Page 33 of Bad Witch

He dropped down and lowered his head, trying to make himself small again.

I walked up to him, and even like that we were almost eye level. “Thank you for recognizing what I needed last night. But please, believe me when I tell you, it’s me, not you. Being around people for long periods of time can be overwhelming sometimes, and I reacted badly.”

He bumped me with his big head, his tongue darting out to swipe at my fingers.

I laughed. “How can you be this huge and still manage to be cute?” The corners of his mouth curled up, and he flashed his fangs in what had to be a grin or maybe an attempt to look fierce and not cute. I laughed again. “You can shift back, if you want to. I promise I won’t run away again.”

He shifted instantly. One moment I was staring at his huge fuzzy head, the next, Fender rose in front of me, tall and handsome—and completely naked. He reached out to the cliff wall for balance since he was now on one leg, but those eyes were still gold and soft.

“You sure you’re okay, peaches?” he said.

Oh my. His deep red hair was down around his wide, tanned and muscled shoulders. The hair on his chest was the same shade, just a little darker. My gaze took in the wide expanse of his chest—then down, following the trail of hair. His stomach was rigid with muscle, like corrugated iron, then lower, where it met with his groin. The hair thickened there, and hanging between his thick thighs was—well, it seemed to be moving. Lifting.

Oh my. “Um⁠—”

His fingers brushed my chin, and he tilted my head back. His gaze had darkened, but his lips were curled in a wide smile. “I’m gonna need those eyes up here, babe.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” My eyes dipped again. I couldn’t help it. Wow.

“Don’t need to be sorry, but we have things to do, and you looking at me like that? Not going to be able to focus, Tempest.”

I blinked up at him.

“My clothes?”

I jumped into action. “Yes, of course.” Sliding off my pack, I threw it open, grabbed his clothes and his prosthesis, and handed them over, then quickly turned my back.

His low chuckle drifted over me.

When his hand touched my shoulder a few minutes later, I jumped.

“You sure you’re okay?” A deep frown lowered his brows. “You were afraid last night, Temp. You were panicked. If I ever gave you a reason to think you can’t trust me⁠—”

“You did nothing. I meant what I said. It’s me. I got overwhelmed, and then you asked about my past…and I—I don’t really like talking about my past, that’s all.” I tried to slide my pack back on, but Fender snagged it and put it on himself.

“You ever feel overwhelmed like that again, I want you to tell me to stop, and I will. I’m not good with recognizing what people are feeling, but I should have seen that you were struggling, and I hate that I didn’t. If I do something like that again, all you gotta say is stop, and I’ll shut the fuck up, yeah?”

“That’s very kind of you,” I said, feeling all fluttery and weird again.

“Hounds don’t like it when a female is hurt or distressed.” His gaze got intense again. “They really don’t like it. The fact that I caused you to feel that way? I hate it more than I think you get, but I’m gonna prove to you, peaches, that I’m a safe place for you to land. Always.”

Okay, wow. Warmth filled me. “You’re a good male, Fender.”

“I try to be, but nothing is more important than being a good male for you, understand?” he said, his voice taking on that growl of his.

For me? Why was that more important than anything? No, I didn’t understand, not at all, but I smiled anyway and nodded, because this seemed really important to him. I needed to move on from this conversation because I was confused and my emotions were all over the place. “I, uh, guess we should keep moving?”

He held my gaze for a couple more seconds, then dipped his chin. “Let’s go.”

As we searched the rock face, whispers of magic curled around me, but there was nothing concrete. I needed to draw on my own magic, to go deeper than usual, and there was only one way to do that. Unlike a lot of witches, I didn’t use blood to spell. A Matilda’s blood was a way to track her, or to reveal her identity, so we worked differently.

“I need to go into a bit of a trance,” I said to Fender. Unfortunately, it was the only way to reach out, to latch on to Brigid’s power. If we were going to find anything, this was how we’d do it.

“A trance?”

“I need to reach out for any magical traces of Brigid. They’ll be old now, faded, but they’ll still be here.” I offered him a reassuring smile. “Trancing is how the females in my coven increase their magic when needed. I might look a little different, or mutter some things, but don’t worry. I’ve done this a lot. This is what I do.” I chewed my lip. I had no choice but to trust him with this, but I needed reassurances. He said he wanted to be a good male for me, and hopefully this fell under that. “I’m also going to have to ask you not to tell anyone that I did this. Our coven is…old and very private. Not all witches would understand my way of doing things. They might even choose to distance themselves from me if they knew.”

His frown was back. “Why would someone distance themselves from you?”