Nightfall (Grim Gate #1) - Emily Goodwin Page 0,56

night. In my bed. Next to me. Naked.

But I shouldn’t, and I have to remind myself to keep my guard up. Men like Ethan are dangerous when it comes to matters of the heart, and much more lethal than demons.

“Sure.”

I unlock the deadbolt and push the door open. Hunter races over to greet us, and I hold my box of leftovers up so he doesn’t knock it out of my hands.

“Did any demons break in while we were out?” I ask Hunter, and his tail wags faster. I turn on the foyer light and go into the kitchen, looking down the hall to my bedroom and feeling a little nervous.

“Benefit to having a small house, I guess,” I start as I open the fridge to put my leftovers away. “There aren’t a lot of places to hide. Though the basement has always freaked me out a bit.”

“Want me to check it out?” Ethan asks.

“It would make me feel better,” I admit.

He reaches behind his back and pulls out a gun. “Just in case,” he says with a cheeky grin.

My eyes go wide. “You’ve had that on you this entire time?”

“I told you I was armed. I also have two knives. One is brass, and the other has a silver tip. You never know what you might find yourself up against.”

I blink. “I suppose better safe than sorry definitely applies to demons.”

“For sure. Where are your basement stairs?”

I point to a door off the kitchen. “It’s cluttered down there.”

“Perfect place for demons to hide,” he teases.

“Not funny,” I say, playfully nudging his arm. “I’ll come with you, and if there are demons down there, they should at least have the decency to do some laundry for me.”

He laughs and opens the door to the basement stairs. Hunter runs ahead, which is really all the reassurance I need to know if there are actually demons down there.

“Is your house haunted?” Ethan asks, turning on the light over the stairs.

“No, thankfully. I looked at like twenty houses before finding one with no traces of spirits. I pay way too much for this little place too, but what’s that lame phrase? You can’t put a cost on a piece of mind?”

“I think that’s it.”

“It’s true. It’s nice having this place to shut out the world, though I do worry about it becoming haunted later.”

He takes another look around the basement and turns back toward me. “There are spells for banishing ghosts.”

“Do you know how to do them?”

“No.” He puts the gun back in a holster, hidden under his flannel shirt. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t work. I’m not a warlock with spell books.”

“Right,” I say and go back upstairs.

“You could,” Ethan presses.

“I don’t know how to do magic,” I remind him. “What happened today…it was out of desperation.” Hunter is waiting by the back door, and I undo the locks and let him out. “If I could cast a spell to banish ghosts, I totally would. But I don’t know how either.”

“You can trust me,” he urges. “I’m one of the good guys, and I know you are too.”

“As opposed to being bad?” I shake my head, not following.

“Casting a protection spell on your house isn’t a bad idea, either,” he notes.

“I don’t know how. I think my aunt was the witch, not me.”

“I saw you turn a demon into a pile of ashes. We both know you used magic.” He angles his body toward mine and steps closer. My heart speeds up and my stomach flutters. He’s such a gorgeous man—a dangerous, gorgeous man—and I want so badly to trust him.

“I have my aunt’s Book of Shadows,” I confess and then feel jittery right after the words tumble out of my mouth.

“You do?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Can I see it? There might be something helpful in there.”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding my head. I stay rooted to the spot for another few seconds, and then jump when Hunter paws at the door, wanting in. If there’s a way to cast a real protection spell on the house, I’ll do it just to help me sleep at night.

I let Hunter in and then go into my bedroom, cleaning up a mess Romeo made quickly before grabbing the book from my closet. Ethan and I go into the living room. I set the heavy book on the coffee table and sit next to Ethan on the couch.

“I’ve never seen one in person before,” he starts, reaching out and apprehensively touching the book. “Most witches are crazy

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