After picking up Ivory’s business mail at the post office, Seth decided to take the scenic route through the woodlands that skirted the whole town and edged Ivory’s property. He had already opened all the mail, finding only bills and catalogues. Nothing from their new mystery man. There had been no more contact since the lewd photos and removal of the cameras but Ivory had taken a few days off work anyway. She had been more shaken than she had let on – and so had he. The thought of some sick fuck invading her privacy that way and making her feel unsafe and uncomfortable in her own home made him wish he could hunt the fucker down and gut him with his dew claw.
Ivory had been a little more subdued at first when she and Ronan had walked back in the morning of the big revelations. She had been somewhat fidgety and uncomfortable – shy almost. It didn’t help that she was a little drunk either. But at least she hadn’t pulled away from them. The four of them had spent the last three days talking so much that even he had a sore throat. They had discussed all things witch and familiar, answering Ivory’s relentless questions and asking their own. Not that he could blame her. Her mother had done the best she could, given her own parents had died when she was so young. But her knowledge base was severely limited. Not that Ivory’s magical abilities appeared to be diminished by her ignorance and lack of a mentor. The woman was wicked strong.
She seemed to be taking the whole familiar thing in stride, thankfully. Not that he was all that surprised. The connection between a witch and their familiar was organic, as natural as breathing. So she wasn’t finding it too difficult to adjust to having them around and knowing them in that capacity. The mate thing on the other hand? Well, that was a different story. She still had reservations about their panthers wanting to claim her as their life-mate. She claimed she could accept the insane attraction they all had to each other as a chemical reaction, but that it wasn’t enough for her. She wanted them to get to know the real her more before anything further happened.
He was trying very hard not to get frustrated with her. He knew he didn’t just want her because his cat’s pheromones demanded it. The night spent in her arms had been one of the best of his life. And the fact that he had been able to share it with the men he loved had made it even more special. But he wasn’t falling for what she could offer them between the sheets. He was falling for the stubborn, feisty, generous, funny, brave woman. He could only hope she was falling for them in the same way. And given she had promptly called for a moratorium on all things sex, they’d had nothing but time to connect on a more mental and emotional level, anyway.
The look of devastation on Vaughn’s face when Ivory had primly told them they would not be sharing her magnificent round bed with her had been almost comical. But after three days of being in Ivory’s presence with her natural white hair, exotic purple eyes, and inhaling her scent, really killed his amusement. He was walking around with a constant hard-on and he was afraid his balls would be a permanent blue colour. To make matters worse, he wasn’t even getting any relief from his men. They had stupidly decided that they would all wait for Ivory to feel comfortable before being together again. It had been Ronan’s idea – the annoyingly mature bastard – and had seemed like the noble thing to do at the time. But now … now he wasn’t feeling so noble.
A loud ding from his phone was a welcome distraction from the state of his neglected dick and he fished it out of his pocket. That ding was the notification sound for his emails. He had gotten in contact with a fellow familiar and friend who worked for one of the founding covens. Spencer had access to all information of historical significance and Seth had asked him to discreetly investigate Dale and Maree. Had there been any mention of them being more than casual lovers in the history books? Any suspicion that Dale had faked his own death? Had there been any indication that the conclave knew Maree was pregnant and had indeed threatened them? And most importantly, was there any mention of Ivory anywhere?
When Ronan had suggested they make some gentle enquiries, Ivory had freaked out on them again. Her aversion to the conclave was deeply ingrained and they had almost caved and abided by her wishes to make no attempt to investigate. After all, as familiars they were bound to do what their witch wanted in all things. But Seth had persevered, assuring her he would be discreet and only contact someone he trusted. His gut was telling him there was something going on – some kind of connection. And he always trusted his gut. It had led him to Ronan and Vaughn, and now Ivory. As far as he was concerned, that was a pretty good track record.
The feeling had been cemented when Ivory had admitted she’d felt like she was being followed five years ago and that’s why she had decided to move on and build a new life for herself here in Hadleigh. Seth could have shaken her when he heard that. Why hadn’t she mentioned it before? Oh, he knew she believed then and now were two unrelated things – that her stalker was just some random, infatuated, crazy arsehole. And that was most likely the case, especially when she tried to appease him by saying the watcher from her past hadn’t felt malicious. It had just been enough to make her feel uncomfortable and that she had been discovered and it was time to move on and make a new face. But Seth’s gut wasn’t convinced.
He tapped his little inbox icon and read the contents of the email from Spencer. His gut clenched unhappily now – sometimes he hated being right. There was evidence that a witch marshal had been sent out five years ago to Arland – the city Ivory had been living in – to investigate rumours of a rogue witch. The marshals were witches who acted like the police of their society. They made sure their laws were upheld, criminals were incarcerated, and that witch hunters were dealt with swiftly. They were also responsible for making sure no rogue witches were roaming unchecked in the world and putting their hidden society in danger.
The marshal who had been in charge of investigating whether or not there was a real witch in Arland, had reported no evidence of one. His official report to the conclave had stated Ivory was a mere wiccan with no magical powers at all. The conclave had clearly taken him at his word because there had been no further investigations into a rogue witch in five years. But six months ago, the conclave had enlisted the exact same marshal to look into the small town of Hadleigh. A witch passing through the town had spotted an authentic cauldron in a pub coincidentally called the Hex Bar and had reported it. As Vaughn would say; coincidences were fucking suspicious. But what confirmed it for Seth was Spencer’s last sentence;
‘No evidence of a witch – rogue or otherwise – in the township of Hadleigh.’
The exact same marshal had falsified the report once again. There was definitely a witch in Hadleigh. He was speed dialling Ronan when a twig snapping behind him had him spinning around and reaching for the gun in the waistband of his pants. But before he could even close his hand over the butt of the gun, a crushing blow to his head had him landing on all fours and literally seeing stars. A second whack, this time to his temple, had blackness clouding his vision in seconds.
Dammit! I really hate being right all the time.