NOLA REYNOLDS

The gray-eyed man had been speaking too fast for me to understand, the ding of his baritone swirling dimly in my ears until he paused, his eyes searching mine to know if I had understood.

If I was going to bolt the way I had always been.

The pounding on the door reverberated in my head painfully as I tried to concentrate on the jumble of words that flew from his lips.

It was something about the witch's curse that had stuck with him for generations. Something that was only starting to unfold now, after he had claimed me.

Strike one for the hag, that insufferable woman! Something...