There were some noises from inside, then the sound of the front door closing and an engine—it sounded like a big one—starting. Looking around the side of the house, Jo saw a big wrecker truck drive by. On it was the slogan, FOX’S AUTO BODY: YOU BROKE IT, WE FIX IT! Reese was inside and he drove the huge vehicle with easy confidence, one hand on the wheel and the other arm on the open window.

After he disappeared Jo sat back on the porch steps and looked at the back door. Should she go in? And more to the point, should she stay?

She supposed she could just use the restroom, grab a glass of water, and continue her journey—there was nothing holding her here. But where would she go? It wasn’t like she had a destination in mind other than away from Avalon. And strangely, she wanted to stay.

“I’ll just go in and look around,” she muttered, daring to climb the creaky back porch steps. “See what it’s like inside.” Collecting her backpack and holding her athame out in front of her just in case, she pushed her way past the screen door and entered the house.

She got the impression that Reese lived alone so she was expecting a bachelor clutter. Instead, she was pleasantly surprised to see that the big Shifter was apparently a guy who knew how to clean up after himself.

The back door led into a large and well-appointed, if somewhat old-fashioned, kitchen. It was white with sunny yellow trim, a gas stove, and a big old refrigerator that hummed quietly to itself in a corner. Faded white and yellow checked curtains hung in the window, which showed a good view of the backyard and the forest beyond it.

A grandma kitchen, Jo thought. She could almost imagine a nice little old lady with gray hair baking batches of chocolate chip cookies and snickerdoodles by the dozen. But when she tried to picture the scene, she saw herself instead, standing over the gas stove and stirring a pot of her famous vegetable stew.

Jo frowned. That was ridiculous—she was here as a guest, not to get comfy enough to take over the kitchen and cook. Although she supposed she might offer to make Reese dinner one night as a kind of payment for staying in his home. That would be nice.

She walked through the kitchen and out into the living area, which was filled with faded but clean furniture in a floral pattern that must have been picked by Reese’s mother or some other female relative. She wondered if he’d inherited the house and just left everything as it was. After all, the floral print love seat and couch still looked comfortable and serviceable—if it isn’t broke, why fix it?

There was a den with some sports posters framed on the wall but the TV was an old box model, not the flat screen Jo would have expected. Across from it was a big, comfortable looking leather chair and a reading lamp on a little table. The walls were lined with bookshelves and the books didn’t look purely ornamental either—their creased covers and battered edges showed they’d been read. There were war histories, biographies, mysteries, thrillers—a thoroughly masculine selection, Jo thought. There was also an e-reader lying on the little table under the lamp. Hmm . . . if Reese really read this much it might explain the blue band of intellect she’d seen in his aura.

Jo was intrigued but she was also in dire need of the restroom. She cut her exploration of the big house short and headed upstairs, looking for a bathroom.

The upstairs was a long hallway lined with doors. After peering into several guest rooms, Jo finally turned the right knob and was rewarded by the sight of a toilet facing a big, old fashioned claw-foot tub. Finally!

Stepping inside, she stowed her athame in her pack and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. After taking care of business, she sighed in relief and her eyes wandered back to the bathtub. How long had it been since she’d had a bath? Ages and ages—it felt like forever.

Looking down at herself, she saw with distaste that the ashes of the white ash tree were still smeared thickly across her pale skin. That had been necessary out in the forest to throw the Skin Walkers—no, Dire Wolf Shifters, she reminded herself—off her scent. But if she was going to stay with Reese, she didn’t need to be grimy and coated in ashes anymore. Plus, she really needed to wash the cut on her arm from where her athame had slipped.

The clock on the wall said a quarter to three. Reese had said he wouldn’t be home until between five and six, which left her plenty of time to take a bath and prepare to cast the binding.

Jo filled the tub, watching the steam rise with anticipation. Oh, the hot water was going to feel so good on her aching muscles! She even found some Epsom salts to pour into the tub. It wasn’t scented bath oil or bubble bath but it would do and hopefully the salt in the water would help scrub away the stubborn gray ashes that stained her skin.

As she waited for the huge tub to fill, Jo wandered towards to the mirror over the bathroom sink. She hadn’t looked at her reflection in ages and she expected to see a woman with dirt-smeared cheeks and weary circles under her eyes.

What she saw instead shocked and surprised her. There certainly was dirt smeared on her face and her eyes looked weary but . . . it wasn’t her—wasn’t Jo. Or at least, not the Jo she was used to seeing.

With a gasp, she drew away from the mirror, her hands going involuntarily to her face. Where was she? Where was the woman she had become?

Staring at her from out of the glass was her younger self—the girl she’d been twenty years ago. The thick streak of silver that had been in her hair for the past ten years, which had started fading in Avalon, was now completely gone. The crow’s-feet around the corners of her eyes had been smoothed away and the curving lines around her lips had been erased.

Pulling her dress off, she saw that her body was similarly changed. Her breasts, which had begun to sag, were now high and tight, and her ass was firm and round again. The varicose veins that had started around her ankles had magically disappeared and there wasn’t a trace of cellulite on her anywhere. She had thought her body felt somewhat different during her travels through the woods but there never seemed to be a good time to stop and really examine herself. Now she could see how much she’d changed and it scared her.

“What happened to me?” she whispered, looking down at herself. “How can this be? What’s going on? Is this what the Elders were talking about when they kicked me out?”

She looked at her face again, at the flame-red hair without a single silver strand, the pale, dirty cheeks and big amber eyes. She looked exactly as she had during that awful time—the time she’d tried so hard to forget. It was as though her body was going backwards, trying to force her to remember the past trauma, the awful attack she’d thought she would never get over . . .

No—don’t think like that. Don’t dwell on it, she told herself, trying to be calm. You worked through it years ago with Miranda. Don’t dredge it all up again now.

It was easier advice to give than to take but before she could dwell on it longer, she saw that the claw-foot bathtub was about to overflow. Quickly, she ran to shut off the taps and drained a little of the steaming water before she climbed in and sank down, trying to make peace with her young, new body.

She spent a long time soaping and scrubbing herself, finally managing to get all of the gray ashes off her skin. The cut on her arm stung from the salt in the water, but it was just a shallow scratch and Jo was sure it would heal quickly. It felt good to be clean again and good to get reacquainted with her body—despite the way it had changed.

But the question was, how had it changed? When the Elders had kicked her out of Avalon, they’d accused her of working Dark Magic. Though Jo knew perfectly well she had done nothing of the kind, now she wondered if maybe someone—some malignant other—had worked some on her.

She thought of the shadow creature and shivered. Could that entity—the one she’d been trying so desperately to escape—have something to do with her drastic change? Had it been planning to get her kicked out of Avalon so that it could have its dark way with her?

Also, did her sudden youthening—Jo couldn’t think of a better name for it—have anything to do with the awful pain she’d had on the night of the full moon? Or the throbbing between her legs? Or the dull headache that had settled in her temples and wouldn’t go away, no matter what she did? She’d gotten so used to living with these constant pains they became almost normal, but with her suddenly much younger body she realized she ought to be feeling much better than she was.

Although actually . . . she frowned. The headache was gone—at least for now. When had that happened? She didn’t know, but it was nice not to have the dull pounding in her temples for once.

Jo washed her hair and then sat and soaked and pondered, occasionally adding hot water until she glanced at the clock and realized it was almost a quarter to five. Crap! How had it gotten so late? She had to hurry now, to get everything in order for the binding before Reese came home.

She got out of the tub and dried herself with a big, puffy yellow towel that felt good against her sensitive skin. I’ve been roughing it so long I’d forgotten about little creature comforts like hot baths and soft towels, Jo thought. Having access to them again, as well as having a full belly, was a luxury.

She felt a flash of gratitude towards her host and then told herself to be careful. Especially now that she was young again, maybe Reese was only after her body. She needed to be certain he couldn’t touch her, just in case.

But his aura was pure, whispered a voice in her head. And the house has nothing but good echoes. And what about his Fox?

Jo couldn’t help the rush of good feelings she got when she thought of the soft, furry little creature Reese turned into. The way he had nuzzled her neck and curled up in her lap . . . the way he danced around begging for french-fries—really, it was impossible not to be won over by the adorable little animal.

Maybe that’s what he wants, though, whispered the voice of caution in her head. Maybe he’s just trying to lure you and get you off guard so he can—

Jo pushed the thought abruptly away. So far, Reese seemed like a decent guy. He agreed to the binding spell, so she ought to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Speaking of the binding spell, she had to get dressed and go outside to start casting the circle. She took off the puffy towel and hung it over the shower curtain to dry. But her black sundress was tattered and dirty—she couldn’t bear to put it back on over her freshly washed skin. She’d brought very few other clothes with her but a look in her pack showed they were all in pretty much the same state as the dress. Dirty, ragged, smelly . . . and since she’d taken so long in the bathtub, there was no time to wash them.

There was a man’s button-down, dark blue dress shirt hanging from a hook on the back of the bathroom door. Jo hesitated . . . then put it on. It fell to mid-thigh on her and she had to roll up the much too long sleeves. She hoped Reese wouldn’t be upset with her but she could always promise to wash the shirt later, after her own ragged clothes had taken a trip through the washing machine. And he had told her to make herself at home.

Jo looked in the mirror, startled all over again at the young face staring back. The shirt looked good with her eyes and her freshly washed hair hung down her back, long and damp and, because it was wet, looking more dark auburn than her usual pale red. She was . . . pretty.

How long had it been since she’d thought of herself in those terms? Since before the attack in the park so many years ago, she thought. After that, she’d blamed her looks for what had happened to her and had wanted nothing more to do with dressing up or fixing her hair or anything that related to making herself attractive to the opposite sex.

She wondered if it would ever be possible to reclaim that part of herself—the part that liked feeling pretty and desirable. Could she ever . . . Her eyes wandered up to the clock and she saw it was getting late.

“Stop it, Jo, you’re wasting time,” she muttered to herself.

Gathering her things and making sure the bathtub was clean, she went back downstairs and out into the backyard. The sun was much lower in the sky now, almost setting, and there was a chilly light wind whispering through the pines and maples behind the house. Jo sat on the creaky back porch steps and dug in her pack once more, looking for everything else she needed.

Out of the pack she took a baggie of sea salt, four candles of various colors, her athame, a metal chalice, a small bottle of red chrism oil, and Miranda’s book of shadows.

Of course, Jo had her own book—but at the time of Miranda’s death, her mentor had been a witch for at least thirty more years than Jo had. Her book was probably the most complete one Jo had ever seen—excluding the Great Book that stood on the cedar stand in the room of wisdom back in Avalon.

Of course, a protection or warding spell would probably work the best to keep Reese away from her—unfortunately it would work too well. It would force him to stay at least one hundred yards away from her at all times—kind of like a magical restraining order. That would be awkward if she was staying in the same house with him and also, Jo felt it would be rude. Kind of like saying she didn’t trust him any further than she could throw him. No, the binding spell was definitely a better option.

Thumbing carefully through the book with its cracked leather binding, she came to the spell she wanted—the binding of male to female. Of course, she wanted to bind Reese away from her—to stop him from touching her—but the spell would work for that as well—she only needed to reverse some of the wording. But . . . Jo frowned as she read over the instructions for how to work the magic.

“Crap,” she muttered. “I can’t believe this! Seriously?”

“Hi,” a deep male voice said from behind her. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh!” Jo gasped and turned around, her athame gripped tightly in one fist.

Reese was standing there, wearing jeans and a light blue t-shirt. He put up both hands in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I just—” He stopped abruptly, his entire big body stiffening like a hound on point. His eyes went wide and his nostrils flared, as though he was catching some strange scent on the evening breeze.

“Reese?” She kept a tight grip on her athame and tucked the book of shadows under her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I . . . did you . . . did you take a . . . a bath?” he asked at last in a strangled voice.

“Well . . . yes.” Jo wondered if he was angry. “You told me to make myself at home and I hadn’t had a chance to get clean in two weeks. I’m sorry about your shirt,” she added hastily, plucking at the dark blue fabric with the hand not holding the athame. “But all my clothes are dirty. I promise I’ll wash it and iron it and—”

“No . . . no, it’s okay.” Reese gave a forced-sounding laugh and took a step back from her. “Keep the shirt—it’s fine, really.”

“Are you sure?” Jo raised her eyebrows at him.

“Sure I’m sure.” He cleared his throat. “I’m, um, glad to see you’re getting comfortable.”

“I appreciate that,” Jo said sincerely. “I was, uh, just about to call the circle.”

“Call . . . call the circle?”

“It’s the start of most Wiccan spells,” Jo explained.

“Okay. Um . . .” He coughed. “Excuse me. I need glass of water before we, uh, get started.”

“Sure.” Jo nodded. “And while you’re in there, I need some wine. Do you have any?”

“Wine?” He frowned. “Not much of a wine drinker myself—beer is more my style. But I might have some. Let me go see.” And he fled into the house, almost stumbling in his haste to get through the backdoor into the kitchen.

Jo frowned as she watched him go. What had that been all about? He’d seemed perfectly fine when he first walked up behind her and then he had become . . . flustered somehow. But why?

She didn’t know and anyway, she was more concerned with getting this spell right. Looking at Miranda’s Book of Shadows again, she frowned.

This was going to be more complicated than she’d thought.

* * *

Reese nearly ran in the kitchen and grabbed the edge of the countertop with both hands, squeezing so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Her scent! Oh God, her scent!

Now he understood what his Fox found so damn attractive about the little red-haired witch. She was a Juvie—a Rejuvenated female.

A woman could be born with the Shifter Gene, but it would be dormant all her life as long as she had a man who claimed her and made love to her regularly. But once she reached her forties or fifties, the age of Rejuvenation, if she had no mate or if her mate had neglected her sexually for at least six months, the hormonal changes would start.

Her body would return to the physical state she’d been in during her early twenties and a state of hyper-fertility would be induced. And since Lady Moon wanted to ensure that there were always more Shifter babies to continue the race she had created, the newly Rejuvenated female would start emitting a Juvie scent that was like pure sex—a siren call to any male Shifter in her immediate vicinity to mate and breed her.

That was the scent that Jo was putting out right now—Reese couldn’t understand how he’d missed it earlier. Maybe it had to do with the strange, gray dust she’d smeared all over her skin—it had acted as some kind of camouflage and masked her Juvie scent. But the gray dust was gone now and Jo smelled like a female in heat, ripe and ready to be mated and bred. Ready to be claimed by an Alpha who wanted to fill her belly with his babies.

Get a grip on yourself. Reese told himself angrily. He looked down at the hard bulge in his jeans—his cock was standing at attention and throbbing with need. You have to get control. You can’t go out there like this—you’ll freak her out and scare her off!

He also couldn’t tell her what she was—not yet, anyway. It was clear to him that Jo had no idea she had the Shifter Gene. Hell, she hadn’t even known what Shifters were—she’d thought they were Skin Walkers before he’d told her otherwise. And right now, when she was about to cast the spell, was not the time to start laying out revelations. Especially when the revelation was, ‘Hey, did you know you’re a Shifter female and you’re going to need sex from a Shifter male really soon and oh, hey look—I just happen to be a Shifter male, how can I be of service?’

Reese winced. That made him sound like an opportunistic bastard. No, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell her.

Just get through this, he told himself. Get through tonight and tomorrow you can ask her to go see Fiona with you, like Keller suggested. Fiona can explain everything.

It was a good plan—much better than the one his Fox suggested, which was that they go and claim their mate this very instant.

We have to take it easy, he told his other half. She’s been hurt before—we can’t scare her off.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened up and began hunting in the cabinets for the bottle of wine Jo had asked for. Everything would be all right—he would keep his distance, keep his hands to himself, and try to hold his breath when the wind was blowing her scent in his direction. They would get a good night’s sleep in separate rooms and tomorrow he would take Jo straight to Fiona.

Everything was going to be fine, just perfectly fine . . . he hoped.