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With trembling fingers, Alana pulled down one book and then another. She flipped through tomes and tables of content, one book after another. Somehow, she managed to convince her friends that they had to stay at Cohen’s while she searched for the spell. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, but Alana wanted to be alone when she found the spell her family had decided to put on her.

It was sure to upset her, and it would probably be for the best that she could cry and rage alone.

Alana was deeply engrossed in one of the magic books when she was shaken out of her thoughts by a soft knock and a softer throat clearing. With a gasp, she turned toward the noise.

Cohen stood there in a pair of jeans. His hands were tucked into his pockets as if he were a shy little boy, very much standing where he wasn’t allowed to be. His hair fell over his forehead, and once again, Alana was taken with how well the tan color of his sheriff’s shirt fit him.

“Hey,” he greeted her. “Sorry for just barging in, but the others told me you left. You’re here looking for something?”

Alana nodded. “I’ve got it covered.”

“I’m sure you do, Alana. You’re a very capable woman. Not just because you’re a witch with some pretty cool powers but because you’re smart. I didn’t come here to tell you how to search. I came to help if you will let me.”

Alana chewed her lower lip. “Cohen, there are things you need to know.”

“Same, Alana. Very much same.”

“Oh,” she looked down. “Okay. Well, I don’t know what the others told you ...”

“They didn’t tell me anything,” he assured her. “Jade was about to spill all the beans, but Lila stopped her. Apparently, whatever you’re here for is somethingyoushould tell me about.” He closed the distance between them, only stopping when they were a couple feet apart. “It’s probably a good thing ’cause I have to tell you something too.”

“You go first,” Alana blurted. Better he let her down easily before she went on and on about the candle and her suspicions that Cohen was her match.

He cleared his throat and walked away from her, rubbing a hand over his mouth. The line of his shoulders was tense, and as he started to pace, Alana got the image of Cohen as a trapped predator. It made sense. The man was a wolf, after all. And there was every chance he wascaughtwith her, and there was no way he would appreciate that.

Cohen was the kind of man who liked to fish alone or with a closely knit group of friends who knew when to shut up.

“I think that you might be my …” he cleared his throat again.

“Cohen,” she whispered. Her heart was thundering out of her chest with fear and anticipation. Was he about to say what she thought he was about to say? She held her breath.

Finally, he stopped pacing and met her gaze. “I think you’re my mate, Alana.”

She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think. All she could do was stand there, her mouth agape. Her brain refused to speak. Cohen stepped toward her again, his face a mask of unreadable emotion.

“I don’t know for sure because of the protective spell, but listening to the guys, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that you’re it.”

Alana opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out, so she snapped it shut.

“You really need to say something right now, Alana. I don’t know what’s going on in your head and how you’re going to react to this, but you need to know that ...”

“You’re right,” she blurted. “Us? It’s fate.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before Cohen was holding her, pressing their mouths together in a passionate kiss.

On the shelf, the candle lit itself again while deep in the surrounding woods, the ground shook.

EIGHTEEN

COHEN

Cohen couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why every time he kissed this woman, his world shook.

That’s what it felt like, anyway.

Alana Wixx was one powerful woman, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was a witch.

It had everything to do with the woman herself.