Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

“Did Aiden say anything about the body? Or the motorbike we heard?”

“I really haven’t had a chance to question him.” I shifted to study her. “So, you and Zak? On or off?”

“Officially off. He does indeed fancy one of the newcomers and wants to be free to pursue her during the Christmas celebrations.” She glanced at me. “Apparently, the three packs come together tonight for a two-day celebration that not only involves lots of drinking and sex, but is also a time during which new relationships are started and old ones formalized.”

“Meaning I have to hope Aiden doesn’t find a nice little wolf to play with. Not this Christmas, anyway.”

“You’ve barely even explored that man’s goods, and you’re already worrying about when he’s going to leave?”

I whacked her arm lightly. “You know what I mean. You are, after all, the one who goes on and on about my habit of picking short-term losers.”

“Yeah, but Aiden’s not one of them. I think the fates have finally taken pity on your relationship woes and given you a nice break.”

“Hopefully a longish break given the amount of cobwebs that have gathered.”

“You’re fully capable of self-service, so don’t be whining about no cobwebs.” The glance she cast my way was stern, but it was somewhat spoiled by the amusement dancing in her eyes. “Besides, given the fact half the town was betting on when you two would finally get together, it’s pretty safe to say he didn’t indulge last Christmas.”

“Which doesn’t mean he can’t and won’t this year.”

“True.” She pursed her lips. “I can’t see it though.”

I hoped she was right, but I wasn’t betting my heart on it.

It didn’t take us long to get back to the café. Belle parked the car around the back and we entered via the rarely used back door. The Christmas lights twinkled brightly, washing color through the dark room, and the air was thick with the scent of apple and cinnamon. Belle had obviously been baking again before she’d gone to bed—a sign that, despite her fortitude, she was going to miss Zak.

We ducked under the plastic and headed upstairs to our separate bedrooms. The builders had worked their butts off and the roof was once again intact. There was still a heap of plastering and painting to do, but at least we were weatherproof and could once again start sleeping here.

I stripped off, climbed into bed, and was pretty much asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. But it wasn’t dreamless; instead, it was filled with portents of doom—of power seeking power, fancy black teapots with legs dancing to the tune of magic, and wolves running through forests, shedding blood and skin as they howled in pain to the moon.

I woke with a start, a soft cry of denial dying on my lips. My heart was racing and my limbs twitched as if trying to run with those wolves. To help them, even though that wasn’t possible.

I threw off the sheet and swung my feet out of bed. Magpies were chorusing outside and the hall was filled with light, so dawn had obviously come and gone. I grabbed my phone to check the time: six forty-five. Which, despite the fuzzy need for more sleep, was in reality only fifteen minutes earlier than my usual wake-up time.

I grabbed a T-shirt long enough to cover my butt and hauled it on as I headed down the stairs to make breakfast. Bright sunlight streamed in through the windows, warming the room and holding the promise of another hot day. I flicked on the coffee machine and aircon, and then walked over and lowered all the blinds. The Christmas lights we’d left on last night instantly brightened, sending flashes of color spinning throughout the room. Which was just as well, because I doubted our customers were going to get much in the way brightness out of me today.

Belle stumbled down the stairs just as I was plating up bacon and eggs for our breakfast. “I’d say good morning, but given the bags under your eyes and the un

happy vibes I’m getting, I’m gathering you didn’t have a good night.”

“No.”

I grabbed knives and forks and then carried our plates over to a table. Belle made us each a cappuccino and then joined me.

“Did you dream about anything in particular, or was it just the usual nonsensical mess?”

I gave her a brief rundown as I started in on my food.

“That whole power thing suggests that even if the dark witch is dead, he hasn’t finished with this reservation yet.”

“Chester did say last night that it was possible he’s set other traps.” I swished some bacon around in the yolk and added, “Except that really doesn’t make much sense given my dreams suggest it’s power seeking power.”

“But maybe it simply means that power is seeking to kill power rather than control it—that explosion almost took out both of them, remember.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I guess that’s possible.”

“But you don’t think so?”

I hesitated. “I really can’t say.”