Wishful thinking had me peeking out a window, thinking I sensed Alistair nearby.

Stupid. I mean, how would I know if Alistair were stalking me? He’d better not be. I was mad at him. Giving me orders as if he had a right to tell me what to do.

I stroked Whiskers, my little furball left at my parents’ house for safekeeping lest a demon try and steal him again. He purred happily in my arms.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t as content.

Don’t go to the ball indeed. I had to go. Something was afoot. Something more than just the demons.

Secrets. I smelled secrets.

Starting with Alistair. Was he a good guy or a bad guy? What if, by not turning him in, and trusting him—also known as lusting after him—unwittingly brought about the demise of humanity?

Please don’t let me be that blurb in the annals of history that said, Stupid girl, let her hormones get in the way of common sense. Because she didn’t stop him, his evil plan succeeded.

Yet, I didn’t get a sense of evil from Alistair. That wasn’t to say he was chivalrous hero material. Far from it. He possessed a ruthless core, and I wouldn’t want to be the idiot who got in his way or said no.

Which was why I found myself surprised—and fairly disappointed—when he didn’t come after me at my parents’ place. Sure, it was a wee bit difficult to get in—Mom had a thing for magical booby traps, and Dad loved his gadgets—but what was a little security? He was a Grande Mago, after all.

Alas, I slept undisturbed. The alarms remained untripped. It seemed he wasn’t crazy enough to take on my entire family for the sake of one woman.

Alistair also didn’t contact me at all the following day.

Not once. He didn’t even attempt to reiterate his ridiculous order to stay home from the ball.

Not even to say, “Hey, Willow, how are you doing?”

Not. One. Word.

Asshole.

Who cared about Alistair Fitzroy anyhow? I was Willow Johnson, High Priestess for the Glas Cailleach Coven. I didn’t need a man, or wizard, telling me what to do.

So I dressed for the ball. I wasn’t about to miss it.

The food is too good to pass up. Apart from excellent noshing, a part of me had a feeling something would happen. Something big. Why else would he warn me away?

I didn’t care if he thought it would keep me safe. For all I knew, he wanted all the glory for himself. Or perhaps he was swinging for the wrong team and worried I’d stop him in his tracks.

Whatever the reason, I would be present and a part of what happened tonight.

I didn’t have a super broom to bring me or even a converted pumpkin. My car was recovering—apparently, not happy about the abuse I’d recently put it through—at Dad’s old garage where I got a very big glare from my father and a grumbled, “What have you done now?”

I’d gone and done a wizard and now was going to poke him by showing up at the ball. My version of a raised middle finger. Tell me what to do indeed.

Ha. I’d show him.

Ever notice that when you need to dress for a bit of in-your-face revenge, you always looked amazing? I came across as all kinds of awesome in my curve-hugging, eye-popping, purple gown.

I’d even worn sexy underpants. The diamond barrette—courtesy of my dollar store—pinned only the hair at the top of my head. The rest fell over my shoulders and slithered like fiery silk when I moved.

My jeweled wand—my going-out wand as I had laughingly nicknamed it—was tucked in the waist-enhancing sash at my side. For the moment, I was keeping up appearances.

When I strutted in, the high slit in the dress showed off some leg and my startling high heels. I would admit to using a big of magic to keep my balance. One twisted ankle as a teen was enough to prove gravity would always win.

Unlike other guests who arrived—the flying horses pulling a chariot, the aquadome that rolled out of the stretch Hummer and took the mer couple inside—I didn’t get a trumpeting announcement.

The doorman—a hulking eight-foot orc who’d actually bathed—took one look at me and snorted. “No humans allowed.”

“High Priestess for the Glas Cailleach Coven.”

“Human.” Even the monsters had disdain for my kind. But I didn’t let that bother me, not when I drew gazes the moment I walked into the room.

It might have been the dress. It was anything but subtle. However, it was more likely because I’d chosen to have magic wash around me in a warm, floral-scented breeze, lifting my hair, making anyone who took a deep breath close by suddenly think I was the most awesome thing since they’d learned to deep fry ice cream.

The lusting spell wouldn’t last long, but I enjoyed casting it because…look, everybody.

No hands.

Indeed, my wand stayed tucked. I didn’t move my hands or lips at all, yet no one could deny a cloud of magic followed me.

I could see the puzzled glances as the wizards tried to figure out the trick. Other species were more subtle. I could see their unfocussed gazes as they peered with their othersight. Checking out my aura, which I usually kept tightly wound. Not tonight. Tonight, it shone the same color as my dress. A color none of them had seen before.

A part of me smirked and was tempted to throw out my arms and say, I’m a sorceress. Welcome to my coming-out ball.

However, I doubted I’d get a chance to say a word given the thundercloud that moved my way.

Alistair, dressed to the nines in a tuxedo and wearing a mighty scowl, descended on me.

“You,” he said when he got close enough.

“Yes, it’s me.” I batted my thick lashes, spiderweb-woven extensions for the special occasion.

“What happened to staying home?”

“You’re not the boss of me,” I retorted. Not real mature, but all the other arguments I’d prepared fled when I faced him. He smells damned good, too.

“I prefer to think of it more as cooperating since we are partners.”

“Partners check in on each other.”

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

I tossed my hair. “Not one bit.”

“Liar.”

“Priceless coming from you. Fitzroy.” I emphasized his false name.

His lips twitched. “I see you went with subtlety tonight.” His gaze roved my frame, and it took an effort not to cock my hip a little more and thrust out my chest.

“Screw subtlety. You’re just mad that the lowly witch did not listen to the big, bad wizard,” I taunted.

“I’m angry because you look fucking fantastic and every male in here has noticed you.”

As I expected a chiding or tongue-lashing, the words had me blinking and replying with a very scathing, “What?”

“You are an absolute goddess in that gown. Do you have any idea how many males in this room want you?”

“Uh, none.” Seriously, I doubted any of the snobs present were lusting after a human witch.

Alistair thought differently. “They need to realize you’re not available.”

“But I am. Single, that is.”

“No, you’re not,” he growled. “You’re mine.”

The possessive words wrapped me in heat. My knees trembled. I know my girly parts swooned into a puddle.

Shocked by his claim, I wasn’t prepared for him to grab me in his arms and kiss me.

In public.

Things got kind of quiet around us. Even the music slowed.

I kissed him back and ignored the whispers. When a man kissed you in front of an audience, it meant something.

At least, to me it did.

When he finally let me up for air, he smiled, his gaze smoldering with lust, my panties probably ash from the heat.

“I’m confused. First, you’re peeved to see me. Then, you’re happy.” Because that wasn’t a revolver in his pocket. “I don’t get it.”

A devilish light danced in his eyes. “I knew you’d come to the ball if I said you couldn’t.”

“But I was already planning to come.”

“Would you have come with me if I’d asked to be your date?”

Yes. No. Maybe. “The politics…”

“Don’t mean squat to me.” Alistair shrugged. “My way, you arrived full of confidence and fire. Tonight you’re not just Willow the coven witch. You’re Willow, a woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone.”

A woman who let her annoyance show an entire room she could do magic. My mouth rounded. “You played me.”

He leaned close and brushed the words across my lips. “No, I encouraged you to be who you are.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. But you can be mad if you’d like. You’re hot when you’re angry.”

“You’ll be hot once I set fire to your pants.” Said without as much vehemence as he deserved. Hello, the guy had just paid me a compliment.

“You always set fire to my pants,” he replied with a chuckle.

“You’re a wicked man, Alistair Fitzroy.”

“I know.” He took a step back and held out his hand. “Shall we dance?”

There was only one reply to that.

I slid my hand into his, and he swept me away.

We danced. And danced.

Alistair whirled me around and around. Swooping. Dipping. Quick stepping. I laughed, and he allowed himself a fierce smile—and a possessive scowl when a few male guests came too close.

A wizard with jealousy issues. I didn’t think my panties could get any wetter.

Involved in a fairytale-ish evening, I forgot all about the demons, and my responsibilities. I didn’t gab with any of the heads of other groups—although I did offer a few smiles and head bobs. To my surprise, many of them returned it. But I didn’t stop to schmooze with anyone at all.

All my attention was focused on Alistair. The wizard/prince making this girl’s fantasies come true.

Reading and seeing perfect romantic moments in books and movies didn’t prepare you for the breathtaking, giddy happiness of it. Being the focus of a man that you’re falling for, flirted with, and catered to was a heady sensation.

I bloomed under his admiration, relaxed, and didn’t hold back. I laughed. Smiled. Teased him right back. My body flushed every time he drew me close. My heart pattered faster whenever he dropped a kiss on my lips.

He didn’t hide his interest in me.

Everyone noticed. Let them stare at the wizard and the witch cutting up the dance floor, two people on a date where the rest of the world took a backseat.

When I finally begged for a break, because I had a gerbil-sized bladder screaming to go, I walked on a cloud. I was having my princess moment and couldn’t wait to get back to Alistair.

It took only moments to relieve myself and wash my hands. I hummed happily as I saw myself in the mirror, eyes bright, smile wide.

I looked so happy.

Like a woman in love.

Er, what?

No point in denying it. I loved Alistair.

And I was beginning to think he loved me.

Stunned by my revelation, I walked out of the bathroom oblivious to everything—which was probably why I didn’t see whatever hit me on the back of the head.