Olivia straightened up from the door as it dawned on her: that was it.
She could lift the curse.
All this time, she’d locked away the part of her that was a witch. And that still needed to be kept deep inside—it was too dangerous to mess with—but she had also fled all ties to the witching world after she turned her parents into dust. She wanted nothing to do with any of it. But she still had an aunt in a powerful coven… maybe her aunt could find a way to break the curse that kept Jaxson from finding his perfect mate.
A sudden clarity came to her mind: this was what she was meant to do.
All her life, she strove to find the thing that would redeem her, make up for what happened to her parents. If she could accomplish this—if she could free Jaxson—it would be the one good thing she had been looking for. The one thing she was uniquely able to do that mattered.
But only if her aunt would take her call—which was by no means certain.
Olivia raced to her tiny bedroom and dug through her closet. She had a box of things left over from the fire. The few treasures she kept and hauled from foster care to foster care. It was small—a box for size-two dance shoes, which was how tiny her feet were at the time, back when they had money for lessons. The fire had charred the corners, and the lid had incurred some damage over the years, but it was still intact, buried under some winter sweaters on the back of her closet shelf. She hauled it out and took it to her bed.
Her hand shook a little before opening it. She hadn’t gone through it in years.
The contents were as meager and bedraggled as the box: a necklace of her mom’s, her dad’s eyeglasses with the lens broken, a dozen tiny shells from a visit to the beach not long before the fire, and… a tiny black notebook. Olivia snatched that out and closed the lid. She thumbed through it. Her mom’s precise and flowery print was so pretty, even faded after all these years. Most of the names Olivia didn’t know, but the one she needed was still there: Guinevere Damon.
Olivia’s hand shook a little more as she dialed the number.
“Hello?” The rich female voice that answered seemed tentative.
“Is this Guinevere Damon?” Olivia asked.
“Depends on who’s asking.” Her voice had turned sultry, but Olivia could tell it was her.
“Auntie Gwen… it’s your niece, Olivia.”
Silence. Olivia held her breath.
Finally, there was a long exhalation of breath on the other end. “For the love of magic… Rowan’s girl has come home.”
This was a terrible idea. Olivia knew that.
But walking into a coven of witches was the only way to get what she needed: the magic to break Jaxson’s curse. For that, she’d do just about anything. Which, apparently, included visiting her Aunt Gwen’s office in downtown Seattle.
Urban Damon Design was etched on the glass entrance to the coven’s graphic design company. It was one of the largest and most prestigious in the city, doing work for all the big technology companies as well as the cutting-edge start-ups. Of course, all their preternaturally beautiful designs were conjured by the witches who filled the company’s ranks from top to bottom. Olivia didn’t know exactly how they used magic in their work, but she doubted it was design talent alone that landed them all those big contracts.
She pushed the door open and tried to keep her chin up, even though she was a ball of nerves. Aunt Gwen was waiting for her at the front desk with a smile that reminded Olivia far too much of her mother’s.
She didn’t expect that particular heartache. It made her low-heeled shoes catch on the luxurious white carpeting just inside the door. Her aunt hurried to her side and looked like she wanted to hug Olivia… which just made her stumble back to keep out of reach.
It was both terrifying and tremendously awkward. She grimaced.
Her aunt looked pained, but pulled her hands back and clasped them together. “My dear Olivia, you cannot even imagine how happy I am that you’ve returned to us.”
“I, um…” Olivia straightened her blouse. “I’m not exactly staying, Aunt Gwen. But thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”
She’d put on her best office attire for this, but her overly curvy body and plain blouse and skirt were vastly outclassed by her aunt, whose trim form was elegantly encased in a perfectly tailored red suit. Her nails were like small daggers and likewise fire-engine red. All of it set off a beautiful mane of black hair that tumbled in waves down to her waist. Her aunt was super-model gorgeous—more than any female shifter Olivia had ever seen—and it was clear that Olivia inherited her father’s genes in the looks department. Either that, or Aunt Gwen was using magic to enhance her beauty, like Jaxson suggested. She was ostensibly Olivia’s mother’s age, but she didn’t look a day over thirty.