Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Billy Kinkaid wasn't thrilled to be traveling to Ohio without his brothers. Not that he couldn't accomplish this simple mission without them, but the whole situation was an undeniable sign of momentous change in their family dynamics. Rich, the eldest, had just found his mate. That was going to change things. Forever.

Where before the three brothers had worked together more often than not, both while they'd been active-duty SEALs and now that they'd retired to freelance status, with one of them mated, that would change. Rich's mate, Meg, had to come first, and Rich wouldn't be taking on dangerous roles in their missions unless there really was no other choice. He was going to be in more of a support position, gathering intel and running the back end of any ops. As he was doing now for Billy.

No longer would the three of them be fighting shoulder to shoulder out in the field. From now on, Rich would be protecting his mate first and foremost. He'd be taking a back seat unless absolutely necessary. Billy realized he was going to miss fighting evil alongside his oldest brother.

They'd been a team of three since they all qualified for the SEAL units. A very highly classified black ops trio that had come under the direct control of Admiral Morrow. He had known their special capabilities and decided early on to use them as a unit of their own. Irregular, but then, being a lion shifter in the U.S. military was already irregular in the extreme.

Admiral Morrow was a powerful being himself. He knew how to best deploy those with magical abilities and other special traits. And he wouldn't send his people on any mission that had evil motivations or purposes. They were all in the military to fight evil, not promote it in any way.

Right now, Billy was nearing his destination in an upscale Cleveland suburb, to help protect a woman who had links to the coven that had just come under fire on Long Island. The girl he'd been sent to protect was named Amalie, and she was the granddaughter of one of the elders of the coven that called themselves the Marsh Witches of Sagaponack.

*

"Gran, I really don't need a protector. Tell the guy to go back home," Amalie said for the fifth time while on the phone with her grandmother as she moved around her kitchen, cooking dinner for herself.

"You don't really know what you're up against, sweetie. You're going to need help, and this boy is both highly skilled and easy on the eyes," her great-grandmother insisted. "He'll be there tonight. Make him welcome and don't be mean. He's gone out of his way to get there."

"I didn't ask him to come!" Amalie was fed up with trying to be nice. She really didn't need this right now.

" I asked him," Gran said with finality. "And you will not be rude or discourteous to him. He's doing you a favor. He's putting himself in harm's way to keep you safe. You should be grateful. You need protection if you insist on living out there on your own."

"I wouldn't need protection if you were a normal grandmother," Amalie muttered under her breath. Somehow, her Gran heard it anyway.

"Sweet child, you need protection not because of who I am, but because of what you are. Never forget the power you hold and the responsibility it requires." Her grandmother's tone was both kind and chastising, and Amalie felt like an ungrateful wretch. Gran always had a way of doing that to her.

"Is it too much to ask to live a normal life? Even just for a little while?"

They'd had this discussion before. When Amalie had left Long Island and struck out on her own, and many times since. Her grandmother insisted she was running scared, and maybe that thought had some merit, but what Amalie really wanted was just a taste of a normal life. Away from all the magic and the big scary fate-of-the-world stuff her Gran was always talking about.

"And how are you enjoying your so-called normal life?" Gran went on. "Has the jerk at work stopped harassing you yet? And what about the nosy neighbor? Sweetheart, the real world isn't all it's cracked up to be. I keep telling you that."

"And you're probably right, but I need to learn some things for myself, Gran. I can't live like a hothouse flower in the safety of the coven neighborhood and never know what it's like to be a normal person. You lived free in your youth. Why are you denying me the same chance?" She wasn't sure, but Amalie thought she might be whining. If so, she was going to stop. She hated whiners.

"The world was a very different place when I was a girl. There were no cars or instantaneous communications. And the coven hadn't been formed yet. I welcomed the opportunity to be safe among my sister witches because the real world is pretty scary for a witch on her own," Gran insisted.

"But at least you had the chance to learn that for yourself." They were going in circles. As they usually did when they discussed this topic. "Gran, I have to go. I'll talk to the guy when he gets here, but I make no promises as to what happens next."

"Well, at least you're going to talk to him," Gran muttered, clearly annoyed. "That's something, I guess."

Amalie would have replied, but the doorbell rang, and she welcomed the reprieve from this troubling conversation. This argument had been going on for a long time. It wasn't going to be solved today.

"I've got to go. There's someone at the door," Amalie told her grandmother, already walking toward the front of the house.

"If it's him, at least hear him out. He went a long way in a short time. He's probably tired from his journey. Be nice," her grandmother scolded her.

"I'm always nice," Amalie said, her words clipped. "Bye for now, Gran. I'll talk to you in a few days."

Her grandmother sighed heavily and said goodbye somewhat ungraciously. Amalie shrugged. Why didn't Gran understand? Amalie wanted to live a normal life. Just for a little while.

She knew she'd been born with more than her fair share of magic, and her Gran insisted she had some kind of big destiny to fulfill.

But before all that happened, she just wanted a chance to live like a regular human being. Without all the weirdness and especially without the pressure of expectations from every witch in the coven. She was tired of being the one they all gossiped about any time she did magic and her showy brand of energy made its appearance. It wasn't her fault her father was fey.

But what good that did her in the human world, she had no idea. So far, all it had done was make her a target of gossip—and according to her grandmother, a target of the Venifucus who wanted to steal her power.

"Just let them try," she said aloud as she put her phone down and headed for the front door.

She'd been a student of magic from childhood and had long ago mastered her own brand of power. Anybody who messed with her wouldn't get a second chance. She shook her head as she reached the door. Sensing no danger from the other side of the door, she opened it, ready to face whatever was waiting for her.

"Son of a bitch," the pretty woman who'd just opened the door swore, taking Billy completely by surprise.

"Excuse me?" Billy looked around, wondering what he'd done to evoke that sort of greeting.

She shook her head, her wavy blonde hair swinging with her movements. "Sorry. I guess you're him, aren't you?"

"Him, who?" This wasn't making a lot of sense.

"The guy Gran just told me about." She rocked back on her heels and gave him a daring look. "Go ahead. Give me the spiel."

"The what?" This wasn't going at all the way he'd expected.

"Okay. Let's start over." She breathed a sigh as she shook her head. "Who are you, and what are you doing on my doorstep?"

"I'm Billy Kinkaid, ma'am," he replied. "And I suppose you're Amalie?"

"Guilty as charged," she replied.

"I'm here because your grandmother asked me to check on you, since we believe you may be targeted."

"Targeted by who?" Amalie asked, her little chin rising stubbornly. For a crazy lady, she sure was cute, Billy thought.

"Did you ever know a Mrs. Entwistle?" he countered.

"Mrs. Entwistle?" She looked truly surprised. "Is that who was blabbing to the Venifucus about the coven?"

Billy knew nobody was around to hear her words, but it still seemed risky to talk about this stuff out in the open. He nodded. "Do you think we could talk about this someplace a bit more private?"

"Oh, you want to come in?" One delicate brow rose in challenge. "Are you a bloodletter that you need to be invited in?"

A breath escaped him that was almost amusement as he shook his head. "No, ma'am, but I was raised to be polite. This is your territory. I won't trespass. But if you don't feel comfortable inviting me in, maybe we could go around back and sit in your backyard or something? It's not wise to discuss certain matters out on the public street."

"Okay," she allowed. "I'll give you that. Gran would be frowning at me for sure. Go around back. I'll meet you on the patio." She gestured toward the side of the house and the little pathway that led through a small gate to the backyard.

Then, she shut the door in his face, and Billy just shook his head again as he headed for the gate. This woman was definitely not what he'd expected. Not by a long shot.

Amalie tried to get herself under control after she shut the door—admittedly, rather rudely—on the man. Damn, but he was even more handsome in person than he'd been in her X-rated dreams.

Coming face-to-face with the man she'd been sleeping with for the past few months… Okay… She'd been dreaming of him. And doing…things…with him that just about set her panties on fire for the past few months. Although sometimes, they just walked along a beach together or cuddled on the couch. They didn't talk in her dreams, but after the first few dreams, his face had come into focus, and she had no doubt the man who'd come all the way from Long Island to help her at her Gran's request was the man from her dreams.

He didn't seem to realize it. Thank goodness. She'd sensed no recognition on his end, so that had to mean the dreams hadn't been reciprocal. She might have been dreaming of him, but he hadn't been dreaming of her, so there was no reason to feel so mortified. Was there?

She couldn't help it. Seeing him in the flesh made her wonder if he was as good in bed in person as he'd been in her dreams. Probably not. Men, in her somewhat limited experience, never quite lived up to their advertising. Oh, they might look pretty and strong and reliable, but none of the few she'd dated had ever lived up to any of those expectations.

Which was why she was still alone. Well, except for Mr. Humblebee, her cat. Her familiar , one might say, if she wanted to indulge her witchy side. Mr. Humblebee had been humbled by a swarm of bees, of all things, on the day they'd met. He'd come to her for help after getting stung multiple times. The poor thing had been swollen and puffy. He'd been clearly miserable, and she'd helped him as best she could.

After that, he'd decided to move in. He hadn't asked her thoughts on the topic, but he'd just made himself at home, and she'd decided to deal with it. She bought him different foods, testing to find what he liked best, and organized a few cat beds placed in strategic lounging spots around the house. Sometimes, he even deigned to use them.

Mr. Humblebee was a bit of a snob when it came to people. He'd allow her to scratch behind his ears and would even cuddle with her on the couch at night, but when strangers appeared, he disappeared.

Which was why she found it amazing, when she reached the glass door to the patio, to find the orange cat twining in and out of Billy's legs. He then used his claws to climb up the man's jeans. Amalie opened the door and stepped out onto the patio, taking in the mystifying sight.

"Whoa, there, tiger," Billy said, catching the cat before his claws reached softer fabric, and the skin beneath. Billy was smiling as he looked up at her, Mr. Humblebee lying along one muscular forearm as he stroked the purring cat. "Is he yours?"