“I just want to make sure you’re okay with all this,” Thomas said. “I know you’ve been traumatized by the death of your sister and I need to make sure that you’re not going to—”

She raised her eyebrows. “What? Freak out? Break down and cry at a critical moment?”

“I don’t think you’re the hysterical weeping type. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I’m fine, Thomas. In fact, I’m more than fine now that I’m aligned with the Coven and helping to find this demon. And we will find him. This Alexander guy might be a dead end, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have other promising leads.”

Relief swept through him. It was nice to hear her being positive. “I’m glad you feel that way—”

She uncrossed her arms and her expression softened. “Now what’s with your hair?”

He blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve established that you do, indeed, possess pupils, but what’s up with the hair? I mean, it’s beautiful. It’s so long, glossy, and sexy. I want to thread my fingers through it every time I see you. But it seems strange on a man like you because you’re all about work and never about play.”

He blinked again. “My hair is about work, actually. It holds power for me. Earth witches don’t hold magick in the center of our chest the way fire, water, and air witches do.”

“I’ve dated earth witches, so I know you guys do that but I’ve never really understood how.”

“My hair is charmed to hold a reserve of power for me, like you hold your magick in the center of your chest. Except we have to cook up the spells we’ll need beforehand, draw the energy off them, and manually store it on our bodies in places that have been charmed to hold reserves…like my hair.”

She nodded. “Yes, with one of the complicated earth spells that I’ll never comprehend. Gotcha.” She smiled and reached out to finger a tendril of his hair. “So your strength resides here…like Samson? If I cut it, are you less powerful?”

“That’s not something earth witches usually reveal.”

“That’s…wild. And the whole thing makes an odd sort of sense.” She dropped the hank of his hair. “You don’t seem like the vain sort of man who would grow his hair this long for looks or style. It figures you’d have a purpose, a strategy. So, how else do you hold your magick?”

“I have a tattoo on my back. The ink is charmed to hold power for me.”

“A tattoo?” A slow smile spread across her mouth. “Show me.”

“You want me to take my shirt off.” It was a statement more than a question.