Romance Rules for Werewolves (Charming Cove, #3)(10)

Better to focus on her quick wit and the fact that she was willing to go toe to toe with me over this place. She seemed delicate, but she wasn’t. She clearly didn’t put up with shit from anyone.

Not to mention there was just something…bright about her. She’d been scared at first, then angry, but through it all, she had seemed to radiate this light. She was like a ray of sunshine after a year of clouds, and it was annoying as hell.

I liked my clouds. At least I was comfortable with them.

And she was a witch, for fate’s sake. They were entirely untrustworthy, and I wanted nothing to do with them. I knew it was prejudiced and irrational, but I didn’t care. It had been hard enough to find peace after the incident with the last witch I’d been involved with, and I was going to protect that peace, no matter what it took.

Which meant staying the hell away from her while the solicitors sorted out this problem with the deed.

I rose from the table and headed toward the simple bedroom that I’d called my own for the last year. As I entered, a tapping sound came from the window that overlooked the sea view to the west. I walked toward it and pushed it open.

A black bird sat there, its onyx eyes staring at me. A tiny scroll was attached to its leg.

“Really?” I asked the raven. “She couldn’t have just sent me a text?”

It squawked as if offended.

I raised my hands. “Sorry, sorry. Your mistress would never dream of something so obnoxiously modern. Thank you for coming.”

The bird preened, pleased, then stuck out its leg, presenting me with the scroll that had been tied there.

I carefully untied the note, surprised to see my hands so steady—I’d been waiting for this message for months. If the Jade Sorceress could help me, I might be able to find my pack. Every witch to whom I’d gone for help over the last decade had said they couldn’t undo the spell of the witch who had cursed me, but a sorceress might be able to, especially one as powerful as the Jade Sorceress.



I’ll see you. The seventeenth of this month, noon.



I stared at the note, my mouth dry. Finally, a lead. I’d been coming up empty-handed for the last two years, but now I had hope.





Chapter

Six





Isobel



The next morning dawned clear and bright, the autumn breeze blowing gently through the open window. The fresh sea air was invigorating, and I woke with more energy than I’d had in months. Years, even.

I yawned, stretching every muscle in my body, then sat upright.

Poa, who lounged on a pillow at the end of the bed, stared at me. You look like you’re in a good mood.

“I really am.” There was a lightness in my soul that was entirely unfamiliar. “It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.”

Was the weight named Tommy?

A surprised laugh escaped me. “Yes, probably. I’m really not as sad as I should be about him.”

What was sad was how long you stayed with him.

“Ouch.” I winced. My cat was ruthless. “But you’re right. I guess I just got comfortable.”

As if he could tell we were talking about him, a text came through with Tommy’s name on it. I didn’t even bother reading it—I just deleted.

Was that him? Poa asked.

“It was. I can’t believe I stayed with him so long.”

Don’t beat yourself up. You got together when you were too young to know any better, and you had your own issues.

“Well, I know better now, and I’m going to make some changes.”

Like your hair? If a cat could arch an eyebrow, she would have.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” I raised a hand to the long, dark mane that had been one of Tommy’s favorite things about me.

It could just use a trim, that’s all. It’s pretty lifeless.

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

Absolutely not. Would you, if you knew you were right all the time?

I laughed and climbed out of bed. “You know what, you’re right. I think I need a makeover.”

I could multitask while getting it done. Salons were excellent places to learn about a town, and I could perhaps get leads on local handymen who might be desperate for work. My grandmother had had a hard time finding people to help with the house, but maybe she had only looked in the most obvious places.

Anyway, I’d left my clothes behind in the ashes of my old life, so I needed something to wear that wouldn’t make me look like a murder ghost, as Rafe had called me. I glowered at the thought of him, then forced my mind toward more productive tasks.

I had no coffee or food, and I wanted to post the deeds to the solicitor, so I needed to go into town, no matter what.

I reached for my phone, grateful that I’d thought to pack a charger in my purse before going to dinner at the Regent. The full battery allowed me to check the account that the solicitor had set up for me. When the login worked and I saw the sum sitting in the account, my breath rushed out.

It was roughly half a million pounds. A giddy little squeal escaped me, and I did a twirl.

Are we rich?

I looked at Poa. “How did you know what I was looking at?”

Please. You think I haven’t seen a money dance in my life? Also, I know everything.