A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch （Glimmer Falls, #2(49)

They burst into the afternoon sunlight with a pack of werewolves hot on their heels. It was an outright sprint down the street, and Calladia’s heart raced as giddy laughter climbed in her throat. She only let go of Astaroth’s hand once they’d reached the truck.

“Prepare for blastoff,” she said as she started the engine and depressed the clutch. She put the truck in gear and hit the gas, upshifting quickly. Clifford the Little Red Truck might not look like much, but she had power where it counted. They careened down the street, steering around shouting werewolves. Soon the tiny town of Fable Farms was left in the dust.

Once she was certain they had escaped, Calladia let out a wild laugh. “That was incredible!”

Astaroth was white-knuckling the bench. “You,” he said, “are the most reckless, ridiculous person I have ever met.”

But he was grinning as he said it, and his eyes were bright, and below the bruise darkening his temple, his cheeks were flushed. When he burst into laughter, Calladia thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful.

Oh, Hecate. She was in trouble.

* * *

“We seem to have made a critical error,” Astaroth said thirty minutes later as they crested a hill. The terrain was growing rockier and more rugged as they climbed into the mountains. Douglas firs, western red cedars, pines, and other coniferous trees loomed over the narrow road, and snow-capped peaks stood stark against the slate-gray sky.

“Hmm?” Calladia said. The adrenaline from the fight was wearing off, and aches had started to set in. She rolled her neck, wondering if there was a hot spring nearby they could soak in.

“We forgot to ask Bronwyn about Isobel.”

Calladia’s eyes widened, and she hit the brakes. “Oh, shit.” The truck lurched to a stop at the side of the road. Calladia tapped the steering wheel, pondering the best course of action. “We can’t go back. Those werewolves were mad.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Astaroth said dryly. “It’s not like you skewered their leader like a shish kebab during a so-called ‘recreational’ brawl.”

She glared at him. “I was saving you, thank you very much. And I didn’t mean to skewer him. I threw the stick pointy-end first by accident.” She shook her head and sighed dramatically. “Guess that dinner date with Kai is off.”

Astaroth stiffened. “You were going to go to dinner with him?”

“Not sure.” She shrugged. “I don’t get asked out much, and he was more polite than the usual creeps who try to feel me up at bars.”

Astaroth’s jaw flexed like he was grinding his teeth. “First off,” he said in a pissy tone, “that werewolf was a lout and not worthy of your attention. Secondly, who has been feeling you up in bars, and are their hands still attached?”

“Curious if I removed them?”

The furious look he shot her made her breath hitch. “If you didn’t, I will.”

Whoa. That was intense. And confusing. First he’d been upset about Kai hitting on her, and now he wanted to chop off the hands of anyone who sexually harassed her? She laughed awkwardly. “Why would you care about defending me? I’m your enemy, remember?”

“Why would you stab a werewolf to protect me?” he parroted. “I’m your enemy, remember?”

He had a point. Calladia’s cheeks heated as she remembered how turned on she’d been watching Astaroth fight and how instinctively she’d acted to save him. Whatever they were doing was nowhere near traditional enemy behavior.

“I’ll call the Red Deer,” Calladia said, changing the subject to avoid having to answer his question. “I need to give Bronwyn my card information to pay for our meal anyway, since we dined, decked, and dashed.” She pulled out her phone, relieved to see a few bars of service. She searched for the restaurant’s contact info, then dialed.

“The Red Deer, Bronwyn speaking.”

“Hey!” Calladia’s greeting was a tad too enthusiastic. “This is Calladia Cunnington. Um, this is awkward, but I forgot to close my tab—”

“You!” The dryad let out a stream of creative curses. “Do you know how much babying I had to do after you left? The way Kai was carrying on, you practically stabbed him in the heart. He was inconsolable until I dosed him with enough whiskey to sedate an elephant.”

Calladia cringed. “Is he okay? I really didn’t mean to stab him.”

“Oh, he’s fine.” Bronwyn snorted. “The wolves heal quickly, and I got paramedic training once I realized how often they were going to kick off in the restaurant. Thankfully, they pay for renovations, and Ranulf has a woodworking shop, so we never run out of furniture.”

“I’m glad Kai is all right,” Calladia said. Astaroth mumbled something that sounded like “I’m not,” but Calladia ignored him. “Let me give you my card info to pay for lunch.”

Once payment was sorted, Calladia asked Bronwyn about the next step to find Isobel.

“I looked up our notes, and it says go northeast until you see two mountains that look like boobs. The town of Griffin’s Nest is at the top of a hill, and after that, the road forks. You’ll take the right fork down into a valley. Cross the river, and when the road ends, hike due north at the bat sign and look for a red door.”