Alpha's Witch (Midnight Oath)

What's the hardest thing for an orphaned girl? Learning to accept death because you've already lost so much? Or becoming so attached to the one person you have left that the thought of losing her feels like staring into an abyss?

I suppose both were true for me.

My grandmother was everything. She and I had left this cursed town years ago, because this town had taken my mother and father from me. The cause of their deaths had always been kept secret like some dark mystery. They'd only ever said "a fire."

That it was a witch hunt, I would learn much later.

Snow blanketed the earth, thick and merciless. I stood alone at the edge of the old cemetery, clutching the small wooden box that was all that remained of the woman who'd been my only family. The priest had refused to come. The townspeople had refused as well. Only a handful of crows were there, watching intently, as if they'd come to witness a ceremony.

I didn't cry. Not yet.

My grandmother had made me promise, as if she'd known it would be her last Christmas. Now I was struggling alone to fulfill that wish. But I couldn't have predicted what was coming.

Three days later, I was driving along the icy road toward Blackthorn Ridge. There I was. Twenty-five years old, the last of the Rose bloodline, returning to a place where people looked at me as if they wanted me dead. My red pickup climbed the hill as the wind filled my ears with an ominous howl. My only goal was to reach the mountain house as quickly as possible.

Then I saw it. A dark shape in the white snow covering the road. As I got closer, it became clear it was a vehicle, hood open, and a man examining the engine. Despite the bone-chilling cold, he was wearing nothing but a t-shirt, as if he wasn't cold at all.

The townspeople's hostility had already started to rub off on me. I thought about driving past. But damn it. I couldn't be as savage as the people in this town. I stopped.

I grabbed my coat from the passenger seat and put it on. The moment I stepped out of the car, I started shivering. Okay, I'm someone who gets cold even on summer days, but these cursed lands were really putting on a show.

I walked closer and called out. "Hello. Looks like you're stranded?"

He lifted his eyes from the engine and looked at me. That gaze made a cold settle inside me that had nothing to do with the weather. Then I got a proper look at him.

He was breathtaking. Jet-black hair, dark silver eyes, chiseled features, tall, muscular. Those eyes, piercing.

I was impressed. Just a little. Don't exaggerate, ladies.

He smiled, a sly, flirtatious look in his eyes. "Yes," he said. "You could say I'm stranded." He closed the hood.

And that was when I froze.

There was a massive log embedded in the front windshield of his car. Seriously embedded. Wasn't this man seeing this? Did he seriously think the problem was the engine right now?

"Wow," I said, my surprise obvious. "It's like a giant came and stuck this tree in your windshield like a big toothpick."

He suddenly burst out laughing. "I think giants went extinct a long time ago." Then his eyes focused on me with a meaningful look. "This town's past is remembered for its wolves and witches," he murmured.

"Hmm. Thanks for the interesting local history lesson. But I don't think I can find you a witch or a wolf right now." I pointed to my car. "What I do have is a vehicle. I can drop you off in town if you want."

He looked at me, those deep dimples appearing when he smiled. For a moment, I could have sworn I saw a silver gleam spinning in his eyes.

"If I'm not bothering you," he said, "I'd be grateful."

I nodded and headed to my door, then called back over my shoulder. "You won't bother me as long as you don't complain about me listening to Elwes."

A deep smile spread across his face. He grabbed his leather jacket from his car and came over. The moment he got in, his expression changed. My heater, which I had cranked all the way up, hit him like desert heat.

"I think you were a bit cold," he said.

I'm always cold," I said with a smile. And I hit the gas.

His eyes were on me from the moment we started moving. Under normal circumstances, being watched by such a handsome man might have been flattering. But the people in this town were so strange I wasn't sure this was a good thing.

"Hey. Could you stop that," I said, briefly glancing at him before looking back at the road.

He ran his fingers through his hair and smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. You're just so different. I couldn't take my eyes off you."

"Everyone in this town makes me feel different," I said, pulling a face. "I'm starting to think I have 'I'm a stranger' written on my forehead."

He laughed. "Are you always this sarcastic?"

For some reason, I wanted to be honest with him. The words came out before I could stop them. "Let's call it my way of camouflaging pain. I buried my grandmother yesterday."

I looked at his face.

Normally when you tell someone that, their expression shifts. Surprise, at least. But on this man's face there was neither surprise nor anything else. As if he already knew. But no one had attended my grandmother's funeral except the gravedigger who buried her.

That was unsettling.

A few seconds later he asked, "I'm sorry. Did you love her very much?"

"Yes," I said. "She was my only family. I loved her more than anything."

"I understand. Then why are you still here?" he asked.

Normally I would have answered politely. But I didn't like being questioned, especially not in the way the townspeople questioned me, like they wanted me gone. That "why haven't you left" tone was extremely irritating.

I turned to him and raised my eyebrows. "For Christmas," I said. "I just came to celebrate Christmas."

He wasn't surprised. On the contrary, he had the look of someone who understood perfectly well I was mocking him.

We didn't talk for the rest of the drive.

Finally we arrived at the town center. I stopped the car. He got out and came to the window. There was a warm smile on his face.

"My name is Joe," he said.

I extended my hand. "Eva. Eva Rose."

"Pleased to meet you." His expression changed. I could see the sly grin settling in. "Well then. Merry Christmas, Rose's daughter."

My eyebrows came together.

The day I came to town for the funeral arrangements, everyone had looked at me with that phrase like they wanted to kill me. What the hell was this "Rose's daughter" thing? Every person I encountered called me Rose's daughter with a look of disgust. For the people of this town, being named Rose seemed more like a curse than anything.

Just then, the old man who ran the town market, sitting on a wooden chair on the sidewalk, came rushing over, pointing his finger and shouting. "Don't talk to her, Joe! Have you lost your mind? She brings bad luck!"

That was the end of the politeness my grandmother had raised me with.

I stuck my head out the window and pointed right back at him. "I'm not cursed! I don't carry a contagious disease. I haven't even killed anyone yet. And I don't even know you. Stop talking about me, you senile old fool!"

I hit the gas.

But my anger hadn't finished. As I passed right beside him I leaned out one more time.

"I've talked to you now too," I called out pleasantly. "I really do hope I bring you bad luck."

I floored it and drove away.

In the rearview mirror I could see the man's face, red with rage. And Joe, doubled over laughing, slapping his knees.

I suppose it was time for this stubborn town to witness the stubbornness of Rose women...