Everything looked halfway decent, and I flicked on the coffeemaker Ivy had already prepped for breakfast tomorrow. Mr. Cormel probably wouldn’t drink any, but the smell might help block the pheromones. Maybe.

Concerned, I put my hands on my hips. The only thing I might have done had I some warning would be to sweep the salt out of the circle etched in the linoleum surrounding the center island counter.

The air pressure shifted and I turned, but my welcoming professional smile froze as I realized I hadn’t heard the back door click open.

“Shit,” I breathed, tensing as I realized why.

I’d stepped off hallowed ground.

Al was here.

Ten

“Jenks!” I shouted, stumbling backward.

I prayed Al would start talking, but his elegant, chiseled features twisted in anger, and he leapt at me, white-gloved hands reaching.

I fell back against the sink. Arms braced, I swung both feet up to hit him square in the chest. Oh, God. I was dead. He wasn’t gloating. He wanted to freaking kill me. If I was dead, no one would know he broke his word. Not only was Ceri an idiot for making charms for him, she was wrong, too.

Panic took me when my feet went right through him. Gasping, I fell, sliding down the face of the cupboards to land on my butt. My gaze went to my spell books. Minias. My new calling circle was under the counter with my books. I had to get to it.

I scrambled forward. Pain made me slow, and as adrenaline pulsed through me, Al’s thick, gloved hand grabbed me by the throat and hauled me up. I choked, ugly sounds making it past my lips. My eyes bulged, and my body went flaccid. He shook me, and the scent of amber rolled over me. “You are a really—stupid—witch,” he said, giving me another shake with his accented word. “Sometimes, I wonder how you expected your genes to get to the next generation.” He smiled, and fear wrapped around my heart as I gazed into his red, goat-slitted eyes and saw his anger. He had nothing to lose. Nothing.

Panicking, I struggled. He couldn’t go misty to avoid my strikes and still hold on to me. I had a chance. Al grunted when I scored on his shin, and he let go.

I took a gasping breath of air. My feet hit the floor. Knees crumpling, I screamed when I was jerked back upright by my hair. “I’m going to freaking kill you, Al, if you don’t get the hell out of my kitchen!” I vowed, not knowing where the threat was coming from, but I was pissed. Scared. Absolutely terrified.