The Keepers: Ethan. Rae Rivers
“Liar.”
She tossed the cushion at him.
Ignoring it, he grinned and rolled his shoulders, breaking out into a yawn. “Are you okay?”
Besides the sudden rush of butterflies to her stomach? Yeah, great. “I’m fine.”
He glanced at his watch and groaned. “Damn, only two hours?”
“We’ve got by with less sleep.”
“I know but it still sucks. In my next life, I want to be an accountant. They get eight hours’ sleep a night, don’t they?”
“The honest ones maybe.”
“Cool, done deal then.”
She couldn’t quite picture him as a number-pusher. “But think of the adrenaline rushes you’ll miss. I don’t think accountants get to ward off an attack of crows, chase a bunch of shifters and flee from hellhounds.”
“Exactly.” He stood and headed for the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later and within moments, the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air, enticing and comforting, the machine quietly bubbling away as it brewed the liquid.
She ran her fingers through her hair and hoped there were no mascara remains beneath her eyes. She slipped into the bathroom to check anyway. Nope, all clean. But the bathroom smelt like him. His soap, his scent. An aroma that quickened her breath. Stifling an inward groan, she splashed her face and rinsed her mouth.
He was waiting for her at the couch, two mugs in his hand. He’d finger-smoothed his hair, his cheeks covered by a thin fuzz she found far too sexy. “No doubt, my brothers are downstairs in full planning mode. I find them more manageable with a dose of caffeine.”
She smiled and took the mug, the gesture as sweet as it was appreciated. She needed the caffeine kick after last night. The thought triggered a wave of dread as reality came crashing down on her.
“I almost lost my witch last night, Ethan.” The frightening reality they always feared and fought to prevent.
“Maybe, but you didn’t, Jen. You brought her home.”
“I was watching for everything but the hellhounds. By the time I saw them, it was too late. They moved so damn fast.”
“Hazel’s crazy and unpredictable. We do the best we can. Now that we know the portal’s open, we’ll be more careful.”
“And what happens when our best isn’t good enough?”
It was a fear they faced every day.
He sipped his coffee. He wore a ring on each hand, almost identical. The mark of a Keeper. Antique silver rings, each etched with a pentagram. A symbol of everything they were, everything they fought for.
Most Keepers only wore one. Ethan wore two – his own and the ring that had once belonged to his sister.
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