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“Youarejudging me,” I say.

I don’t know why that makes me feel a little hurt. I’ve given Sybil every reason to hate Memnon’s guts on my behalf. She’s just being a loyal friend.

“No. Okay, well, maybe a little,” she admits. “But, Selene, Kane was literally right there. How did you fumble it for that asshole?”

My throat works. “It was the Sacred Seven, and I was afraid of getting bitten.”

“So instead you got together with the dude whose house you burned down.” She doesn’t try to hide her judgment now.

I wince.

“Just tell me the sex was worth it.”

I let out a laugh that might be a sob. “It was worth it.”

Sybil whistles. “Damn, that good? I need to look into boning my enemy…”

In the background, I hear, “No, you don’t,” followed by the sounds of kissing and Sybil’s laughter.

“How are you?” I ask as delicately as I can.

“You mean, am I a wolf witch?” she asks.

In the distance, I hear Sawyer mutter something.

“You can breathe, Selene. I haven’t been bitten.” She turns her mouth away from the phone as though addressing Sawyer. “Yet.”

I frown. Does my friendwantto be turned? We’ve never actually had a serious conversation on this subject, and I just assumed she was having fun and not taking anything too seriously. But maybe I misjudged the whole thing.

Sybil’s voice returns to the phone. “I’ll have to get back before curfew.”

Oh, crap, that’s right.

“By the way,” Sybil continues, “Olga definitely got down with at least two shifters…”

She keeps talking, but I’m still lingering on the mention of curfew, because tonight I might have to break it. I have a meeting with the lycanthropes I have to make.

CHAPTER 20

I don’t wantto do this, I think as I step out onto the back patio of the residence hall, Nero at my side.I really, really don’t want to do this.

After the way I left things with Kane, I’m dreading our reunion. However, the lycanthropes showed me loyalty when no one else did. I owe it to them to show up, despite the messy situation with my former crush.

Still, I’m bringing my emotional support panther to bolster my courage.

I force myself to head toward the Everwoods. Even though there’s still over an hour left until curfew, I see several older witches casting wards at the tree line.

When I reach the edge of the forest, one of these witches, whose iron-gray hair is twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck, calls out. “These wards go into effect at six o’clock sharp. Make sure you’re back by then.”

I pause. “What will happen if I cross after six?” I don’t know how long this meeting will take.

The witch gives me an arch look. “Is the threat of a violent death not convincing enough for you?” she asks tartly.

“Um…”

“It’s spelled to note each trespasser’s identity,” she adds.

Oh. That doesn’t sound too awful. Then again, that’s probably how I get my name placed right back on the Politia’s suspect list.