“And you’re just now telling me this?”

“I knew what your reaction would be,” Dorian said. “And becoming a spirit walker is more important than being able to create clothes and do your makeup.”

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think of me?” My tone dripped with angry sarcasm. “Is that what you see when you look at me? A superficial woman more worried about stocking her closet than her responsibilities?”

The funny thing was I had always said those exact words about Fiona. I didn’t mean it to be hurtful though, and now it seemed I was just like her, at least in Dorian’s eyes. It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did. I knew who I was and screw what his impression of me was. Yet, it did bother me.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Dorian took a couple steps up. The strong features of his face softened as he looked at me. “I’m just saying that you may lose your magic, but you’re gaining power. Do you have any idea how many witches would love to be a spirit walker? Not everyone is cut out for it.”

I released my anger. Since returning from Flora I’d been on edge and moody, a ball of frazzled nerves. Thinking about what he said, the annoyance ebbed away. I’d embraced my spirit walker self and if that meant losing my physical magic, then so be it. The other option would be to refuse it and go insane from it. And what kind of option was that? So I wouldn’t be able to conjure items, glamour my appearance or cast spells. There were worst things.

“It just caught me off guard,” I admitted. It was yet another piece of my former self I was losing. But I tried seeing it as evolving for the better instead of losing anything. I was determined to look on the bright side even if my life was dark and scary. I couldn’t allow things that were out of my control shake me.

“So you ready to kick my ass?” Dorian grinned causing me to smile.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

“How did the talk with Mr. Wonderful go?” Dorian was driving my Jeep down Main Street. I eyed the strip of businesses lining the street, their artsy signs glowing above their doors. As we passed my store, Broomsticks, a wave of guilt gnawed at me. I hadn’t worked very much since returning home. There always seemed to be something else more pressing to do, like training for the impending attack I wasn’t sure would ever come.

“Don’t,” I bit out, shooting Dorian a warning glare. It wasn’t a secret that he didn’t like Aiden and vice versa. As far as I knew, Dorian had never been in a relationship so I didn’t expect him to understand what I was going through. Whenever he brought up my ex, I made a point to either warn him away from the topic or change it altogether. I wasn’t sure if that was because I didn’t want him poking the fresh wound, or if I was embarrassed about being deceived so easily. Sometimes I wondered if I looked up the word “fool” in the dictionary if I would find my picture. I was too afraid to check with Mr. Webster though.

“That bad, huh?” True to his character, Dorian didn’t drop it. Heaven forbid a woman (me) gave into one man (Aiden) and not him. It wouldn’t surprise me if Dorian had never been rejected in his life. I knew what irked him about Aiden was the fact that when we were in Moon, I wouldn’t swoon under his charms and betray my love for Aiden. I mentally snorted at myself. A lot of good my loyalty had done me in the end.

“We had a civilized conversation and that is all I’m going to say about it,” I told him. When he didn’t respond I looked over at him. He was shaking his head back and forth, a bemused look on his face.

“What?” I asked, annoyed with his unspoken words. Dorian shifted, realizing I was watching him. He glanced at me before looking back at the road.

He shrugged. “He’s a fool. If you were mine I wouldn’t give you up so easily.” He threw another glance my way. “I should send him a thank-you card though; had he fought for you, then I wouldn’t get my shot to prove to you what you’ve been missing out on.”

His comment half offended, half excited me. “It wouldn’t matter how hard he fought; he knows I’m resolute in my decision to take time away from him.”

Dorian snorted. “He either doesn’t know how to claim what he wants or he doesn’t care enough to get it.” He slid me a sidelong glance. “I couldn’t watch you walk away.” His eyebrows dipped together and his mouth quirked up on the side. The confusion on his face belied the confidence of his words.

“Even you will eventually tire of being rejected and move on. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who exerts energy on something with no reward.” I turned my head, looking out the window with a small smile on my lips. Screwing with Dorian was the perfect distraction for my abused brain.

“There will be a reward.” Dorian’s voice was low and smooth—promising. A small tingle prickled along my skin. He pulled alongside the road, turning the key to shut the car off and got out. I followed him, slamming the door behind me a little too hard. I stared ahead unenthused at the open field as Dorian started making his way across it. When he was fifty or so feet ahead of me, he turned back and motioned for me to join him. Stomping through the tall grass in high-heeled boots was not easy. I wasn’t sure how long it’d be before the magic left, but if learning to throw a punch could save my life then I’d grin and bear the bad news he gave me at the apartment.

“This doesn’t seem like it’s in your job description,” I told him.

“Spirit walkers derive from me,” Dorian said. “Since the numbers are dwindling, and there aren’t enough to take on the task of training, it’s in my hands.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket, setting it off to the side. A tiny part within me was excited to spar with Death. I had been fighting for my life for the past few months, it was nice to have a tangible thing to take my frustrations out on.

Dorian had chosen a large grassy field that sat outside of town. The glow of the moon bathed the landscape in its silver light. Ice crystals clung to the meadow and glistened. A few lazy clouds hung against the star encrusted sky.

“Okay, feet shoulder width apart,” Dorian stepped closer, placing his leg between mine and nudging my legs wider. He reached down and clasped my wrists in his hands, bending my arms up in front of my face. I squeezed my fingers into a tight fist; a smile playing on my lips, mimicking the one on Dorian’s face. He was wearing a grey thermal shirt, snug enough to see the definition of his strong arms and sculpted chest. His warm hands lingered on mine a little too long before he took a step back.

“I want you to punch my hands, alternating with your right and left.” He held his hands out in front of me, and all of a sudden I felt silly. When I hesitated, Dorian lifted an eyebrow and said, “Come on, witch, give it your best shot.”

No more prodding needed, I struck my right fist out and connected to the meaty flesh of his palm. A loud smack echoed through the night as a stinging sensation crawled its way through my fingers.

“Again,” Dorian ordered.

I struck, this time with my left fist.

“Again.”

Thwack. I punched with my right and then my left over and over, gaining speed and pain as my fists made contact with Dorian’s hand. After ten minutes, or it could have been an hour, Dorian caught my fist. My breathing was labored and a thin sheen of sweat blanketed my forehead while Dorian looked unfazed by my assault. Jerk.

“Good job. You’re not as fragile as you look, princess,” Dorian chuckled. That comment earned him a kick to the shin since he still had my hand pinned. He cringed but shook it off. A wide smile spread across my lips.

“Ew, she’s got a temper too,” Dorian said, releasing my hand and walking a slow circle around me. I pivoted my head to watch him, my body tensing up for his next move. He stopped just behind me, his body pressing against my back. Leaning down, he rested his face against the side of mine so that his lips were poised next to my ear. I bit my lip to restrain my grin from widening. Ever so slowly, Dorian’s arm snaked around my waist, his large hand slipping beneath my unzipped jacket to rest on my stomach. I ignored the tingles that his touch caused, keeping my head in the game. I concentrated on anything but the feel of his hard body behind me and the flexing of his fingers as he bunched my shirt, causing it to rise a little bit.

“Now, what do you do if your attacker comes from behind?” Dorian whispered. Since it was him playing the part of the attacker, the only thought that came to mind was, let him have his way with me. I’m sure that answer would have pleased Dorian, but we were out here tonight to train, not to flirt.

Instinctively, my hand began to glow as magic rushed to my fingertips.

“Ah ahah,” Dorian tsked. “No magic.”

Ignoring him, I reached my arm up and zapped his hand. When Dorian released me I turned around quick and sent my arm flying through the air and toward his face. I wasn’t quick enough though; he caught my fist midair.

“Nice try, cupcake, but when your magic fails that won’t work. Let’s try again, this time no cheating.”

“There’s no cheating in a fight,” I told him. “It’s play dirty or die.”

The side of Dorian’s mouth lifted up into a smirk. “You may just survive Holly’s wrath after all.”

I frowned. Had he thought I wouldn’t? If Death wasn’t on my side then I was in some serious trouble. I never asked Dorian when I would die, though I knew he knew. The idea was tempting but too scary to voice.

In position behind me again, Dorian asked, “What do you do?”

I remembered the countless movies I’d watched where women took self-defense classes. Though I couldn’t remember all the steps, I knew one. Rising my leg up, knee bent, I thrust it down as hard as I could and stomped on Dorian’s instep. He released me but as I took a step away he reached out and grabbed my arm. Swinging around I—and I’m not proud of this— swatted at his hand.