She’s running from fate…

Shea Tedaldi is the only thing standing between her six-year-old brother and the men who killed their parents. Descendants of the ancient Etruscan magical race, Shea and her brother keep powerful secrets that make them the targets of the evil Malandante. They’ve been looking for a safe haven but the bad guys are gaining on them and Shea needs a hero, a guardian who won’t falter in the face of danger…

He’s looking for the key to break the spell…

Gabriel Borelli is a warrior born to protect the Etruscan witches living under a curse. He’s dedicated to breaking the spell and avenging the murder of his father by the Malandante. He won’t let anything—or anyone—get in his way. Not even the one woman who may hold the key to his quest…and his heart.

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, stop here.

“I am in need of a grigorio.”

The voice, husky and feminine, made Gabriel’s libido jump up and beg her to do him, even through the pounding hangover.

But her use of the word grigorio rang all his warning bells, even through the headache from the combination of ritual and the amount of alcohol he’d consumed over the past few days. Add in the fact that he’d only just gotten to sleep a half hour ago, and he’d actually thought about ignoring the damn door. But the knocking had been too loud and he didn’t want to attract the neighbors’ attention.

Who the hell was this woman who knew what a grigorio was?

Eyes narrowed, he checked out his visitor from head to toe, though there wasn’t much to see. Baggy jeans, good running sneakers and a gray hooded sweatshirt that concealed her face and most of the rest of her. She had something to hide. Hell, didn’t they all?

She couldn’t hide the fact that she was strega, though. Her purple aura pulsed around her, tinged with neon green. Stress. She was tiny, no taller than five-three, but he’d been deceived by size before. And was smarter for it.

Crossing his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the ice pick digging into his temples, he leaned against the doorjamb, paint flaking to the ground in a snowfall.

“What the hell’s a grigorio? Some new sex act? Since when do hookers go door to door?”

She didn’t flinch but her body stiffened. “I was told you would help.”

He snorted. “Help what? And by who?”

“Celeste.”

Holy fuck.

He had to work at keeping his expression blank. Celeste was one of the cursed streghe. She’d disappeared more than twenty years ago and no one had seen her since.

Still…“I don’t know anyone named Celeste—”

“She said all is done in time.”

Fucking hell. She had the correct code words. Was this the female who’d called Phil to speak to him earlier this week? How the hell had she known his call name and how had she gotten his address?

And what did she know about the grigori?

“What’s your name?” He flicked an impatient hand toward her hood. “And take that down. I don’t deal with people I can’t see.”

After a split-second hesitation, her hands emerged from the front pocket of the sweatshirt. Slim and pale, they trembled slightly. Not as calm as she pretended.

His eyes narrowed as the hood fell, revealing dark, rumpled waves that disappeared into the sweatshirt. With her head bowed, he still couldn’t see her face.

Annoyed, he placed a rough finger under her chin to tilt her head back. And pulled back as if burned.

Shit. Arus coursed through her like water in a fast-moving stream. And her face…she looked familiar. She wasn’t one of the cursed streghe. He’d memorized all their faces as part of his training. Still…

“Who the hell are you?”

She lifted her pointed chin and flashed flat brown eyes at him. Colored contacts. What the hell?

The woman’s long black lashes snapped down and her pink tongue emerged to lick full lips. “I need a grigorio. I was told you would help. I have… There are complications.”

No shit. “Honey, there’re always complications and you still didn’t tell me your name.”

Her lashes flickered again and her lips quivered. Vaffanculo, he really didn’t want to have to deal with a weeper. Not that it would’ve swayed him. He actually had more respect for her when, after a few seconds, her mouth firmed and she looked him straight in the eyes.

“I have a child. We need your protection.”

Oh, fuck no. Pushing away from the doorjamb, he backed through the door, ready to close it in her face. “I don’t do kids, babe. Whoever Celeste is, she wasted your time.”

He caught a quick glimpse of the shock in her eyes before her arm shot out to grip his forearm for one brief second before letting go. “Please.” Her voice sounded strangled, as if she didn’t use that word much. “My…child needs protection. If you really are a grigorio, you have to help. He’s grigori, too.”

Holy shit. How the hell had she gotten her hands on a grigori child? He knew every grigorio in the Americas. Had one of them been stupid enough to father a child without knowing?

Someone had screwed up big time. But even though he had a sworn duty to protect this kid, there was no fucking way he could.

He stepped back, his heart as cold as winter ice and his expression probably the same, if the look on her face was any indication.

She took a step away from him, her heel catching on a crack. She reached for the wall to steady herself but missed and his reflexes kicked in. He grabbed her arm before she hit the sidewalk.

A small body streaked from the darkness of the doorway to the girl’s side and a pair of dark eyes flashed up to his.

Fuck. His heart froze and the cold extended through his veins.

The woman’s mouth parted but no words emerged.

“Figlio di puttana.” Gabriel realized he was about to crush the bones in her arm and released her.

This time she did fall on her ass.

Gabriel barely noticed, his gaze locked on the child. He could have been Nino’s twin. Nino, who’d been only nine when that bastard Dario had killed him.

“How old is he?” His voice menaced like the low growl of a Harley.

The woman rose, dusting off her ass, then gathered the wide-eyed child to her side and dropped a light kiss on his midnight-black hair.

“Six.”

He cursed again, this time in Romanian and nasty enough to strip paint from the side of a building.

In a flash, the woman’s expression went blank, but the boiling-hot look in her eyes told him he’d crossed a line. She’d translated.

“I don’t appreciate your language, Mr. Brown.” Her frigid tone made his balls try to crawl back into his body. “You’re right. We’ll find someone else.”

Wrapping the boy’s small hand in hers, she turned and picked their way down the broken sidewalk to a muddy green Dodge two-door on the next block.

She never looked back. The boy did, just once, pinning him in place.

Air rasping in his throat, Gabriel drew in a huge breath. Then he cursed in three languages, one long dead, and slammed the door.

* * *

Hands trembling, Shea got Leo in the back seat, made sure he fastened his seatbelt then kissed his dark head before locking and closing the door.

Walking to the driver’s side, she made sure to check their surroundings, look for danger. Fear settled into her stomach, making her slightly nauseous.

In the car, her hands started to shake like leaves in a hurricane. It took four tries to get the key in the ignition and two twists for the car to start.

When the engine caught, she winced as the sound shattered the pre-dawn silence in this rundown neighborhood south of Penn Street. Potholes lined streets littered with trash. The air hung stale in mid-July, smelling like Leo’s sneakers when he wore them without socks.

Gods-damn son-of-a-bitch. That mother-fucking bastard.

Tears threatened to fall but she bit her tongue until they retreated. Couldn’t let Leo see them. Didn’t want to scare him more than he already was.

Damn, she’d been so stupid. But what the hell had she expected? That the man she’d watched drown in alcohol the past three nights would turn out to be their savior? What kind of imbecile was she?

How had she screwed up so badly? That ceffo knew what they looked like now. They’d have to leave Reading. Whoever had killed their parents and was looking for Leo was close. She could feel them, like a malevolent shadow creeping closer.

She would not let those fiends get Leo. But she was so tired of being alone, of being Leo’s sole protector. Icy talons of fear gripped her stomach.

What now?

Leo, bless him, sat in the back seat, staring out the window at the early morning shadows. How much of the conversation had he heard? Had he understood what that man had said?

That alcohol-soaked bastard was a disgrace to all grigori, men of unquestionable dignity. The asshole wasn’t supposed to turn them down.

They needed to get out the city. Needed to go far away. Needed—

Wait, deep breath. One thing at a time. First, they needed to get back to the apartment. Taking a deep breath, Shea put the car in gear then pulled a wide u-turn. Pink tinged the edges of the horizon. They’d go back to the apartment, get some sleep. Then she’d have to—

She slammed on the brakes as Mr. Brown stepped into the street half a block in front of them, a muscle-bound gorilla in worn jeans and a black T-shirt that stretched over his massive chest. He looked pissed off.

Join the club, buddy.

Why the hell had she been so attracted to him earlier tonight? Must have been the euphoria spell.

She’d either have to go around him or through him. Grigori had superior strength, which made them extremely hard to kill. Right now, she’d love to test that fact by introducing him to the bumper of her car. At sixty miles an hour.

“Thinks he’s Superman,” she muttered under her breath. “Arrogant ceffo.”

She slid a quick look over her shoulder at Leo, now staring out the front window. She really had to watch her language or the kid would be swearing like a sailor before his next birthday. If he were still alive.

No, none of that.

Her foot twitched on the gas pedal then she pushed it to the floor.

Mr. Brown just stood there, arms across his chest as if he played chicken with cars all the time. Maybe he did.

At the last second, she flipped the steering wheel to the left, feeling the car want to slide. She kept her foot on the gas and passed within inches of him. A hard grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. Her father hadn’t taught her how to drive their old Jeep through the forest for nothing.

In the rearview, she found Leo, his eyes so wide she could have drowned in them. Then she looked through the back window. Mr. Brown still stood in the middle of the street, hands now on his hips.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, he’s still in one piece.” Lucky bastard. “We don’t need him anyway.”

She didn’t add “because he’s an asshole who turned us away.” Leo probably knew understood exactly what had happened back there.

Glancing into the rearview again as she navigated out of this armpit of the city, she tried to gauge Leo’s response from his expression. It was like trying to scry in a muddy creek. Did he realize that she was all he had and, if she couldn’t protect him, he could end up like their parents or worse?

Okay, deep breath.

“Leo, you okay?”

He met her gaze in the rearview and nodded.

He was fine. For now.

But what about later?