He had five messages from Circe, the witch who wanted his body, each more threatening than the last. He had planned on being well out of her reach by this time today, not just barely recovered from his completely failed attempt to kill Mace. But now he needed her… and pissing off a witch was not the best way to start a negotiation. The phone was ringing. It rang four times before Circe picked it up. “Yes.” The chill in that word could freeze the sun. “Sorry I didn’t make our date,” Jak said hastily, hoping the immediate apology might help. He added a bit of low growl to it, just in case that might help. “I hope you were dead.” The frost was still in negative temperatures. “That would be an acceptable excuse.” “Well, if you called my alpha to expose my little secret, you would know that wasn’t far off.” “Oh?” She was warming a little.
