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Chapter Three

“Binx!” I called as I shut the front door. “Binxy, I'm home!”

The thud of little paws came from the stairwell and then Binx, my black cat—because all witches need a black cat—appeared at the top of the wooden stairs. I grinned as he sauntered down the steps. He looked overweight, but to quote Gabriel Iglesias; he was just fluffy. His black fur had a reddish-brown tinge to it and his ears were pointed, giving him the look of a red panda. He'd been a gift from my mother. The best present I'd ever received.

“Hey, baby,” I said as I crouched near the stairs.

When he got to the final step, Binx stood on his back paws. I bent down so he could put his forepaws on my shoulders. Then I picked him up and carried him into the kitchen like he was a human child. The craziness of the day seeped away under his purring. My boy and a pint of Tillamook Sea Salt and Honeycomb ice cream was all I needed. It was a full-pint night.

I set Binx down on his window perch near the kitchen counter and went to fix his dinner first. He had me trained. If I didn't get him, his wet food before I tried to make my meal, he'd be weaving in and out of my feet, crying. Damn, I loved that cat.

I warmed up Binx's food and set it on the sill before him. As he ate, I grabbed a bag of frozen broccoli from Costco out of the freezer and threw it in the microwave. While that nuked, I peered around in the fridge. No, I wasn't going to go straight for the ice cream. I needed some protein first. I was suffering from some serious energy loss.

I made some quick chicken fajitas with leftover rotisserie chicken, then added the broccoli on the side. Butter and salt all over the broccoli, and I was good to go. I sat down at the kitchen table and set into my meal.

Ten minutes later, Binx was on the seat next to mine, and I was thinking about that ice cream. All right, I was thinking about Darius and ice cream. Yes, together. You don't have to get your thoughts out of the gutter because that's exactly where mine were.

“Ugh!” I growled and stood up.

Binx stared at me with his bright blue eyes.

“There was a situation at work today,” I said to him. “I accidentally doused a man-whore with Open Your Heart.”

Binx made a huffing sound.

“Yeah, I know!” I threw my arms up. “It was a nightmare. Especially since the guy is gorgeous and kisses like a dream. And he's one of those man-whores who's actually looking for the one. His soul mate.” I rolled my eyes as I went to the window to grab Binx's dish and ended up staring out of it while I sighed. “Ugh! Now, I'm acting like a lovesick fool. I don't even believe in soul mates. And I know he was only . . .” I trailed off as I saw movement on the edge of my property.

I lived on several acres of wooded land on the outskirts of Spokane. Mostly, I didn't see my neighbors, and I liked it that way. But the house to my left, the one in the direction I was looking, had a lot of traffic heading to it recently. At night, sometimes I heard gunshots. I got a bad feeling about those people and what was coming out of the tree line confirmed it.

“Shit!” I ran for the front door. “Get out of the window, Binx.” I grabbed my spell vest, its front covered in utility pockets full of potions and spell grenades. I slung it on as I bolted out the door. I did make sure to close the door behind me because of Binx, but then I was running at full speed through the front garden, toward the tree line. Because a man was stumbling out of it, looking as if he was about to fall over.

The closer I got, the more I heard the sound of shouting. They, whoever they were, were chasing this guy. But he was in my territory now, and damn lucky for it. On both of my properties—the bar and my home—I had magical spells cast into the borders, just in case of an emergency like this one. The proper words from me would activate the spell and raise a ward—a magic barrier. Not only would it keep out everything from bugs to bullets, but it would also encourage people to turn away.

I got to the man just as he stumbled and fell to his knees. He looked up at me with wide eyes, their color lost to the darkness, but his expression was one of wonder. He reached for me as he swayed, and I saw that his shirt was wet with blood. I grabbed his hand, then steadied him with my thigh.

“Run, angel. Fly away. The Host is after me,” he said.

He must have lost a lot of blood to be spouting that kind of nonsense.

“Shh. You're safe now. Just give me one second to protect us.” I held out a hand toward the edge of my property and felt the answering tingle of magic. “None shall pass!”

With my words, the spell activated, shooting up from the earth to dome over my property and even dive into the ground. Suddenly, the sounds of shouting were muted, and the night went quiet.

“Holy fuck!” the man exclaimed. “You're not an angel. You're fucking Gandalf.” And then he passed out.

I caught his weight with a grunt, then said, “Actually, Gandalf is seriously misquoted. He says, 'You cannot pass.' But whatever.” I glanced back at the house, then down at the man. “I may not be an angel, but I can still fly. And I can make you fly too.”

I pulled a potion out of a pocket and sprinkled some on him. With a few words to cast the spell, the man floated up to hover before me on his back.

“Come on,” I said as I took his hand. “Let's get you inside.”

I pulled him along, crossing the yard with my man-float, and then went up to the porch. I lived in an old Victorian-esque house with a wide porch, gingerbread details, wobbly-paned windows, and a turret. The turret is what sold me. I loved my house. It was my sanctuary, and I couldn't believe that I was bringing a complete stranger into it. Around my cat.

But I couldn't leave the guy out there to get lynched. Not on my watch, Satan! So, I took him inside. As I shut the door behind us, I glanced back at the trees, but there was no movement. And there wouldn't be. My place was on lockdown. Only I could cross the border. Or those I brought across in my company.

I took the man into the living room but left him hovering there as I went to fetch a drop cloth and towels. Yeah, I know. But I wasn't about to let him bleed all over my beautiful hand-loomed rug. So, I set the cloth down and then lowered him onto it. He sighed and then went still.

After unbuttoning his shirt, I used one of the towels to wipe away the blood. I expected to find wounds. Plural. And I did, but they looked weeks, if not months, old. And they were improving before my eyes.

“What the hell?” I whispered as I ran my fingers over what had to be bullet wounds. Or had been bullet wounds. They were circular red welts that were getting paler and smoother under my fingers. “Holy shit.”

Binx padded over and gave him a sniff. Then he hissed.

“Binx!” I gaped at him. He rarely hissed.

Binx growled at the man, then ran for the stairs.

“Binx!” I called after him.

“Angel,” the man murmured. “Saved from the Host by a real angel. How ironic.”

I looked back at the man and my jaw fell open. Not because his wounds had healed further but because he was handsome as all hell. Short raven black hair, a jawline that wouldn't quit, and a pair of golden-gray eyes. I looked closer. No, they were gray with flecks of amber. Silver and gold. Wow. And he looked really familiar. Sort of like Darius. But that had to be remnants of the potion affecting me. Shit. Now, I was seeing Darius in every man I met, even some random guy who stumbled onto my property.

After getting shot.

“I need to call the police,” I said and started to stand.

“No, don't.” He grabbed my hand, then instantly let go when he saw me flinch. He held it up, palm out. “Sorry. Just, please don't call the police. I'm fine. See?” He sat up and swiped at his face, smearing blood across his cheek.

“Yeah, about that. How are you doing that?” I waved at his vanishing wounds.

He smirked and really looked like Darius. “How did you save me, angel? How did you even get me in here?” He looked around. “I felt like I was floating.”

“You were. I'm a witch.” What the hell. Why not tell the guy with supernatural healing what I was? Maybe he'd show me the same courtesy and be honest with me in return.

A pair of perfectly arched brows climbed the man's forehead. “A witch? It's been a while since I've met one of you.” He inclined his head. “Then I was right. You are an angel.”

“What?” I frowned.

“There are no bad witches. You're all angels. The purest souls around.”

“Uh-huh.”

He chuckled. Then he went serious. “But not all of them are as beautiful as you.”

Two in one night. Wow. I was on a roll. After months of celibacy, my libido was jumping for joy. Especially now that I could look at the man's chest without getting distracted by his wounds. It was a piece of art, sculpted by a god. Pure sexual beauty. Seeing him heal was startling, but I was glad that he wouldn't have scars. It would have been a crime.

“I'm Dominic,” he said and held out his hand. “Dominic Demos.”

“Nice alliteration,” I murmured as I shook his hand. “Well done on your parents.”

“Actually, I chose my name. My dad was, uh, very progressive.” He grinned again, and I got the impression that he smiled more than he didn't. Dominic Demos radiated joy.

So why had Binx run from him? Maybe it was all the blood.

“You chose your name? How did that work? You were just nameless until you could talk?”

“You haven't told me your name? Or should I just continue to call you angel?”

“Oh! Sorry. I'm Amélie. Amélie Chenier.”

“It's a great pleasure to meet you, Amélie. French, eh?”

“Yes. That's right.”

“It suits you. Beautiful.”

I chuckled. “Well, Dominic. Care to tell me who the Host is and why you were running away from them?”

Dominic crossed his legs and got comfortable even though his shirt was bloody, in tatters, and hanging open. Oh yeah, and he was sitting on a drop cloth on my floor. “They're the bad guys. I'm one of the good guys.”

“Uh-huh. And are you a witch too? I've never seen magic that can heal like that. Usually, you have to at least activate it with a chant. Unless you cast it on yourself earlier.”

“No, I'm not a witch.” He chewed at his lower lip. “Hey, I know we just met, and you don't know me, but I swear to you that I'm a good guy. You can trust me.”

“I believe that, but my cat doesn't seem to like you and that worries me.”

Dominic blinked. “What?”

“My cat. He hissed at you and ran off.” I leaned forward and peered into his strangely beautiful eyes. “What are you, Dominic? If you're not a witch, you must something else. Something Binx doesn't like.” I glanced at his chest. “Something that can heal wounds in seconds.”

His stare swept over my face and his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. In a low, velvety whisper, he said, “I can barely think when you're this close.”

I eased back. “Uh-huh. Answer the question.”

Dominic grinned. “Can I use your shower?”

“What?” I scowled at him.

“I'm covered in blood. It's starting to itch. Would you mind if I showered?”

“Aren't you worried about those people who are after you?”

“You set a ward, didn't you? We're safe.”

“How did you know that?”

“You're a witch. And I heard activate something.”

I grimaced. “At least tell me who the Host is. That's what you called them. They're right next door. I need to know if I'm in danger.”

His convivial expression went serious. “All right. I promise I'll tell you everything. After a shower. Agreed?”

I grimaced. “Fine. Come on.”

I got up and waited for him to do the same. He did so without a wobble, and then he was looming over me, and I was rethinking the whole bringing a stranger into my home thing.

“Whoa now.” Dominic held up his hands again. “I'm not going to hurt you. I told you that you can trust me. You just saved my life. What kind of bastard would I be if I turned around and hurt you? Besides, don't you have a spell in that vest of yours that could lay me flat?”

I looked down. I was still wearing the vest. With a frown, I looked back up at him. “How did you know these are spells?”

“Lucky guess.” He grinned.

“Dominic,” I snapped.

“Oh, now you sound like my packmates.”

“Your what?”

Dominic cleared his throat. “My, uh, teammates. I'll explain after my shower.” He paused to grin again, flashing a dimple. “Please. I hate being itchy. I'm going to start scratching soon.”

I sighed. “All right. This way.” I led him upstairs and into the hallway bathroom. “Help yourself.” I waved at the towels and the stuff in the shower. “I'll go make us some tea.”

“Sounds good.”

I went to step past him, and he touched my shoulder. Just a tap to get my attention. “Amélie?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For all of this. For helping me and welcoming into your home. You really are an angel.”

I snorted. “Hardly. But you're welcome.”

I shut the door and went downstairs, wondering if I was a moron. Or maybe that Open Your Heart potion was still working on me.

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