“Alienor?” He turns around to gaze at me through bleary eyes. “You have wings, and your ears…”
My hand drifts up to my hair. “The spell worked a little too well. I lost you for a moment.”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “I should have removed your locket. The wretched thing extracted me from my body, and I was trapped.”
A breath stills in my lungs. “I knew it was supposed to absorb spirits, but—”
“What matters is that you helped me fight my way back.” He cups my cheek and runs a thumb over my lips. “I heard every word you said as you begged me to return.”
Gulping, I lower my lashes.
“Look at me,” he says, his tone commanding.
My gaze snaps back to his green eyes. Green eyes that shine with the type of love I’ve only read about in romance books.
The sun peeks out from behind the clouds, warming my fluttering heart and coloring the ends of his hair a beautiful shade of indigo.
“You truly were built for me,” he says, his voice breathy with wonder. “Because of your love, I am reborn, and I will spend the rest of my days proving myself worthy of your heart.”
The words are so powerful that the air crackles, or maybe it’s the intensity of our bond. I’m no longer the witch with the faulty magic, waiting for her moment to shine.
His fingers trace over the tips of my wings, making them shiver. “You are my perfect mate.”
Epilogue
SEVEN YEARS LATER
ALIENOR
I pick up the scent of my prey—freshly cut grass, vanilla, and mischief.
The trees surrounding our home are thicker than they were the night of the arrest, with tall chamomile flowers attuned to our magic.
Our wards are now so powerful that the intruders can’t penetrate them, but the magic makes it difficult to hunt down runaways.
A growl reverberates in the back of my throat.
Where are Geoffrey and Matilda?
At this time of the day, they’re supposed to be napping, but it looks like their father hasn’t stuck to their timetable.
I call him Henry these days because we both wield the same magic, sport the same wings, and can also shift from shadows to a hound. Besides, there’s no way I want to be known as the Boogie Woman.
A twig snaps underfoot. I jerk my head to the right, my gaze sharpening toward a gnarled ash tree. A large figure darts between the trunks, and I give chase.
Dried leaves and twigs snap underfoot as I rush in pursuit of my prey. I’m faster on four legs, but I’ll have to shift if Henry decides to fly.
Excitement thrums in my veins, and my tongue lolls to the side. I’m not even going to attempt to be stealthy. I’ve had seven years of sneaking around the Magical Council, and I've perfected the art of the hunt.
After retrieving his soul from my locket and his body from the lake, we returned to Grandma’s house to find enforcers rounding up Aggie and a few runaways into a wagon. Henry and I were too exhausted to intervene, but we tagged along to the facility where they’d imprisoned the other witches.
It took days for us to regain our strength, but when the Magical Council staged a public trial, we had to attend.
The judges sentenced the entire coven to death for fraud, imprisonment, forced labor, and assault, even though the men they’d turned into dildos were criminals.
Because most of the guilty witches had died hundreds of years ago and were beyond punishment, the Council sentenced Grandma and the others to death.
After raiding the library, Henry and I opened a portal into the prison and helped the coven escape. Now, Grandma and the others live in an isolated castle in the Champagne region of France.