She grinned. “Possibly.”
“Did he say about what?”
“No, but the gossips were in full flight today, and I couldn’t help but listen in when I heard the Marin name mentioned. Apparently three women have arrived at the compound from the South Australian pack via the exchange program. According to the gossips, Zak’s taken quite a shine to one of them.”
The exchange program was a worldwide agreement between all werewolf packs that allowed those in search of a mate to go outside their own pack to do so. It was a means of stopping the packs from becoming too inbred—something witches also had to be wary of.
I raised my eyebrows. “I wouldn’t have thought Zak the type to be settling down. Not yet, anyway.”
“Love sometimes has a way of clubbing you over the head when you least expect it.” She pursed her lips. “Of course, in your case, it’s been a wet fish, which would explain your many very bad choices over the years.”
“I refute your use of many,” I said mildly. “There’s only been two. The rest were mere infatuations.”
“Losers one and all, and totally undeserving of your heart.”
“So I discovered. But we were talking about you, not me, so stop changing the subject.”
She grinned. “If it is true, then I’ll be sad to lose the good times, but we’ll still be friends. And hey, let’s face it—I won’t be single for long unless I wish it.”
I raised my mug and tapped it against hers. “Here’s to being hotly pursued by even hotter men.”
“Indeed.” She paused, her gaze narrowing. ?
?Speaking of hot—or rather, its antithesis—Ashworth is marching toward the café, and he has another witch in tow.”
“Do we know him?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Can’t tell.”
“You can’t read him?”
“No. There’s some sort of magical interference, which is rather frustrating.”
But not surprising if said witch was a heretic hunter. The last thing he’d want was a rogue witch reading his thoughts or possibly even controlling his mind. “You’d better skedaddle.”
“Do you need the car?” She rose, grabbed her cup, and raced over to the counter.
“I’m going back to Aiden’s tonight, but I can catch a cab easily enough.”
“Great.” She grabbed her handbag from under the counter, then snagged keys off the hook and wiggled her fingers. “Have fun.”
“Later tonight, maybe. Right now, unlikely.” My voice was dry.
Her grin flashed, then she was gone. I slid her cake closer and tried to ignore the butterflies stirring in my stomach as I grabbed the spoon and started eating.
But even though I’d been forewarned about Ashworth’s arrival, I still jumped when the bell above the door chimed merrily. I turned and watched him and a second man come in. The other man was a tall and middle-aged, with hair such a deep crimson it gleamed purple and eyes so light the silver of his irises was almost indistinguishable from the whites. His power rolled before him like a wave, a force so strong and heated it snatched my breath and had sweat breaking out across my skin.
Thankfully, he wasn’t someone I knew.
But he certainly was someone I didn’t want to know.
“Lizzie Grace,” Ashworth said, as he closed the door, “I’d like you to meet Chester Ashworth.”
“No relation to Ira,” the taller man added. He strode toward me and stuck out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
I had no choice but to shake his hand. His energy crawled across my skin, an inferno of magic that tested and tasted mine, causing the charms at my neck to flare in response. Ashworth had done exactly the same thing when we’d first met, but this man’s magic felt more invasive. More knowing.
I tugged my hand free and resisted the urge to wipe my palm. “I thought there was a third witch coming in? One that was supposed to be interviewed for the position here?”