The horses’ restless ire blasted Aisha the second she turned her truck onto Colewright land. Victoria was there too, her magic burning even stronger than the horses’ annoyance. For a moment, Aisha felt like a misbehaving teenager sneaking home after lying to her mom.

Except Charlotte never had this effect on her. Only Victoria could make her feel like a misbehaving fool.

She shook the uncomfortable, guilty feeling aside fast. If her grandmother was here in the flesh—and she’d bet her last saddle blanket she was—why the fuck hadn’t she calmed the horses? That should get top billing.

Aisha had grown up hearing how the horses always came first. Apparently, Victoria had decided the edict no longer applied to her.

She slowed the truck, toying with flipping a U and blasting out of the driveway. She’d never asked to be burdened with the Colewright legacy. Never signed on for being the Colewright witch glued to the land whether she wished it or not.

“I’m only as stuck as I want to be,” she ground out.

The words were a revelation. Before tonight, the thought she might have options had never occurred to her. It made no sense. How could she live thirty plus years and not recognize she didn’t have to do things just like every other Colewright witch who’d walked before?

She blinked as the world rearranged itself.

Victoria might poke holes in her newfound composure, but Aisha didn’t think she’d be able to. She nosed the truck forward determined to get the worst of whatever faced her out of the way before Liam showed up.

Victoria wasn’t his grandmother. She had no right censuring him, but that wouldn’t stop her.

“She has no right condemning me, either.” Aisha was still talking out loud. “Maybe when I was a kid, but I haven’t been a kid for a long time.”

The last few hundred yards of pot-holed driveway flashed beneath her tires. She’d barely pulled the truck to a stop and jumped down from the cab when Victoria stomped out of the kitchen door in the flesh, just as Aisha had suspected. No projections this time around. Her grandmother was probably too angry to sustain one.

“It’s about fucking time,” Victoria snarled. Before Aisha could reply that she didn’t owe anyone any explanations—except maybe the horses who were whinnying up a storm—Victoria kept right on rolling.

“I told you to steer clear of that dragon shifter. I even paid Liam a visit. Did either of you listen to me? What happens next? Are you planning to leave the horses to fend for themselves? Do you have any idea what will happen to them if Colewright magic vanishes from this land?”

Aisha planted her hands on her hips and squared off in front of Victoria. “I suspect they’ll end up ‘normal’ horses, not ones sensitive to magic. Besides, if you truly cared about them, you’d be in the barn, not out here treating me like a ten-year-old.”

The whinnies escalated to squeals. The way the horses viewed things, she may have abandoned them, but she was home now, and they were flat out of patience. Aisha tossed her head. “You’ll have to hang onto the rest of this lecture until I’ve calmed them down.”

Mwrowwww! Hector raced from the shadows, stopping a couple of inches in front of her, screeching and hissing.

“For Christ’s sake, muffle whatever that creature is,” she told Victoria before trotting into the barn.

The smells of horses and hay surrounded her as she shoved the sliding door aside and passed beneath the lintel into the barn. She grabbed carrots from the fridge and made the rounds of her babies, crooning to them, reaching into their minds and reassuring them she adored them. Her initial concern that Victoria would follow her inside didn’t materialize. Perhaps her grandmother retained enough caring for the horses to understand they’d react badly to an argument unfolding right beneath their snouts.

Everyone bought her apologies but Butch. He was determined to hang onto his foul mood—even after taking three carrot bits from her.

Aisha couldn’t spare any more time. Liam would be here soon, so she draped her usual magic around her charges and left the barn. Victoria stood where she’d left her. Hector was nowhere to be seen.

“Feel like a conversation between adults?” Aisha leveled her gaze at her grandmother.

“Not particularly.” Victoria folded her arms beneath her breasts. “I specifically told you not to do something. You did it anyway.”

“And you know this how?” Aisha took a step closer. “Have you made it a habit to spy on me all these years?”

Victoria’s nostrils flared. “You reek of sex.”

“Maybe so, but you appear to be clear on who my partner was.”

As always when she was cornered, Victoria switched tactics. “I care about you—”

Aisha rounded on her. “The hell you do. You care about tradition and Colewright witchery. I’m just the latest patsy in the string. Interesting that it’s you here and not Mom. She was delighted when you faked your death and left. Not that she ever had much of a life, but those twenty years when it was just me and her were nice.

“Except for the cat. Take him with you. I do not need a resident mole.”

“Hector isn’t the point,” Victoria shot back.

The distant rumble of a truck reached her. She straightened her shoulders. “Liam will be here soon. I—”

“Perfect. Gives me an opportunity to say what I need to once and be done with it.”

Feeling bold, Aisha said, “What if I told you he was moving in here?”

Victoria’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “I’d forbid it. Only Colewright witches can live on these lands.”

Aisha waved a dismissive hand. “Pfft. You made that up.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Why do you think you never knew your father?”

“Because you chased him away. As for whoever fathered Mom, hell you probably ate him as soon as he’d serviced you.”

Anger streamed from Victoria, forming reddish ribbons around her tall, spare form. “Show some respect, young woman.”

“Why?” Aisha tried to corral her fury, but it was a losing proposition. “Respect is a two-way street. If you flash your prickly side at Liam, I’ll ask you to leave. I’m the Colewright witch in charge now. I’m the one with the link to the land.”

Aisha couldn’t believe she’d stood up to her grandmother. Thrown down the gauntlet. But she couldn’t take the words back even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. It was scary—and exhilarating—finally not to pick and choose what emerged from her mouth.

Liam’s rattletrap truck rolled into view. He parked it next to hers and got out. With his superior magic, he must have sensed her grandmother. Good Victoria’s presence hadn’t chased him away.

Her respect for Liam expanded a notch. Not that she’d have expected him to back down from much, but knowing he’d be facing a pissed-off witch would give most anyone second thoughts.

He walked briskly to where she and Victoria stood facing each other. His coppery locks fell to his shoulders, and he wore the same denim she’d peeled off him a few hours before. With his broad-shouldered build and slim hips, he’d look good no matter what he chose.

He nodded briskly and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Top of the evening, ladies.”

“Save your silver tongue,” Victoria retorted. “Which part of ‘stay away from my granddaughter’ didn’t sink in?”

He offered a disarming grin. “Guess her charms outplayed your prohibition.”

Aisha caught wisps of a calming spell woven into his words. He was trying to defuse things, a path she’d trod many times with zero success.

“Someone cast the Heart’s Desire spell tonight,” Aisha told her grandmother, hoping to divert her from reading Liam the riot act.

“Aye, and not just any version,” Liam chimed in. “’Twas the hardiest casting I’ve ever seen of that spell. The town green looked like the backroom in a bordello, with dozens of rutting couples.”

Victoria narrowed her eyes farther. “Do you know who was behind it? Summoning that casting at all is a violation of our covenant.”

“Ha! You never gave up your seat on the sorcerer’s council, did you?” Aisha stared at her grandmother.

“Why should I?” Victoria stared back. “Just because I left Stillwater was no reason to leave all my friends and associates behind.” She shrugged. “Everyone magical knows I’m not dead.”

“And everyone human wherever you’re living now has no idea you’re a witch,” Aisha muttered.

“We don’t know who was behind Heart’s Desire.” Liam circled the conversation back to Victoria’s question.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll find out. Meanwhile”—she addressed her words to Liam—“my granddaughter is tied to this land. You’re linked to Xara. You cannot take her away from these lands—or the horses.”

“Why not?” Liam asked, curiosity underscoring his words.

“Because it will uproot her magic.”

“You left,” Aisha pointed out. A shaky, sinking feeling ran through her. Surely her grannie was blowing smoke, trying one more scare tactic to manipulate her.

Victoria nodded. “The land link passes from one witch to another, but only witches with Colewright blood qualify. I handed the baton to your mother. It freed me to leave. She gave it to you.”

“When were you going to get around to telling me that little tidbit?” Aisha made a grab for her anger, but it bled out of her.

“That was Charlotte’s job. I had no idea you didn’t know.” Victoria shook her head. “I’ll be taking it up with her—soon.”

Aisha sagged against Liam. She’d never heard this part of her family legacy. “But that’s horrible,” she ground out. “I’m a prisoner here.”

“Not precisely. Once you produce a child, and she grows up, you’ll be free to live whatever life you desire.” Victoria looked from one to the other of them, seemingly satisfied her words had the desired effect. “I’m heading into town. I want to investigate that Heart’s Desire mess before the energy fades, and I can’t track who cast it.”

Aisha started to offer up Arabia’s name but decided against it. The longer Victoria was otherwise occupied, the better.

Light rose around her grandmother, and she shimmered into motes of brilliance before vanishing entirely.

Liam tightened his hold on Aisha. “I’m guessing you didn’t know that wee bit about your magic.”

Aisha shook her head, still reeling from the specter of losing her magic if she walked away. “I don’t get it,” she muttered.

“Don’t get what?” His voice was gentle.

“I leave to go into town. Tonight, I was gone for maybe six or seven hours. How the hell does the land know if I’m just leaving on an errand or moving elsewhere for good?”

Hector chose that moment to swoosh in from wherever he’d been hiding or hunting or whatever cats do in their spare time. Fangs bared, he launched himself at Liam, who let go of Aisha and caught him midair. The cat hissed, snarled, spit, and tried to swipe a paw with claws extended across Liam’s hands.

Aisha made a grab for him, intent on making sure the cat didn’t do any damage.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned.” Liam whistled long and low. “’Tis been many a long year since I’ve seen one such as him.” He followed up with a string of Gaelic that froze Hector mid-swipe.

“Do you know what he is?” Aisha asked, feeling decidedly unsteady. The horses hadn’t fussed one bit about the dragon shifter fifty yards from where they were bedded down, but Hector apparently viewed him as a threat.

“Och. Sure and ’tis a changeling.” Liam angled his head, regarding Hector with interest.

“You have to say more than that.”

“Changelings are faery children who were snared in spells when quite young. Sometimes faeries left their misbehaving spawn out on the Scottish moors to teach them respect. Other magic-wielders knew of the practice, and many would skulk on the moors at night waiting to snap up a faery child.”

Aisha was fascinated. “But why? What did they use them for?”

“Various things. Apparently one of your witchy ancestors grabbed this one and imported him to the New World.”

“I’m still not understanding why. From what I can see, Grannie uses Hector to spy on me, but surely she could accomplish the same thing with magic. Why imprison a harmless…?” She stopped talking at the grim expression on Liam’s face.

“First off,” he began and set the seemingly paralyzed not-a-cat on the ground, “faery spawn are far from harmless. They carry powerful magic. My guess is he’s what locks you to these lands. I can’t see any other rationale for having such a creature here.”

Aisha sucked in a tense breath. It made sense. Her mother had hated the cat. Had she known what it was? “Is there some way to sever the enchantment?”

Liam nodded. “Aye, lass, that there is, and it would solve one problem.”

Something about his tone flagged her attention. “Does that mean there are others I don’t know about?”

“’Tis exactly what it means. Can we go inside? Perhaps sit and have a wee dram of whiskey?”

“Um, sure.” Trepidation dug sharp, icy claws into her spine as she led the way into the house.

Liam scooped up Hector before following her. “I’m not certain how long my immobilization spell will hold him. Do you have one of those animal crate things?”

“Yeah. Hang on.” Aisha shut the door behind them and went to the laundry room, returning with a cat carrier.

Liam took it from her and set the comatose feline inside, latching the door.

“If his magic is powerful, how come he can’t think himself free?” Aisha asked.

Instead of answering her, Liam glanced around her home. “Cozy. I like it.” Walking to where liquor bottles lined a cabinet, he selected a bottle and poured whiskey into two glasses. “Come sit.” He motioned to her, waiting until she settled onto one of two couches at right angles to one another.

Once she’d sat down, he sank onto the couch butting against hers so he faced her. “The changeling’s magic is woven into the land. I suspect the system was set into place by one of your ancestors to ensure the witch du jour couldn’t run off without paying the price of leaving her magic behind.”

Aisha thought about it. “So, if my power is land-linked, and the changeling’s is as well—”

“The land provides a conduit. If the changeling knows you’re leaving, its task is to suck your power through that conduit.” One corner of his chiseled mouth twisted downward. “Believe me, the changeling would be motivated. If it could lay hands on your power in addition to its own, it may well have enough to break free from the Colewright witches and be done with all of you.”

“I can see where it would be a powerful incentive. I can’t believe a faery would actually like spending its life as a cat. But what if one of us Colewrights snuck away? Once we were beyond the reach of these few acres, could the changeling’s magic still grab ours? Beyond that, what would stop it from snapping up my magic anyway?”

“Honor is ingrained into their nature. As for your distance question, I don’t know quite how that works,” Liam replied. “What I am certain of, though, is that I possess sufficient magic to sever the creature’s connection to these lands—and the Colewright witches.” His direct gaze skittered away, and her stomach tightened. This must be the other thing. The one she didn’t know about.

She drained half the whiskey in her tumbler, rewarded by it burning a hole in her throat as it slithered down. When she was through sputtering, she said, “Whatever this is, just tell me and have done with it.”

He slugged back most of his whiskey, licking drops off his lips. Watching his tongue fascinated her. She remembered the wicked things it had done to her dark, private places, and the spot he’d bitten her shoulder tingled.

“Aye, lassie, ’tis the mate bond you’re feeling.” His brogue was thick as clotted cream.

“What mate bond?” Her voice was shriller than she would have liked.

“I’m a dragon shifter—”

She made a chopping motion. “I know that. What mate bond?”

“’Tis sorry I am we didn’t have this conversation afore making love—”

“What conversation?” Her tone was decidedly shrill now. “You’ve told me less than nothing.”

He held up both hands. “Let me get through this. I never will if you keep interrupting.”

Aisha bit her tongue and spun one hand in a circle, urging him to get on with things. Maybe because Liam was distracted, Hector was waking up and yowling piteously. Now that she knew what he was, she felt sorry for him. No matter what came out of Liam’s mouth in the next few minutes, she’d hold him to his promise to free Hector from bondage to the Colewright witches.

“You would have had a difficult time walking away from me once we made love,” he began, “but my bondmate likes you.” Liam swallowed, his throat working. “While we were consummating our lovemaking, he grabbed the point and bit you.”

Aisha sent a pointed glance his way. “I don’t understand what that means. I can go over there”—she pointed at a distant bookshelf—“and look it up, or you can tell me.”

“It, uh, means you’re my mate. And I’m yours,” he hurried on. “Forever.”

She fell back against the couch. “As in married with no possibility of divorce?”

He nodded. “You’ve put it in modern terms, but aye.”

Fury boiled from her guts; she slammed a fist into the arm of the couch before bolting upright. Standing over him, she said. “Not just no. Hell no! I will not go from being a prisoner to this ranch to being imprisoned by some antiquated mate bond. I suppose that gives you the right to drag me back to Xara by my hair?”

Smoke billowed from Liam’s mouth, followed by a gout of flame. She jumped back. Knowing what he was versus being confronted by direct evidence were two different animals entirely.

“Sorry.” He stood too. “I’m sorry. It’s my dragon. He’s furious. His plan is for us to return to Xara, but for that you’d have to undergo a ritual transformation and become a dragon shifter.”

“That’s never, never going to happen. Tell your dragon to take a hike.” She pressed her lips into a tight line. “Is there more, or have you told me everything?”

He nodded solemnly, steam still oozing from his mouth and nose. “A wee bit more. Ye’re slated to love me forever. No other man will ever appeal to you.” He held up a hand, probably at her horrified expression, and hurried to add. “The same is true for me. You’re the only woman for me. Now and always. You can boot me out of here, tell me you never want to see me again, but that won’t matter one whit.”

He stopped long enough to take a breath. “The very last bit—”

“Awk. How could this possibly get any worse?” she demanded.

“Do you wish to hear or no?” At her tight nod, he went on. “I was banished from Xara for a hundred years. One of the requirements before I return is I must be mated, and—”

“Stop right there.” She was so angry, her legs shook. “Everyone has deceived me. Grannie. Mom. You. Fuck!” Her skin crawled with revulsion and disgust at how everyone she’d ever cared about had used her.

“Is there aught I can do?” Pain laced through his words, but she didn’t care. Let him hurt. He’d brought this on himself.

“Aye, laddie,” she mocked him. “Free Hector, and then get the fuck out of here.”

“As you wish.” He bowed, a formal, old-fashioned gesture that spoke to how old he was.

The cat hissed and pawed at the cat carrier.

“Free him,” Aisha screeched.

“Give me space to work.”

She walked to the far side of the downstairs and watched while Liam wove gold and silver strands of power around the cat carrier before opening the door. Once he had Hector in his arms, he chanted in Gaelic so old she couldn’t follow the incantation. The air around the cat took on an incandescent quality, and Hector’s cat shape morphed into a cherubic faery with green and black wings and clouds of strawberry-colored hair.

The two-foot-tall creature threw its chubby arms around Liam’s neck and kissed both his cheeks before flitting to the door and undoing the latch. Once it swung open, Hector—or whatever his name was—flew off into the budding dawn.

“What? No goodbye for me?” she taunted, feeling bitchy and out of sorts.

A complex array of emotion played over Liam’s gorgeous face. Resignation. Sorrow. Desire. “I’ll be on my way, lass. As you requested. I am most humbly sorry, but I love you. I’ll love you always. The mate bond doesn’t lie. It picks our one true love.”

“Yours, maybe,” she muttered, feeling torn. Part of her wanted to run to him, throw herself into his arms, and never let go. Another part was horrified. To be driven by an amorphous dragon shifter mate bond that cut off the possibility of choice, of free will, was abhorrent.

As if to mock her, the bite on her shoulder burned like someone had poured liquid fire over the spot.

No, she corrected herself. It’s more like he branded me.

To avoid dealing with any of it, she turned her back to Liam, listening as his heavy tread crossed to the door Hector had left open and continued on into her yard. It was only when she heard his truck engine turn over that she made her way to the door, shutting and locking it.

Hector was free. It meant she could leave, but desolation battered her. Hot, bitter tears underscored the sham her life had turned into, and she sank to the floor weeping and not understanding how everything had spun so far out of control.