He followed her into the house and up the creaky-ass stairs despite knowing that the witch grew a field of poisonous and toxic plants in her backyard—like it was normal. And how the fuck was he supposed to know if all witches had gardens like that? He didn’t know many witches, and he sure as hell wouldn’t ask the other two he knew whether they also kept a backyard full of dangerous shit. The fact that she happened to grow the same poisonous plant that had been used against him the first time added to that little spark of doubt in the back of his mind. Surely if she’d poisoned him, she would have kept him away from the garden. Or maybe not. Who knew how witches thought?

Evershaw studied Deirdre as she stood in the rather spartan room with shelves on the wall, a sink and long counter, and two long work tables. She made thoughtful little noises to herself as she read and flipped pages, periodically scratching a note onto a scrap of paper. He listened to the old house long enough to know that he could still track the sound of her breathing through the creaks and groans of the worn boards and drafty windows, and instead of lurking in the doorway over her shoulder, he wandered into the other room on that top floor.

He knew the moment he stepped across the threshold that it was her bedroom. It smelled like her, through and through, with that damn cat mixed in just as strongly. The wolf wanted to growl and pee in the corner so the little beast knew who had claimed that territory as his own, but Evershaw managed to resist the urge. That would have been a little hard to explain to Deirdre.

He breathed deep, picking up hints of perfume and soap and candles and grief. The furniture was painted white, though the paint peeled, and had the weathered look of belonging in an antique showroom or a historic farmhouse. The bedspread and pillows and even the walls were in pastels—bright and airy, springlike. Sunshine. It was all on the surface, though; underneath lingered something else. He sensed it as he moved through the room.

Very few personal effects decorated the room. There were a few framed photos on the dresser of Deirdre with an older woman who looked exactly like her, but otherwise nothing said the room was hers. If he hadn’t been able to smell her in the air, it could have been anyone’s room. It could have been a staged room from a furniture store or a magazine photo shoot. It made him uneasy that the witch could be so unmoored from her own life. She could have walked away from that room, from that house—or been made to disappear—and there would have been no sign that she’d ever really been there.

Maybe that was what whoever drugged her wanted—to make her disappear. To lift her out of that house and the neighborhood and the city as if she’d never been there. His lips peeled back in a snarl. Not on his watch. Not fucking ever.

But he could see how lonely she was just by standing in that room. Everything about it said “solitary.” And even though he understood perfectly well how much someone could enjoy being alone, since he enjoyed his own company almost above anyone else in the world, it still seemed like a hell of a waste. She’d isolated herself in that house, in that attic room above everything else, and locked everyone out with that witch-bitch face. He hated it. He hated even the thought of it. He hated that she’d wasted a second of her life being that kind of miserable.

The floorboards creaked and he turned to find Deirdre in the doorway, frowning as she looked at two books she held. “I think I’ll need—”

He took two giant steps toward her and caught her face, kissing her because he couldn’t stand not kissing her for another second. Deirdre made a surprised noise but didn’t back up and didn’t clap him over the head with those massive books. Instead, her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted and he could finally taste the sweet warmth of her mouth. He caught the backs of her thighs and hiked her up so her legs went around his waist, walking until he could press her against the undecorated wall, and he broke the kiss only long enough to say, “Don’t be sad.”

Deirdre started to ask him something else but he couldn’t wait. Evershaw needed to know she felt okay, that she wasn’t scared or sad or hurting. He sealed his mouth to hers and held her fragile body against his, listening to the flutter of her heart against her ribs and the thump of the blood in her veins. He needed her so much it frightened him. Especially since she could leave. As soon as the geas was severed, Deirdre could walk away and climb those creaky stairs to her little room in the attic and hide away forever.

She dropped the books and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as fiercely. He broke away so he could nip at her earlobe and throat, leaving hickeys all up and down her neck so no one would doubt she’d been claimed. Deirdre’s head fell back against the wall to give him better access. His cock hardened as he felt her move against him, the soft weight of her breasts crushed to his chest and her ass perfectly shaped to sit in his hands. He slid his fingers toward her core and she squirmed, rocking against him in invitation even with the layers of clothing between them. Evershaw groaned. Maybe she had bespelled him.

Deirdre panted as she ran her nails down the back of his neck. “What brought this on?”

He grunted and some of his sense came back. He couldn’t fuck her against the wall, and he didn’t want to scare her or make her feel bad about hitting the brakes later. Evershaw took a deep breath and told his wolf side to chill the fuck out, then kissed up and down her neck and shoulder and jaw until he was calm enough to speak in a normal voice. “I don’t like the idea of you up here all by yourself. You need to come home with me.”

“For a little while,” she said. Her eyes remained closed and her legs wrapped around him, even though it felt like a gulf opened between them. “But this is my house. I love this house.”

“It’s too old and creaky,” he muttered. “Sell it, make a bunch of money, and live with me. Stay with me. Move in with me.”

She went still, then untangled her legs and stood on her own. She planted two fingers in his chest and pushed him back, so Evershaw retreated. He wanted to bang his head against the wall when he saw her expression. Maybe knowing her a week was a little too soon to ask her to move in. Not that he knew what normal timelines were. They didn’t matter. She was his mate. She needed to live with him.

The witch’s head tilted. “What did you just say?”

“Move in with me,” he said. Evershaw didn’t think he’d stuttered. “Your cat is already clawing the shit out of my furniture, so you might as well stay. Bring the rest of your stuff. Redecorate so we can have furniture that doesn’t have holes in it.”

He was babbling. He knew it. The words kept pouring out of his mouth like a damn volcano spewing lava. And still Deirdre didn’t react. She didn’t smile or make fun of him. She didn’t even spit in fury and wheel around at the suggestion that she leave her den for his. She just stared at him.

Evershaw couldn’t look away. He needed her. Even if she had to plant a dangerous garden in the empty lot near the warehouse. He’d figure it out. Todd would laugh his ass off, but Evershaw didn’t care. He just needed Deirdre to agree, to move in with him, to make his room her room.

“I love this house,” she said slowly. “It’s all I have to remember my mom, my grandma, the rest of my family.”

His chest tightened as it sounded too much like she was winding up to deliver a no. “Then don’t sell it. Keep it. We’ll renovate it and make it so it doesn’t creak as much. Better security. But live with me. Stay with me.”

He didn’t like having to ask twice. Or trying to tell her twice. She should have jumped at the opportunity. Should have fallen back into his arms all dazed with lust and willingness.

Her gaze remained on his face, her whole expression a mystery, just as inscrutable as the first time he’d seen her in the cemetery with Smith. Deirdre took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall. “I’ll think about it.”

It was not the answer he wanted, but at least it wasn’t a no. He grumbled and gripped her waist, tugging her closer. “I can live with that for now. But fair warning, I’m going to change your mind.”

The corner of her mouth twitched and she didn’t resist his embrace. “You’re very confident.”

“I am,” he said. “Because I’m always right.”

Deirdre snorted and elbowed him aside so she could retrieve the books she’d dropped. “You’d best slow your roll, ace.”

Her fantastic ass presented itself as a target of opportunity, and he couldn’t resist—he gave her a good smack, loving the firm warmth of her cheek under his palm. The witch shot upright and whirled to stare at him as her entire face flushed red and her pupils dilated with just a hint of something...

He inhaled and couldn’t control a grin that slipped free. Just a hint of interest. More than a hint. Whatever she said, the witch seemed to enjoy being pressed up against the wall and getting spanked.

The witch’s rosy cheeks turned redder still. “What are you smiling about?”

“I know a secret,” he said. He ignored the way her lips parted in surprise and the quick intake of breath that only made him want to kiss her again, and instead shooed her out the door and toward the stairs. “But I’m not going to tell you what it is until we’re back home. Get moving.”

She eyed him warily but—miracle of fucking miracles—she wandered down the stairs to the first floor to retrieve a bag of dry cat food and one filled with cans of tuna and cat food and probably fucking caviar for how well she fed the beast. Evershaw glanced into the pantry and other cupboards, his lip curling in irritation. No food for herself, nothing fresh, just a garbage can with takeaway containers and frozen pizza boxes. He needed to feed her better.

Deirdre shoved the cat food at him, then abruptly dropped to the floor and stuck her arm under the sofa. He frowned at her, once more tempted by that fine ass in the air, but she moved fast enough he didn’t get the chance to spank the other cheek. The witch popped up, her hair flying, and stuffed a handful of furry bits and leather pieces and tails and things that rattled into the bag with the food. He fished around for what the hell she’d been storing under her couch, and found cat toys. At least a dozen. Mouse-shaped, bug-shaped, star-shaped... Covered in leather and rabbit fur and feathers.

He shook his head. “How many toys does that beast actually need? And why are they all under the couch?”

“He chases them under there and then can’t get them out,” she muttered, eyeing him sideways like she expected a joke or two.

Instead, Evershaw slid his free hand into her hair and hauled her over to him so he could kiss her again. He wanted her accustomed to him so she wouldn’t jump every time he touched her or moved around her. She found strength and poise in whatever trick gave her the witch-bitch face to wear, but without it, she startled as easily as a cute little fluffy rabbit breaking cover right in front of a wolf.

His lips lingered over hers so he could taste her breath and the way she panted, then he murmured, “Maybe get him a real mouse and it would run out from under the couch on its own.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said.

The witch looked a little dazed, her fingertips drifting over her mouth like she couldn’t believe the kiss ended, and Evershaw preened to think he’d made her wobbly on her feet. But it didn’t take long before he knew something else made her unsteady. Deirdre reached for his arm and he braced her, scooped her up, and shouted for Mercy and Todd to get their asses inside.

Deirdre, at least, looked a little irritated. “I’m not helpless. I just got a little dizzy. And I am perfectly capable of walking to the damn car.”

“Probably,” Evershaw said. “But I don’t trust you to listen to reason. You’d walk there even if you knew you’d fall on your face, just to spite me.”

Those jade green eyes narrowed as she scowled at him. “You’re on dangerous ground, wolf.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad.” And he kissed the tip of her nose to illustrate just how amusing he found her. “Mercy, get those books and the cat food into the car. Todd, do a sweep to make sure everything is unplugged and the lights are out, then lock up.”

Deirdre stuttered but he didn’t give her time to come up with her own instructions for his pack, then swept her out to the car. She reluctantly let Mercy take the books and then abruptly held onto his neck when Evershaw pretended to drop her, and the witch fixed him with a death glare that aaaaaalmost made him fear for the safety of his junk. At least she couldn’t hex him yet. He’d have to figure out how far he could push her as soon as that geas was gone.

The witch leaned around him to call after Mercy. “And the herbs. I need to get the canvas bag with—”

“Already in the car,” Henry said, ducking inside from the front porch to take the bags that Todd juggled. “Did you know your neighbors are selling their house?”

She frowned, carrying on a normal conversation despite that Evershaw carried her outside and toward the car, and absently rested her chin on his shoulder as she watched the other shifters roaming around her property. “They are? I thought the Westbrooks would stick around. They just finished remodeling their kitchen.”

Evershaw wanted to spin around and shout to the fucking world that the witch put her head on his shoulder and breathed against his skin, that she wasn’t wiggling around and trying to get away from him. He would have been content to walk all the way back to the warehouse with her in his arms, just so he could smell her hair and revel in the warmth of her curves pressed against him.

Mercy bounded past him to load the rest of the stuff into the SUV, then opened the rear door so Evershaw could slide Deirdre right onto the seat. She immediately started to stand up, craning her neck to ask Henry something, but Evershaw nudged her back into the car. “We can talk more inside. I don’t want to hang around here too long.”

The witch gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Watch the bossiness. Just because I let you kiss me doesn’t mean I’ll let you tell me what to do.”

The spark in her eyes made his insides twist and sent a surge of lust straight to his cock. He’d tell her what to do all right, as soon as he could get her in bed, and from the way she’d jumped when he smacked her ass, he was pretty sure she’d enjoy it. He loved the challenge, the promise that he’d have to work for it. He’d have to earn her, to earn every moment with her. Even if it meant curling up on the couch to watch shitty movies all afternoon.

Evershaw caught her face in his hands and dragged her lips close enough he could brush his mouth against hers and murmur, “We’ll see about that.”

Her whole face went bright red and Evershaw couldn’t contain a slow smile that dragged across his face. He definitely had a plan for her.