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I wish Glinda was here. She’s warned me countless times about thieves and bandits roaming these woods. It’s the reason she created the magic barrier to hide the tower and why she insists I stay here for my own safety.

Gripping the candlestick tightly, I spread my feet wide, ready to defend my home.

I’ll admit, I’ve doubted her terrifying stories of the outside world, but as the clicking lock goes silent and the handle begins to turn, icy dread washes over me.

Blood roars in my ears as I raise the candlestick overhead.

If this bandit thinks I’ll just let him break into my home without a fight, he’s wrong.

My breath freezes as the handle slowly turns. Everything seems suspended—the storm outside, the creaking of the door—as a tall figure, wrapped in shadow, steps into the room.

Fear spikes through my veins, and I swing the candlestick at his head. It connects with a loud thud, and he falls to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Relief washes through me. Taking a small step closer, I study his unconscious form. The bandit lies sprawled on the floor. His lean, muscular body glistens with droplets of rainwater. He has a thin silver chain with a green gemstone pendant around his neck. My gaze travels over the sculpted planes of his chest, down to the contoured ridges of his abdomen until—

Oh, dear gods!

He’s completely naked. I’ve never even seen a man this close before, that I can remember, much less one without any clothing.

My gaze trails helplessly over him again, my pulse fluttering uncontrollably. He’s so… undeniably male. My entire body flushes hotly, and something deep within tightens, an unfamiliar sensation pooling low in my belly.

I can’t stop staring at the powerful lines of his body, the strength radiating from every inch of him, even as he lies unconscious. Part of me wants to touch him, to run my fingers over his skin, just to see if he feels as warm and solid as he looks.

Heat blooms in my cheeks, and I quickly snatch a blanket and toss it over his hips, trying desperately to ignore the thrilling flutter of excitement inside me. Mentally, I chastise myself. This awareness is dangerous—entirely new and wholly improper. Ishould notbe gawking at a nude man, especially one who is more than likely a bandit.

“Who breaks into a tower naked?” I say aloud, still in shock.

Finik sniffs at the stranger’s wet, short red hair, and I gasp when I notice two fluffy fox ears peeking up through the strands and a sodden red foxtail sticking out from beneath the blanket.

“A Fox Shifter,” I murmur.

Finik chitters agitatedly at the invader, tail flicking wildly, and then lifts his tiny head to me, as if asking what’s next.

But I’m finding it terribly difficult to think straight at the moment. My face grows hot, and I swear the air itself thickens as I stare down at this naked, mysterious Shifter sprawled out at my feet.

He broke into my home. So, I shouldn’t be noticing how utterly gorgeous he is, with his broad, powerful shoulders and chest, the ripple of muscle along his stomach, and the thick corded strength of his arms and legs. And I definitely shouldn’t be noticing the way his coppery-red hair falls across his brow, framing those elegantly pointed ears.

But oh gods, I am noticing. And it’s doing something terribly unsettling and yet exciting in the same measure as my heart beats wildly in my chest.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Even the heroes in my favorite romance novels pale in comparison to this man. I’m drawn to him, though I can’t quite understand why. He's beautiful in a wild, dangerous sort of way.

His face is partially hidden in shadow, and my fingers twitch as I fight the urge to brush the hair back from his foreheadto study him closer. Curiosity wars with reason, before I finally force myself to take a small step back.

“All right. We'll tie him up and question him when he wakes.”

Closing my eyes, I raise my hands and call upon my magic deep within. When I open them again, wisps of green smoke curl around my fingers. Focusing my power on the potted ivy near the window, I watch in wonder as the lush green tendrils grow and spiral out.

The vines snake around the Fox Shifter, lifting him from the floor and setting him onto my bed. Concentrating, I direct them to coil around his wrists and ankles like living rope, tying him securely to the bedposts.

Finik hops down onto the mattress, his tiny paws sinking into the quilt as he cautiously edges closer, sniffing the stranger's red hair.

Lighting a candle, I place it on the side table, next to the bed. My pulse quickens as I stare down at the Fox Shifter. When Glinda warned me about bandits and thieves, I always pictured rough looking characters, like the pirates described in the books I’ve read.

But this man is undeniably attractive. His features are strong and sharp, with an elegantly sloped nose, a powerful jawline dusted faintly with coppery stubble, and full, perfect lips. Thick, dark lashes fan across his cheeks.

A thin scar starts just above his right brow and ends at the top of his cheekbone, lending a lethal edge to his already handsome face. The pale silver color indicates it’s old, and I wonder how he came by this injury.

As I lean closer, I’m drawn once again to the two plush, foxlike ears nestled in his tousled hair. For all they are odd to me, they do not take away from his appearance. If anything, it only adds to his allure.