All right, so let’s work out this shit. You have a stalker spirit who has the hots for you. He and your mom have warned you about a dark force coming for your soul. So this means the fucker must be someone mega important to get your mother to pay you a visit.”

“Exactly.” I took the ramp on my right and jumped onto another freeway, taking us farther south. Few cars joined our journey, and the edges of the road were clustered with lush, green trees.

“So, who have you pissed off?” Ryder asked.

I licked my lips and chewed on my cheek, pondering all the demons I’d vanquished and spirits I’d helped cross over. “Fuck if I know. What if it’s someone from Mom’s past? Maybe that’s why she dumped me, you know, to keep me protected.”

Ryder’s hand twitched against my leg, and he sighed. “Sephy, honey, your parents were coldhearted assholes. They deserve no excuses for what they did. Perhaps it’s just something getting revenge by coming after you. But that doesn’t make your mom or dad any less of a monster.”

I had no argument to come back with because he was right, and me coming up with an excuse was me wanting to believe that maybe my parent weren’t A-holes. I used to think I’d been abandoned because I was secretly a superhero and this was my family’s way of keeping me safe from the villain coming for me. Foolish dreams. “Well, hopefully we’ll have luck with Roseline.”

“Never met a voodoo priestess before. Can’t wait.” The sarcasm in his voice wasn’t lost on me, but then again, Ryder had a hate-hate relationship with magic folk. He’d had several run-ins with witches who’d tried to kill him. Let’s be honest—lion shifters weren’t common, and apparently witches used their hair or nails or organs in spells. Apparently, the stuff was powerful in spells. Yep, some witches used animal or human parts to enhance their enchantments. It was illegal, but the practice didn’t stop them.

“She’s not a priestess, so don’t call her that.”

Ryder stared out into the wilderness, pulling his hand away, and I missed his warmth. I swore the guy had an internal heater because no matter what time of the year it was, his skin was on fire.

I hit the radio button, and tunes filled the void. The next two hours flew past, and soon enough we pulled into Roseline’s driveway. Ryder set down the packet of chips he’d been devouring since our last gas stop.

“You sure this is the right place?” He wiped his mouth. “Looks like an abandoned house out of a horror movie. Maybe call her first to make sure she’s home.”

“She doesn’t have a phone.”

Overgrown weeds and grass had swallowed the lawn. The front gate hung off a hinge while an enormous willow tree cast shadows over the property. Its branches swayed in the wind like lonely swings.

The building itself was quaint with a black roof and verandah encased by a wooden railing.

Roseline had always told me she kept the yard rundown to frighten away nosy neighbors. She didn’t need trespassers sticking their nose into her business. Some people installed security systems. Roseline focused on good old-fashioned scare tactics.

“It’s the right place.” From the back seat, I grabbed a bag full of wild dandelions. I’d seen growing at the side of the road on the way here and picked three bags worth. Roseline collected the greenery for her magic. And the stuff refused to grow where she lived. She used them for healing, usually served in tea. Besides, I always went by the motto of never going empty-handed to a witch’s home because a happy practitioner meant less chance of getting turned into a toad.

Ryder carried two more plastic bags for me, tufts of the weed sticking out of the tops.

The wooden steps to the porch creaked underneath our feet, and a bone chime crafted in the shape of a cat dangled from the railing, clanging.

Ryder eyed the bones suspiciously, sniffing the air. “Too old to tell if it was a real cat.”

Before I reached the door, it swung open of its own accord and a deliciously spicy aroma wafted out. Gumbo… Please let it be gumbo, as Roseline made the best I’ve ever tasted. I learned long ago that she knew in advance who’d visit, and if her door opened, then we were welcomed—if not, then we shouldn’t linger for long.

I entered a living room with Ryder on my heels. Light poured in from the windows, lighting up two couches that faced each other. A coffee table sat between them. Across from us stood a grand fireplace, not lit, with animals’ skulls, crystals, and feathers decorating the stone mantle.

We dropped our bags of grassy weeds near the couch. Dried bunches of herbs hung from the walls, giving the room a crowded feel, but somehow it worked with the whole busy ambiance.

Ryder ambled to the bookshelf and fingered the eye socket of a deer’s skull. Bones were everywhere—the window sill, the table, and even in the corners like guardians—compared to the few I’d seen last time I visited.

“Aye, I may have gone overboard with the decorations.” A scratchy woman’s voice came from behind me.

I jerked around. Roseline lingered in the doorway, hands on her hips. She wore a white apron over a yellow-and-green floral dress. Sweat gleamed across her tanned brow, and her hair stayed tucked underneath the red scarf wrapped over her head. She was as round as I remembered and her cheeks still glowed red.

“Roseline, it’s so wonderful to see ya again.” I closed the distance in four quick steps, and she dragged me into a bear hug, her scent of spices, earth, and perspiration greeting me. When I pulled back, she still clutched my wrists, holding me, her gaze studying me. The necklace hanging from her neck had a miniature bird skull pendant. A good luck charm to keep away the evil, she’d once told me.

“Girl, why’re ya so skinny? Told ya before to put meat on them bones. Men want something to hold on to at night.”

Ryder cleared his throat. “And daytime too. We men are complicated creatures like that.”

I rolled my eyes and turned as he leaned against the fireplace, hands in his pockets and doing his best to look natural. Except he stood out as a lion might when hiding amid antelope.

“Ya’ll make an old woman walk for a hug? Get over here, boy.” She waved him over.

Ryder strolled over and didn’t hesitate to embrace the woman. “Thanks for welcoming us into your home.”

“Ah, the boy has manners.” She broke from his hold and winked at me. “Before we talk business, we eat.” Roseline never worked her magic on an empty stomach she’d always tell me. Something about hunger pains distracting her concentration.

The kitchen was half the size of the living room but cozy. One side was a counter stacked with plates and pots, and on the opposite side awaited a table. Cutlery, glasses, and a bottle of cloudy rum were all set.

“Come, come, sit. Been cooking all morning. Made yar favorite dish, girl.”

“You’re always spoiling me.” I brought the potato salad to the table while Ryder carried bowls piled high with gumbo. My stomach growled with hunger, and by the time we sat, Ryder leaned closer.

He whispered, “Food’s safe to eat, right?”

“Ain’t nobody ever got sick from my cooking,” Roseline responded. “Now, do the honors with the drinks.”

Despite the stiffness in Ryder’s posture as he poured rum into three glasses, I couldn’t feel more relaxed.

“To welcomed company,” Roseline said, then she raised her glass.

“To heartwarming food,” I added, and we both stared at Ryder.

With glass lifted, he hesitated at first, then said, “To finding true love.”

Roseline chuckled loudly, her chins jiggling. “Boy, knew ya had a pure soul. Now let’s drink.”

Ryder arched a brow, and I adored that while he didn’t bless the dishes or guest, he revealed his own wish. I nudged him to down his rum.

Without a word, Roseline scooped four heaped spoonfuls of potato salad onto my gumbo, and she wasn’t kidding about fattening me. I dug in, the spicy chilli dish burning my mouth, but I couldn’t get enough. The spice didn’t bother Ryder, but then again he always ordered the hottest flavor wings from takeout.

“So, how’d you two meet?” he asked before stuffing more food into his mouth, then washing it down with rum.

“When Sephy came to my doorstep the first time for help with her magic, she reminded me of a drowned rat. Been storming, and she walked half a mile from the bus shelter. I fed and clothed her, and she spent a week with me.” She glanced my way. “Girl, ya now welcome here anytime, ya know?”

“Sure do, and I love how amazing you were when I was fifteen, lost and confused. Six years later, and you still spoil me. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

She nodded and ate her meal. There was only the clanging sound of spoons against plates until we finished, then Roseline climbed to her feet. She wiped her hands down her apron. “All right. Join me outside when ya both ready.”

I lounged back, my belly close to exploding while Ryder spooned more potato salad into his bowl and mixed it with the gravy from the gumbo.

“It’s good, hey?” I asked.

“Why haven’t you learned how to cook this dish?”

“Was about to ask you to make it for me.” I laughed, the calmness of the home caressing me, leaving me feeling like everything in the world was right. And I could sit here with Ryder for a month, eating, chatting, in each other’s company.

With a final scrape of his spoon across his plate, he finished his meal. “Damn, can’t remember the last time I ate so well. Anyway”—he lowered his voice—“you trust Roseline?”

“Hell, yeah. No doubts. She saw me at my lowest and never once took advantage, but helped me grow and harness my ability. But she’s a woman who does things by the clock.”

“Okay, that’s good enough for me.” He got up, and I trailed after him out the kitchen door in the kitchen and into a grassy yard, where the sun shone bright.

Roseline sat on a chair in front of a wooden table and we took the two seats across her. The candles around a plate of bones had been lit. Despite the light breeze, their golden flames burned upright in a straight line, no flickering, just a tiny wisp of smoke wafting upward.

Roseline had her eyes closed, and I didn’t need to tell her what I wanted. She’d speak with the spirits in her mind and tell me what was going on.

She handed me a folded piece of paper. “Payment before I begin.”

“Payment? We brought you grassy weed, will that do?” Ryder mumbled to himself, yet Roseline didn’t lift her attention from the plate of bones. I took that as a no.

I leaned back in my seat, unfolding the note. Three items were scribbled in one straight line. But as I read them, I took a deep breath and slid my hand over to Ryder’s.

“What’s going on?” He stared at me with innocent, wide eyes as I guided us off our seats and back into the house to the sitting room. We stood near the fireplace, and I pressed the note into his palm.

He scanned the message and a small growl rolled across his chest. “So this is the reason you invited me here?”

“Come on. You act like it’s a big deal.” I’d give the clothes off my back if it helped Ryder, so I didn’t see the issue here.

He huffed. “It is. I don’t give out my DNA willy-nilly to any witch I cross paths with. Who knows what she’ll do with it?” He gripped his hips like a petulant child.

“It’s three simple things. I know you hate the magic folk who always hound you, but I trust Roseline. And she won’t do this unless we pay her.”

The heat from his skin leaped across. I reached over and took his hand in mine. “Please, Ryder. No one needs to know about this. Our secret.”

He sighed louder, and his hardened expression softened as he studied me. “And to think, I went to your place to get help and look what you’ve got me doing now. And I still can’t go back to my house.”

Our fingers intertwined. “We’ll ask Roseline and sort it out. Until then, you can sleep on my couch?” I’d regret my decision, but right now the priority was determining what demonic fiend was after my soul.

He lifted my knuckles to his hand, and he kissed them.

“Okay. You ready?” I asked.

He nodded and started pulling off his T-shirt. Next, he unbuckled his belt while he toed off his boots. Shyness wasn’t his thing, and he’d strip in a shopping complex if needed, but I couldn’t pull my gaze off his rippling muscles, the way his pecs flexed with each small movement. Or the faint line of blond hair tapering down his eight-pack stomach. Sculptured like a god.

“If you keep staring at me that way, you’ll be losing your clothes in two seconds flat.”

My cheeks burned at getting caught, and I turned toward the bookshelf. “Okay. Just hurry.”

The knowing sound of a zipper doing down had me tempted to glance over my shoulder, but I didn’t. I had self-control.

“Just so you know,” he began, “no one should ever touch a lion’s mane. Now or ever. And take a strand or two off the back where no one will see.”

I rolled my eyes at his overreaction over a few hairs, but I didn’t say a word and scanned the cluttered shelf with everything but the kitchen sink. A silvery gleam caught my attention, and I grabbed the scissors.

A roar burst in my ears, and I jumped out of my skin at the sharpness of the sound.

Ryder stood in his majestic lion form. Massive and intimidating, he hopped up onto the couch, the muscles dancing beneath his coat. He lay across the sofa like a sphinx and his amber eyes locked on me.

Okay, get this done and hope I didn’t get mauled to death by the giant kitty cat.

Ryder’s attention followed me as I approached, each breath explosive and misty. Whenever he took his lion form, my brain told me he posed no danger, but my instincts were tighter than an elastic band. I expected him to pounce and rip my throat out as he’d do with a gazelle in the savannah. And I was the hopeless animal standing no chance against this king of the jungle. Though to be honest, I doubted Ryder had ever been to a real jungle and our local forest didn’t count. He’d been born in a suburban house… or more specifically, out the back in a shed. His mother had hidden from the cops searching for a lioness who couldn’t control her transformation after going into labor. Many shifters lived in the city, hiding, concealing their real forms. They kept their jobs, their friends, and had easy access to food. Underground clubs intended for shifters existed though hell knew where they were, as they changed locations every night to avoid being detected. If I were in charge of the world, I’d welcome everyone to live in harmony as one community. Having fucking equality shouldn’t be this difficult.

I refocused on Ryder. “Now, I’ll only take a small snippet of hair. Okay?”

He didn’t make a sound but watched me too carefully, and well, I was within striking distance of his knife-like claws. But he’d never attacked me before, and precedent insisted he wouldn’t now.

I sucked in a deep breath and reached over to the back of his golden mane. Gorgeous. I’d always wanted to hug him while in lion form, but he insisted controlling his lion wasn’t the easiest thing. The natural instincts lay there underneath, nudging him to be a freakin’ predator. So I bunched a handful of fur and snipped the bundle fast.

“Right, so now I need two claws cuttings.”

He grunted, and I didn’t know any cat that liked getting their nails clipped.

Ryder’s front paw scraped the edge of the sofa’s arm, his claws jutted out, each curled forward with a sharp tip. They dug into the fabric, the tearing sound leaving me cringing.

“Shit, this isn’t a scratching pole. Seriously. We could end up in a swamp if you destroy her couch.”

He grunted toward me, and I shook my head.

“Anyway, you should trim these weapons. Damn, you could decapitate someone with a single swipe.” I pictured myself in that very predicament because accidents happened to even the most well-planned individual.

With one hand pressed down onto his leg for balance, I placed the scissors next to the first nail and cut through.

Snap! The claw tip fell across near the fireplace as another enormous paw swatted me in the ass, and I leaped out of reach, rubbing my butt. No torn fabric or blood. Goddammit, that was close.

“Hey, watch where you fling those things.” I picked up the nail and marched back to Ryder. In two seconds flat, I cut the second nail without giving him a second to think about it.

“There, done. Wasn’t so bad, hey?”

Except he had his head lowered in attack mode. The hairs shifted down my arms. What did they say about never showing an animal fear?

So I squared my shoulders. “You better rein it in or I’ll get all circus trainer on your ass.”

Ryder released short, sharp growls.

The third requirement was the hardest thing to collect, so I put down my scissors, figuring I’d go in for the Band-Aid approach. So sauntering to the back of the sofa, I smiled, needing Ryder to soften so his instincts didn’t go cray-cray on me.

“Have I told you how much I adore lions? How massive and powerful they are. I read that lions have the loudest roar of all animals. You must be pretty proud.”

I scratched behind his ear. “Why do all cats loved to be stroked?”

His nose creased, and he huffed, his breath steaming in his face.

“Okay, okay. You’re a strong, king of the world lion. Better?”

He responded with a huff and lowered his chin onto his powerful paws.

“There’s a reason most people fear lions. You are majestic, dangerous, and…”

He raised his head for me to scratch him there, and I slid my hand down the side of his head. And just as his eyes half-closed, I snatched one of his whiskers and yanked it free.

Ryder jolted upright so fast, roaring as if someone had stolen his meal.

I recoiled, holding on to his long stupid whisker that might get me mauled.

He leaped over the couch, head low, haunches high.

My heart struck my ribcage, and a cold shiver gripped my spine. “Ryder, don’t do this.” I’d imagined myself dying many ways, but never attacked by a lion. Sweat drenched my skin, and screams rang in my ears. I could call out for Roseline, but then what if she hurt Ryder? Right, because him slashing me in half wasn’t reason enough to fight back.

The lion prowled nearer, waiting for the precise moment to strike.

I slid farther across the room until my bum hit the window. I tapped the windowsill for a weapon, anything. My fingers closed around what felt like a wooden twig, and I lifted it. Okay, the stick had to be at least two feet long, and I stared at it and then at the lion. Yep, my life had morphed into a circus, all right.

“You agreed to this.” I thrust the branch out between us and raised my voice. “Now stop being a dick and transform.”

But he growled, and I was ready to scream for help. How the freak did someone avoid a lion attack? I wanted to believe this was Ryder being an ass, but I kept remembering his words about the animal side sometimes taking over. Had I pushed my boundaries? My breaths raced, and I imagined myself between his jaws. A cry bubbled in my throat.

When he rushed toward me, I cried out and bolted past the fireplace.

But a great weight slammed into my back, sending me sprawling onto my stomach and knocking the breath out of me. A paw pressed down on my head, shoving my face into the rug that stunk of wood shavings and feet.

An electrical charge prickled over my skin all at once, and the weight on my back eased. When heavy laughter boomed, I bucked Ryder off me and climbed to my feet.

“You fucking bastard!”

He kneeled a few steps away, howling with joy. “You should have seen the look on your face. Priceless.”