On My Way - Eve Langlais Page 0,72

at him, suddenly wondering how he’d found me. Grown men, especially handsome and successful ones, did not roam the woods at night looking to fight monsters.

I could think of only one reason he was here with me. He’d been the one stalking me this entire time, using his cover of being out of town.

“Why were you in the woods?” I asked suddenly.

“To help you, obviously.”

My brows arched. “Help me? Because it makes perfect sense for you to go for a walk in a dark forest in a snowstorm.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I happened to see you leaving the store and followed to make sure you got home safe.”

“Stalking me.”

He shrugged. “After our call the other night, I was concerned and thought it providence when I saw you leaving the store. I did follow, mostly because I planned to get you to invite me in for a drink. Instead, I came across your car in the ditch and stopped to give you aid.”

“Exactly how did you think the best plan was to quietly follow me rather than shout, ‘Hey. Naomi, want a ride?’”

“There are things listening.”

“Things we could have avoided if we’d immediately gone back to your car.”

“That wasn’t an option.” His lips pressed into a line.

“Stop creeping me.”

“Creeping?” Now he looked angry. “I came to your aid in case you forgot.”

“No, I didn’t forget. Makes me wonder at how convenient that was. Did you plan the whole thing?” The suspicion blossomed.

“Plan it to what purpose?”

“So I’d trust you.”

He laughed. “I’ve told you before, don’t trust me.”

“Exactly what I thought you’d say.” I wagged a finger at him. “Stay away from me.” I held up my hands, no longer glowing, but he stilled rather than take another step forward.

“I’m not the one you need to fear.”

“More things a bad guy would say. Go home.” I shooed him.

“Let me at least walk you to your house.”

“I said—”

“Shhh.” He held a finger to his lips and pivoted to look all around.

I was tempted to tell him that no one puts baby in a corner, because, hello, how dare he tell me if I could talk. However, the menace in the air hit me before I could be dumb.

We were not alone.

The temperature suddenly dropped, so cold it hurt to breathe.

Kane yelled, “Run!”

I didn’t think to question; I ran. Ran as if my life depended on it. And it probably did.

However, my body wasn’t made for hard sprinting, and I stumbled, hitting the snow on my knees, gasping for air. I had to get up. I staggered to my feet and glanced behind me at the empty shore.

No Kane.

No wolves.

Nothing.

Had he hoaxed me so he could get out of answering my questions?

What a jerk.

I walked quickly toward the house and could have sobbed when I saw my dock. Almost there. Close enough to see the lights shining from the windows through the trees.

Warmth and safety. Ooh, slippers. A hot drink, food. Like the cheese in the fridge and the pickles in the jar. Delicious stuff.

As I thought of all the things in the fridge and cupboard that I could shove into my face, I saw a ball of fire form, suspended midair. Or so I thought until a shadow moved. A figure stepped into an open patch in my yard, and I saw they held a flaming Molotov cocktail.

They walked closer to the cottage, and I realized their intent.

To set fire to my house!

22

Only one thought pulsed inside me: stop the arsonist. They couldn’t be allowed to toss that firebomb. My kid and cat were inside. But how? I’d never reach them in time.

As my legs found the energy to sprint one last time, I yelled, “Stop right there! I’m calling the cops.” No need for them to know I’d lost my purse during my mad dash along the lake.

The hooded figure turned in my direction, and there was such a sense of malevolence I almost took a step back. Was it Kane? Had he somehow gotten ahead of me?

Could it be Martin?

Or an unknown person who wouldn’t leave me alone?

In the end, it didn’t really matter who held the flaming bottle. I wouldn’t let them destroy anything else.

I held up my palms. Go, go, bluish fire.

Not even a glimmer appeared. Way to fail me, magic.

The arm with the fireball began its slow roll forward, only to wobble as the ground shook. Nothing violent, not like the night the house nearly fell apart, but enough to scramble the toss, meaning I still had a few