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My muscles locked tight.

“... Lochran?” I said, my voice wary, my body still thrumming with the need to defend, to destroy.

A dramatic, exaggerated cough echoed from within the swirling shadows—distinctly feminine, distinctly sarcastic. The darkness dissipated instantly, revealing Lochran—grinning from ear to ear—with a beautiful russet-haired witch pinned protectively behind him.

She arched a brow, looking between Lochran and me with the air of someone barely restraining amusement. Then, a slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. “Devlin...” she mused, eyessparkling. “You mean the incubus that got run over three times in one day?”

I felt the air shift behind me. A second later, Jen’s warm hand pressed against my back, her presence hesitant as she peered over my shoulder.

The moment Jen stepped into view, the strange witch’s expression transformed. Her eyes widened in recognition. In shock.

Jen went still. I felt her body shrink slightly, as if bracing herself.

The witch took a step forward. “Jen? Is that you, Jen?”

I tensed, my shadows curling tighter around me, the sheer force of my protective instinct surging forward like a hurricane—

Only to find myself met with equal force.

Lochran’s shadows billowed out, meeting mine in a surge of power that sent a heavy pulse through the air.

The witch let out a genuine cough this time, waving a hand in front of her face. “Cut it out, Lochran!”

Lochran’s shadows immediately dropped away, revealing him once more—this time with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry,” he said to me with a shrug, completely unbothered by the near power clash we had just engaged in. “Might be a little protective over my new mate.” His grin shifted—less sheepish, more... cautious—as he added, “And with good reason.”

“That makes two of us,” I said, my voice caught somewhere between understanding and warning.

Lochran’s eyes flicked toward Jen again, his expression morphing into something close to awe. “She finally summoned you?”

I exhaled through my nose, the corners of my lips twitching. “Not exactly.”

Lochran arched a brow, the question clear in his gaze.

I let out a slow breath, reminding myself that Lochran was my best friend. Not a threat.

“You?” I asked.

His grin stretched. “Not quite. My mate”—he tilted his head toward the russet-haired witch—“accidentally summoned me.”

I felt my own lips quirk. “Mine accidentally vacationed with me.”

The witch let out an exasperated sigh, muttering something under her breath before impatiently tapping her foot against the wooden porch.

“C’mon, dudes. You literally saw each other last week. I haven’t seen Jen in almost a decade.”

Before I could react, she ducked under my arm, breezing past my protective stance like it was nothing, and yanked a very startled Jen into a tight embrace.

“Excuse me,” she said, practically squeezing the breath from my mate, “but I have a friend to catch up with.”

***

Lochran twisted the cap off a beer bottle with a sharptsssskh, the sound crisp in the cool night air. He handed it to me, the bottle slick with condensation, before cracking open one for himself. Lifting it to his lips, he took a long, lazy sip, sighing in satisfaction as he settled into his seat beside me.

We sat on the porch, our gazes fixed on the two witches curled up in front of the outdoor fire. The golden glow of the flames flickered across their faces, their cheeks flushed from warmth and wine. Wrapped in thick blankets, they leaned into one another, talking excitedly—as if nine years of separation had never happened.

I let out a slow breath, something unspoken pressing in my chest.