Page 365 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

“She’s never going to get a minute to herself again,” Jarrad chuckled.

He slid out of his own seat and opened her door before she could blink. Who said chivalry was dead? Tabitha blushed as she stepped out, nervous. A quick touch of her hand to his had those sparks travelling through her again, her heart lightening. Nope. It wasn’t her imagination playing tricks on her after the long day yesterday. Her magic really did love him, the elements weaving between them so fast the sparks were almost visible.

“I think she’s found herself a bodyguard,” Tabitha chuckled, though her mind wasn’t really on the conversation. All she’d been able to think about last night as she lay down to bed was that kiss. The fire of it. The passion. But mostly, that it felt like coming home.

And in many ways, that part made her nervous. If her suspicions were correct, then Jarrad… well, he wasn’t going away anytime soon. And she wasn’t sure if that thrilled her or scared her silly. Probably a little of both.

“You know Tabitha,” Jarrad began, “it’s a bit more complicated than that. Cole is…”

The man looked as nervous as she felt, the fingers of his left hand fidgeting with the thumb of his right.

The principal, Mr Cooper, chose that moment to flap out of the main building towards them, brown tweed suit freshly pressed as always. He may look like a large bird of prey, but the man was a wolf with the heart of a marshmallow. She’d pegged him the moment they’d met, and he’d only reinforced the opinion with every encounter thereafter.

“What are you doing here, Miss Bright?” The man’s feathers were ruffled. “I just saw your girl as well, trotting up the corridor with young Cole Fleet. You’re supposed to be at home recuperating. A substitute has your class. Now get back in that car and take a day to sort yourself out.” As he ran out of puff, he seemed to deflate, imaginary feathers settling around him.

“Mr Cooper,” Tabitha began, but got no further.

“Don’t you argue with me, young lady. I will not lose a valuable member of my staff to exhaustion so early in the term.”

A wry smile twitched at her lips. “I was about to say, ‘thank you’, not argue.” The man raised a sceptical eyebrow, then marched back the way he had come, without saying goodbye.

“Well, I guess you’re going back home.”

“I guess I am,” she said, feeling a little like a roo hit by a road train.

“I have some work to do at the station,” Jarrad said hesitantly. “But can I join you after lunch? We have a lot to talk about.”

She smiled. “I’d like that. Bring something to eat. There’s not much in the house.”

“Done.” He moved in closer and she could have sworn he was about to kiss her. She leaned, eager, yet her palms were sweaty with nerves. For a moment, his lips hovered above hers, then he seemed to collect himself, shooting her a wry grin.

“I’m regretting that promise I made you now.”

It took her a moment to realise he meant promising her she would ask for the next kiss. By the time she shook herself out of her daze, he was already in the car. No chance for Tabitha to steal one herself, though maybe this wasn’t the best location.

“I’ll see you later,” he called through his open window. Then he drove off, and Tabitha was left standing there with a stupid grin on her face.

Shaking herself, she strode to her car. Tabitha had a lot to do, particularly if they stayed in Echo. A shiver of foreboding ran down her spine. Maybe she’d make a quick stop at the supermarket to pick up some supplies. Tabitha would need a whole arsenal of spells on hand to protect them from the Inquisition. She’d had a taste of freedom and she wasn’t giving it up.

No way this witch was running back to her cage.

* * *

The knockat the door came at a critical time.

“Door’s open,” Tabitha yelled, not daring to take her eyes off the potion on the cusp of boiling on her stove.

Glass bottles of various shapes filled the kitchen, though none were bigger than her palms. She’d cleared the store out of herb bottles and paper bags. She’d emptied each bottle into a carefully labelled bag, then spent the morning purifying the empty bottles—both physically and magically. Finally, she was at the point of crafting potions. And boy, did she have some nastiness to fill them with.

“Do I want to know what’s going into those bottles?” Jarrad asked, eyeing the mess warily.

“You can ask,” she replied, still looking at the potion steaming away.

Were those pinprick bubbles?

“But you may not like the answer.”

Theywerebaby bubbles. She rushed the mixture to her prepared bottles. “Make yourself useful and stopper these as soon as I fill them. The longer the mix has contact with the air after completion, the more volatile it is.”

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