The imp bustled here and there. He watched her without a word, trying not to be annoyed at how non-threatening she found him. No one else he’d ever come up against had turned their back to him. Of course, none of them could disappear into thin air either.

Minutes passed, and a new smell began to fill the air. “Are you making cookies?”

Connell had spent months tracking the imp, and now she was playing Suzy Homemaker, baking cookies. Was this really happening? Everything felt surreal. He watched her bend down to open the oven, half-expecting her to start glowing or sparkling like a cartoon fairy.

“Chocolate chip and walnut,” she replied, setting down a baking sheet.

A dozen large, gooey cookies were on the rectangular sheet. Connell’s stomach rumbled audibly, but he ignored it.

The imp lifted a brow. “Do you want one?”

“No,” he said curtly.

His stomach growled again, and he closed his eyes in irritation. He’d had a huge lunch at a nearby inn, but he was used to four large meals a day, at least half of which he ate communally with the pack.

Connell took a deep breath. “I don’t believe you didn’t do this. Or one of the others like you. If it had been a witch, I’d be dead right now.”

The imp cocked her head and stared at him with that same unnerving calm from before. He shifted, suddenly more warm than angry.

Why did she have to be so damn cute? He didn’t even like Asian girls. He went for tall, busty blondes like Riley.

Don’t waste time thinking about that mess, he reminded himself.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true,” she said, still studying him. “And I can’t tell what’s wrong with you yet, so I’m not ruling anything out. Witches included. How long have you been this way? Start at the beginning.”

Her tone made it a command. He wanted to shake his head in disbelief. The imp looked like jailbait, and yet she issued orders like a general. She had the innate authority to back it up too. Connell was an alpha, but he wanted to bow down to her. It was unnerving.

“How old are you?” he asked suspiciously.

“How old do I look?”

The answer was so cheeky that he wanted to grab her. But putting his hands on her was a bad idea.

When he didn’t answer, she dropped her shoulders. “Start at the beginning,” she repeated, a trace more gently this time.

Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair until it stood on end. Could he trust her? Did he even have a choice?

“If you want me to help, you have to explain what happened to you.”

He stepped to her aggressively, eyes flashing green fire. “I didn’t come all this way to chat, little girl. I came here so you could fix me. Even if you didn’t do it—if an Elemental didn’t strip my wolf away—you can put it back. You have that power. It’s what you’re supposed to do.”

Connell expected her to warily back away. But the imp stood her ground and met his stare. Her eyes were kinder than he expected, filled with sympathy.

He hated it.

“That isn’t what we do. Elementals aren’t healers. We’re soldiers. I can’t fix you, not yet. I don’t even know how this happened. You have to tell me. And it’s Logan, not little girl.”

Connell blinked. “Like the airport?”

Logan scowled at him. And like everything else about her, it was adorable. Shit. He was not attracted to cute.

“Like the Wolverine,” Logan snapped with a ferocious frown on her face.

Still adorable.

Connell flared his nostrils. What the hell was he supposed to do now? There was no trace of a lie in her scent. And despite losing his wolf, he could still tell when others lied to him. Like Riley. And he knew from first-hand experience what a skilled liar she was.

Logan had to be telling the truth. And if she wasn’t, he didn’t have another alternative. The witches his pack contacted after his attack hadn’t known how to help him. The healer his father had found had taken one look and said it was beyond his skill. He had nothing to lose by telling Logan what little he knew.

“I don’t know how it happened. Whatever it was, I was out for most of it,” he said, reaching for the quiche at the end of the counter. It was ham and tomato, conveniently cut into quarters. He inhaled one piece and reached for another.

“Help yourself, why don’t you?” she said in a neutral tone as he bit into the second piece.

“I’ve tracked you through four different countries. I’m hungry,” he growled.

The thick wedge was good. So was the dirty look Logan was giving him. It made him feel alive again.

Book 1: Fire
Book 2: Air, Available November 28th
Book 3: Water, Coming Soon