Page 3 of Reckless Witch

There it is. That secret. What the—

My grip tightens around my drink as his eyes shift past me. In the corner of my eye, a tall blonde sashays past our table. I tamp down my anger and do my best not to envision him getting hit by that bus. The Illumina has ripped away my past and intends to steal my future, and I’m supposed to wait while their messenger boy watches some tall, thin lovely walk past.

He gives a tiny nod in the woman’s direction and I realize he knows her. Ethan reaches for his drink and the sleeve of his expensive dark suit jacket drifts up to expose the edge of a silver-laced tattoo. Most dragons love showing off their clan markings. The symbols are considered prestigious, and human women have an almost obsessive need to rub against bronze muscle bearing silver markings they don’t understand. Maybe it’s the magic that draws them.

I lift my gaze to his face and glimpse his darkening pupils in the instant before his eyes returns to me. Magic? Hell, it’s the pure maleness that radiates off dragons that ensnares women.

He sets down his drink. “What makes you think there wasn’t an investigation?”

Well, well, Ethan Bordeau might get distracted, but he gets back on track in a trice.

“Fucking evidence,” I retort. “The precise lack thereof.”

“The Illumina doesn’t publicize its business.”

I snort. “Sure they do. Miriam Crowe, consorting with Shadows? Not a chance.” I’d heard the vicious rumors clear over in Chicago. “And don’t try giving me the bullshit that she committed suicide.” He opens his mouth to reply, but I cut him off. “What right does the Illumina have to prevent me from living in my grandmother’s home? That’s my home now.”

I don’t mention that I still can’t find the damn house. He doesn’t need to know that Grams’ defense spells against me are still effective, even after death. When she kicked me out, she made the entire structure invisible—to my eyes only. I can wander around the vicinity all day and never see or touch the damn place. But come hell or high water, I’ll find the house. It’s mine now. My chance to have a real home again, neighbors who will notice if I go missing, even a reputable business.

Ethan arches a brow. “All your needs will be met at The Academy. Your grandmother’s house no longer matters.”

The part of me that longs for the security he’s offering jumps to life. Little does he know that’s the part that’s going to get me possession of Grams’ house.

“It’s an honor to be accepted into the hallowed halls of Illumina Academy,” Ethan says.

I snort. “Man, have you got the wrong Crowe. I dropped out of high school and took my sweet time getting my equivalency. I’m definitely not ‘advanced’ educational material.” A flash of shame washes over me at just how far from Academy material I am. I sell fake IDs—too often, to people who shouldn’t be walking this planet. Hardly the kind of student to set foot in one of the most illustrious magical institutions in the world.

“You’ve been identified as a High Potential,” he says.

I blink. “You are out of your ever-loving mind.”

He tilts his head. As I stare into the cerulean depths of his gaze, a strange tremor simmers in my belly. He’s sinfully ripped, even for a dragon, but there’s more to his allure than that god-like body. I uncross my legs, suddenly aware of how warm the packed club has become. My short leather skirt sticks to my legs. Thank God, I’d opted for a black bra and fishnet top.

Ethan waits, silently watching me.

“Trot on back home,” I say. “I’m not about to set foot in that place.”

“Don’t do this,” he warns softly. “It won’t end well.”

My fingers twitch.

His gaze flicks to my hands. He gives a slow shake of his head. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You’re worried I’ll kick your ass.”

He lifts his glass and sips his whisky. Then, his hand shoots out so fast I feel my flesh burn before the silver rune on the back of my hand registers in my brain.

“What the—”

The strange rune scores my skin, twinkling in the bar’s dim light. It feels like a spider crawling under my skin. I grit my teeth.

“The sigil will grant you access to the school,” Ethan states, then adds in a soft voice, “Just as it will ensure you arrive.”

Dragon magic.

I glare. “You better fucking hope you’re wrong, because if I am forced to show up, I’m coming for you.”

Ethan rises, slowly walks around the table, and stops behind me. I remain motionless as he leans close. The hair on my nape prickles as his warm breath heats my skin. My traitorous heart responds on a level that unsettles me.