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I spent the next seven hours trying—with little success—not to dwell on what Jen had told me. But the more I turned it over in my mind, the morewrongit seemed.

I’d met plenty of witches and warlocks in my time. Physically, they were no match for an incubus like me. But magically? They wielded some of the most potent forces of any supernatural being. If Jen’s parents were in a car and suddenly realized the brakes had failed, why hadn’t they just stopped the car with a simple freezing spell? Even if they didn’t have time for that, a shield charm should have been instinct—an automatic reflex to protect themselves in a crash.

But they didn’t.

And that was what nagged at me. Two experienced witches, and neither of them had managed to cast a single spell to save themselves?

I just couldn’t see how that was possible.

My thoughts were abruptly cut off when BooDini floated into my room at exactly seven p.m., its little sheet arms waving in a clearcome alongmotion. With a sigh, I pushed to my feet and followed, trailing the ghost down the stairs. It led me straight to a chair by the fire, gesturing excitedly for me to sit. I settled in, and BooDini hovered beside me, practically vibrating with anticipation.

A moment later, the softclickof Jen’s bedroom door opening and closing echoed from upstairs.

As I waited, my gaze drifted to the ghost. Jen was right—itwasridiculously innocent. And while it clearly had a mind of its own, it was also... trusting. Something protective stirred in my chest. I’d always had a soft spot for those who were vulnerable. It was why I hadn’t hesitated to save a near-feral Hell’s Gate pup all those years ago. It was why I couldn’t shake the nagging doubt about a witch who hadpleaded guiltyto criminal negligence that resulted in her parents’ deaths—because there was something in her eyes that didn’t match the crime. And BooDini—technically dead, technically untouchable—was still something that could beused,manipulated. And that thought? Yeah... not on my watch.

A quiet cough pulled me from my thoughts, and for the second time today, I had to actively stop myself from rising to my feet and pulling her into my arms.

Jen stood in the doorway, wrapped in her layers like armor.

She wore a pair of charcoal-colored ripped skinny jeans, her ever-present tattered hoodie zipped all the way up to her neck, and a pair of battered old Converse so torn that flashes of violently pink socks peeked through the sides. Her hair fell forward, partially obscuring her face, her posture drawn in, shoulders slightly hunched, as if she were trying to make herself smaller. Invisible.

Her voice was quiet. “I figured it would be best to see what I’m working with before coming up with a way to help you.”

“Huh?” was all I managed.

Jen sighed, crossing her arms. “I was thinking we could go into town and watch you try to ask someone out—see where you’re struggling.”

I barely resisted the urge to visibly cringe. I’d assumed Jen would sit me down, maybe go over some pickup lines or dating etiquette—not throw me into the deep end. The thought of trying to charm another woman while she watched felt... odd.

But on the other hand, I wasn’t exactly dreading the idea of spending more time with her.

And it was a ten-minute walk into town. Fifteen if I dragged my heels.

“Okay,” I said, smirking as I stood. “So, where are you taking me on this date?”

Chapter 10. Devlin

“We’renot going on a date,” Jen snapped, her cheeks flushing as she stormed ahead toward the front door. “We’re going to a bar to see your flirting in action and pinpoint exactly whereyouare going wrong.”

I followed her outside, BooDini drifting along behind us. The ghost hovered at the threshold, gave a little wave, and then vanished back into the house. The night air was crisp, the scent of damp earth and foliage thick as we made our way down the narrow lane toward town. The only light came from the faintest sliver of moon hanging in the sky, casting everything in murky shadows. Jen, apparently struggling with the near darkness, slowed her steps, squinting at the uneven path ahead.

“I can already tell you where I’m going wrong,” I said.

Jen shot me a skeptical look, arching a brow.

“It’s a simple case of beingtoo sexy,” I joked—though, honestly, it wasn’t far from the truth. When women saw the version of me their subconscious wanted to see, I could have the personality of a grapefruit, and they wouldn’t care. Half the time, they didn’t even bother asking for my name before inviting me to their beds.

Jen snorted. “I’ll have to take your word for it, seeing as I can’t see the fantasy version of you.”

I sucked in a dramatic, fake gasp. “You mean youdon’tfind the real me appealing?”

Jen rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you save the flirting for the bar, hm?”

“I’m practicing,” I said, a little put out that she hadn’t actually answered my question.Did she find the real me appealing?

Jen didn’t respond.