Chapter 14
Henry
It had been years since he ended up in an uncontrolled shift. Usually it took a lot to force a shifter into that sort of thing, at least once they were out of adolescence, and he didn’t like the implications for control of his temper. Henry couldn’t stand men who lost control, especially around women, and fought the urge to immediately go to the backyard for a round of boxing with Silas or one of the other guys to punish himself.
But he couldn’t walk away from the witch. She looked so small and lost, sitting there in Deirdre’s comfortable but antique-filled living room, still clutching that weird bag. Henry cleared his throat and tried to figure out a way to apologize that didn’t make him sound like a dangerous animal. “It doesn’t happen often, you know.”
She jumped, startled, and her entire face reddened as she looked at him. “Wh-What?”
“The shift, like that. It doesn’t happen often. Just…under extreme circumstances.” It didn’t make him feel any better, just like it shouldn’t have been reassuring for her. “I’m not sure what triggered it this time, but I’ll figure it out and deal with it.”
Her face paled instead, and after a long second of staring at him in panic, she collapsed forward against her legs and covered her face. “It’s my fault,” she said, voice muffled against her hands.
He edged closer, trying to hear. She still smelled remarkably good, despite a hint of perspiration and fear. Adrenaline and panic, no doubt. He didn’t like it, her smelling like fear. Especially around him. “It’s not—”
“I caused it,” she said, shaking her head though she didn’t move from where she’d doubled over in the chair. “I’m a freak. I can’t control my magic. It…jumped to you and it knocked you across the porch and then you…changed.”
Henry crouched down near the chair and touched her arm. “Say that again.”
She didn’t pull away, which he took as a pretty good sign that she wasn’t afraid of him, but she didn’t look up, either. “I’m a dangerous witch. I can’t control my magic, and I ended up…hexing you. I could have killed you. I’m so sorry.”
When she looked up, tears stained her cheeks and made her eyes shine with misery. He blinked and sat back on his heels, not liking the hot, tight ache in his chest from seeing her upset. He hardly knew the girl, yet each tear was like a knife in his guts. Henry struggled for control but couldn’t resist the urge to brush the hair out of her face. “No harm, no foul. Just surprised me, is all. No permanent damage.”
He tried to smile, even though he didn’t feel like it with her looking so miserable, and couldn’t stop stroking her hair. It was softer than he thought. Not that he typically spent a lot of time thinking about how a woman’s hair felt. Something about her, though… Henry pushed the thought away and found himself distracted instead by the gentle curve of her ear and the soft sparkle of an earring.
“It could have been so bad,” Ophelia whispered. She stared miserably at the floor and shook her head. “I could have killed you.”
“But you didn’t.” Henry squeezed her knee and edged a little closer as his wolf side wanted to comfort her more. Which meant physical contact and a bit of overbearing reassurance that she was fine. He would have preferred to get his arms around her, but that damn bag was in the way.
“But I could have, and it might happen again.” Ophelia looked at him, her eyes still wide and filled with tears, and the depths of her fear finally struck him. She really thought she might have killed him. “That’s what happens when I’m around people. I’m dangerous and someday someone will end up dead. I just… I should just disappear already.”
“No,” he said, more firmly than he’d intended. He tried to tell himself it was more to put an end to the despair in her voice and the potential that she’d do something crazy than anything to do with how the thought of losing her agitated the wolf. He barely knew her. Hardly knew anything about her, other than she packed a hell of a punch. “No, you should not. You’re not dangerous. Whatever it is, there’s a solution for it.”
Ophelia sat up and started to argue, indignant like she objected to his reassurances, then her entire face turned bright red and she averted her gaze to the ceiling. “Um, I don’t think—”
It took a second for him to realize that he was still naked and maybe a little too close for her comfort. He wanted to laugh about it though, since apparently his nudity was enough to snap her out of the pity party. He’d have to remember that. Henry straightened up, enjoying far too much that her cheeks shaded purple and she looked everywhere but at him—except in little cheating glances that made him want to preen.
He stretched—which was just good practice after an uncontrolled shift—and choked back a laugh at the strangled sound she made. Henry figured toe-touches were a bit much given the circumstances, but lunges were certainly tempting. He didn’t want her to pass out, though.
Deirdre took her time coming back from the kitchen, but the witch’s approach spoiled the game since she called out, “We’re going to eat in the dining room, Ophelia, if you’re hungry.”
The other witch bolted to her feet, knocking into him with that damn bag, and nearly ran into another couch as she made her flustered way through the minefield of furniture. Henry rubbed his jaw and gave Deirdre a bit of a dirty look, which she ignored, then headed for the stairs to get dressed. Experience told him Deirdre didn’t let naked asses sit at the dining room table, even if they belonged to Evershaw.
He pushed away the visual, not wanting to think about the alpha’s bare ass at all, and pulled on sweats and a T-shirt. At least if the witch ended up shocking him again and sending him into a shift, he wouldn’t shred his favorite jeans. He could sacrifice the sweatpants without blinking. He paused in his room and checked his phone. Two missed calls from Nola.
Henry shook his head and headed back downstairs to get some food. Ophelia was a mystery he wanted to solve, and there wasn’t time to worry about what his sister wanted. Henry had already told her to leave him alone, and short of showing up in the city, there wasn’t anything Nola could do to ruin his day.
He even whistled as he went down the stairs.
