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“So where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

It was the truth. The pack must have moved out of their usual home after his visit yesterday, because he’d been trying to contact other pack members and not managed to reach anybody. He wanted to know about the mating bond thing his father had mentioned, because the more he thought about it, the more he was sure something weird was going on with his wolf. Still, maybe Tom could give him some information.

There must be a way around these feelings for Regan. If it was some sort of mating bond, there had to be a way to cancel it before it was irrevocable. He didn’t want to be mated, certainly not to a stroppy witch who was two thousand years older than he was and would no doubt rub his nose in it every chance she could get.

“Don’t know or just not telling?” she asked now.

He shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever you believe, you are vulnerable to Ethan, and I don’t want you anywhere near him. My father is evil.”

“I could make him talk.”

“Maybe, but it’s not going to happen.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Caleb was trying to think through this, but the answer remained elusive. “Maybe if we knew what they wanted you for, we could work it out. Any ideas? What is it witches do, anyway? Apart from love potions, that is.”

“We open the gates between the worlds.”

What the hell did that even mean?“I have no clue what that means. Or why you would do it.” Or what other worlds existed. Or a thousand other questions. He really had never understood the extent of his own ignorance.

“We guide the souls of the dead from this world to the Shadowlands and then beyond. We also have the power to open other gates. We could open the gates to Hell if we wished.”

Yeah, right. He’d think about that later.“Anything else?”

“We have power over the sun and moon. We can extinguish the light and turn the world to darkness forever.”

A deep sense of foreboding washed through him at her words. She was telling the truth—he could hear it in her voice—and the idea of so much power made his stomach roil. And she wasn’t finished yet.

“We could probably stop the world turning if we so desired.”

How could she have lived with such power for so long? How did she not collapse under the weight of responsibility?

Then she smiled. “We can also do tricks.”

“Tricks?”

She whispered a word and her jeans and shirt were gone, and she was sitting before him in a black lace gown that clung to the long lean lines of her body, molded her full breasts so her dark-red nipples peeked through. It was split up the side, one slender leg bared to the thigh, and she wore four-inch stilettos on her feet.

“Caleb,” she murmured huskily, and his gaze shot to her face.

Holding his gaze, she stretched sinuously, raising her arms and leaning her head back, so her red hair hung down behind her and her breasts lifted, thrusting toward him.

The blood rushed to his groin, and the heat coiled low in his belly. He wanted nothing more than to leap on her, but he was held in place by some unseen force. Or maybe it was shock. He didn’t know. His brain had ceased to function.

She rose slowly to her feet and stalked around the desk toward him. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and probably the deadliest. His brain wanted to concentrate on that; his cock didn’t care. It throbbed inside his pants, and he shifted to ease the pressure.

Reaching toward him, she trailed one scarlet-tipped finger down over his chest. It hovered over his groin, and he held his breath, fighting the instinctive urge to thrust his hips upward.

She ran her tongue over her lower lip so it glistened with moisture, and his brain immediately filled with a vision of her kneeling before him, taking him between those succulent lips. He gritted his teeth.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

She laughed softly. Then the black gown was gone and she was back in her jeans. “Worthless tricks, glamours for show,” she said, stepping back and sinking into her seat.

He took a deep breath, willing his body under control.

“And that’s it?” His voice was hoarse, but he was impressed he could speak at all.