Taming The Hunter

He almost tucked the phone back in a coat pocket when cool morning light glinted over the window above the sink—and he noticed a symbol that frost crystals had formed on the glass.

He padded over and studied the window. Sunlight fractured through the ice crystals in blue, red and violet. It was almost a mandala, though not symmetrical. A fractal of sorts, but again, more homemade than precise. Impossible to have been formed by frost. The only way was if someone had traced a finger on the window first, which was likely the case.

He raised the phone and snapped a picture of the symbol. He always recorded stuff that fascinated him. And his job made him extra perceptive for out-of-the-ordinary happenings. Eryss’s house was full of fascinations. She thought stones could heal? And now this symbol. And the full garden out in the conservatory. And reincarnation and souls. Talk about open-minded.

Perhaps a bit too open, he thought with a grimace.

Could she really believe she was a natural-born witch? No, she hadn’t said as much. She was simply someone who was fascinated by crystals and plants, which might naturally lend to the more woo-woo sorts of artwork like the one on the window.

She seemed too smart for that, a woman who would never blindly accept the unknown without the facts. Yet if she were a real witch...that was another scenario entirely. But he had no reason to consider it.

Setting his phone on the table, he glanced to his coat, which hung by the door. He didn’t wish to spend the next few days sitting alone in a hotel room. He could, but that wouldn’t be fun. So a fling with a sexy woman who could seduce him with her cooking and a conservatory overflowing with summer?

“Bring on the magic.”

* * *

Eryss woke on the couch alone. Had her lover left in the early morning hours? But had he walked back to town? No, Dane must have gone looking for the bathroom or—what was that incredible smell?

She shot upright and the chenille blanket fell away from her bare breasts. She wrapped the blanket about her shoulders and waist, forming a snuggie sort of cape, and then padded into the house, following the scent of cinnamon and...

“Bananas?” she said as she wandered into the kitchen.

Dane stood before the stove, spatula in hand. He wore nothing but the black pants he’d worn last night, no shoes or socks. The back view of him gave no clues that he was a nerdy scientist. Those delts and lats. Mercy, she was glad she knew her anatomy. On the other hand, who cared what those hard stretches of muscle were called? Oh, but what was that?

She touched his hip, above the three red scratches.

“Wild woman,” he said over a shoulder.

“I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”

“A deliciously painful reminder of a night well spent.” He turned and kissed her forehead. “I’m a bit of an early riser. And since I have no way of getting back to town without absconding with your car once again, I am at your mercy. So I thought I’d butter you up with banana pancakes. Gluten free, thanks to your almond flour in the pantry. And a nice lemon and blueberry syrup.”

“Wow. If this is the bonus round, I’m in.”

“The bonus round?”

She hugged him from behind. “Last night was incredible. Now you’re upping the stakes by making me breakfast. It’s not very often a girl brings home a man and scores so highly.”

“You don’t know me well yet. I have a terrible habit of leaving my beard clippings in the sink, and you don’t even want to ask about how often I do laundry.”

“Then I won’t. Can I help?”