Page 119 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

“My last name. Legally, it’s Williams. I changed it when I was eighteen.”

“Okay.” I picked up a piece of crust and ate it. “Why are you telling me this again?”

“You called me Pallás.” He took a drink of his tea, carefully set down the glass, and locked gazes with me.

“You don’t like when I call you that.” Not a question.

“I didn’t mind before, because that’s how you know me. Things are different now. Ronan Pallás is a role I play. Ronan Williams is who I truly am.”

I couldn’t seem to help the smile that rolled across my lips. “And you want to be your true self with me.”

He smiled, too. “Always.”

We’d just made love. I’d stroked, kissed, and nibbled my way up and down his strong, beautiful body. And yet, this conversation—this moment—felt far more intimate than anything we’d done between my sheets. “Thank you for trusting me … Williams.”

“You’re welcome, Lennox. Thank you for being someone I know I can trust.”

We finished our meal and washed up the dishes together. There wasn’t much to clean, but Ronan used the excuse of drying the tea glasses to push me up against the counter and kiss me breathless. Not that I fought him too hard.

Or at all.

Margaux, Maya, and Bronwyn returned in the evening. They called first to make sure the protection spell would still allow them in unharmed. Smart of them, especially considering that, in the past, I’d added in an extra measure of meanness to the spell just for Margaux.

“There weren’t any wolves watching us at my house,” she said. “I expected something, but I haven’t seen a single one.”

“Same here. There was no one at my house or at Wicked,” Bronwyn said. She seemed especially spooked. “I haven’t heard from anyone except customers asking when I’d be open again.”

“Nothing from Mason?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Our—Desmond’s—house is empty,” Maya said. “Of people, I mean. As far as I can tell, his stuff is still there. Looks like someone ransacked the place, though.”

“Floyd wanted that cursed book,” I said. “He was there with Mason when I went back.”

Maya looked relieved. “That’s probably what it was, then. I don’t feel good staying there. Thank goodness I don’t have to.”

“No, you don’t.” Bronwyn patted her friend’s hand. “There weren’t any hex bags around the place. In fact, there wasn’t any vestigial magic at all. Thanks for that, Betty. You did a phenomenal job, and I appreciate it.”

“Cecil took care of most of it. Fennel, too.”

Bronwyn gave me a tired smile. “You really can’t take a compliment, can you?”

“No, she can’t,” Ronan called from the bedroom where he was micromanaging Karen via my cell phone.

“Quiet down in there,” I said.

The witches and I took a seat around the kitchen table.

“Have you heard anything from Alpha Vincent?” I asked Maya.

“She’s pretty unhappy with the ex-mayor, but that’s about it.” She sat up in her seat. “I’m going to join the rat pack. Bronwyn wants me to visit my sister before I make any major decisions—and she’s right—but I like the alpha leader, and the pack’s been welcoming. It feels good to be with my kind again.”

“I only want you to be sure,” Bronwyn said.

Margaux nodded and let out a brusque little sigh. “It’s a good idea not to rush into anything after a major life event. I heard that on a podcast the other day.”

I was half listening to them. Floyd was up to something, and Mason knew what it was.

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