“I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t shift back.” He bent down, leaning close enough the scent of his damp skin filled my head, and reached over my shoulder to caress the doorframe. “It’s very subtle magic.”

“The wards,” I said, distracted by his proximity. “The trailers have dampening wards so that any residual energy is siphoned away from us.” His eyebrows climbed. “Retaining magic makes us fidgety. The wards help us sleep. They flush all the foreign energies from our bodies and use it to fuel themselves.”

He scratched the stubble on his cheek. “They also prevent wargs from changing.”

“I’d have to ask Aunt Dot, but that might explain why you fell asleep.” No one outside of my family had been inside my home. Ever. Graeson was my first real guest. “The wards might have been munching on your energy.”

“Hmm.” The thoughtful sound rising in his throat caused warning bells to ring in my ears. “You think so?”

I shrugged. “Spellwork is her forte, not mine.”

For the longest time after coming to live with Aunt Dot I was afraid of the dark. She tried teaching me a spell that manifested in a bouncing sphere of light, but I couldn’t so much as conjure a spark. I still can’t. Her knack was self-taught using tips from friends she depended on to create our stacked ward system, and they didn’t translate to me. My skills tended toward reading magics from touch and being immune to glamour.

“Dell is on her way.” Graeson’s eyes went distant. “She’s watching over you tonight.”

A ripple of unease kicked my pulse up a notch. “Do you expect trouble?”

“Oh yes.” His nostrils widened as he inhaled the warm night air. “And she’s right on time.”

Leaning around him, I spotted a pair of golden eyes waiting in the darkness. “Dell?”

“Aisha,” he corrected. “I can wait for Dell to arrive before I leave if you want.”

Aisha and Graeson. Alone. In the dark. My question came out sharp. “Where are you going?”

“To handle pack business.” He reached up and ran his fingers through my much shorter hair. No longer brushing my lower back, it barely tickled the undersides of my shoulder blades now. “I like your hair this length.”

Feet cemented in place as he toyed with the frizzy ends, I crushed his clothing tighter against my chest. “Yes, well, I had to get it trimmed.” I worked up a scowl. “Someone cut a chunk of my hair off. I couldn’t just leave it jagged.”

“You donated to a good cause,” he assured me, lifting his arm. “See?”