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been fine,” I muttered as I opened the door and flipped the light switch. In the kitchen Cheney placed the bag on the counter, then leaned against it and stared at me. Something swam underneath the surface of his calm gaze, but I couldn’t figure out what. He looked lean and dangerous—a predator watching its prey. I tried to ignore him and the nervous energy that swirled in my stomach as I ripped open the cat food bag and poured it into Stewie’s dish.
    “Here kitty, kitty.” I had little hope of him showing up with a stranger in the house.
    The sound of a phone vibrating practically sent me into cardiac failure. Cheney snickered and pulled my phone out of his pocket, obviously enjoying how jumpy I was.
     “Who’s Michael Christian?” he asked, an unfathomable expression on his face.
    I met his gaze. He knew everything about my past but not that I’d been dating Michael. Very interesting. It didn’t take long for anger to find its way to the surface though. Was he looking through my phone? “None of your damn business. Give me back my phone.”
    “He keeps calling. Rather desperate, don’t you think?”
    I reached for my phone. He stretched his hand out of my reach. “Should I answer it?”
     “No! Just give me back my phone. You have no right.”
    Cheney arched a brow, his finger hovering over the talk button.
    “Michael is my boyfriend.” I flinched. “I mean fiancé.” Saying the new title out loud made my stomach flutter. It was going to take some getting used to. “Now for Pete’s sake, give it back.”
    Cheney’s eyes hardened, all traces of teasing gone, and he stared at me as if I had just stabbed his mom. We spoke at the same time,
     “Why are you here?”
     “You have a fiancé ?”
    We had a standoff, of sorts, in the middle of my grandmother’s kitchen. The tension couldn’t have been hacked away with a chainsaw. It was as if every particle between us waited for something to ignite them. Stewie slithered around my legs. I broke eye contact with Cheney and scooped my cat off the floor. Stewie lounged in my arms like the fat orange hairball he was. He purred loudly and put a soft paw on my cheek. “How are you, pumpkin?“ I asked, glad to have a distraction from the strange man.
    Cheney reached his hand toward Stewie.
    “He doesn’t like strangers,” I tried to warn him, but he ignored me. I braced myself for the claws and panicked getaway, but Stewie didn’t object. He stayed perfectly content in my arms as Cheney petted him, purring even louder. The little traitor.
     “He likes me just fine.”
     “Well, at least one of us does.” I could feel Cheney’s eyes boring into me though I refused to look at him. He was standing too close. “Now tell me already—why exactly are you here?”
     “What’s your boyfriend like?” he countered.
     “Fiancé,” I corrected and he flinched. Curious. I was about to tell him Michael was big and strong and on his way over when the sound of glass breaking came from the living room. Cheney was gone in a flash. I dropped Stewie, and he bolted in the opposite direction. I ran into the living room to see what was going on.
    Two men with black hair and all black clothing stood in front of Cheney.
    “We’re not here for you,” one of the men said.
    “Where is she?” growled the other.
    My eyebrows pulled together. Did they not see me? Must have been distracted by Cheney…
     “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t let you lot have her.” Menace and the promise of pain to anyone who dared cross him saturated Cheney’s voice. The men lunged at Cheney as he pulled a small curved sword from the air. A few quick slashes and turns later, both men were on the ground, vital pieces spread all over the carpet. One by one the pieces evaporated.
    I had been a witch long enough to hear the rumors about the Abyss. Stories circulated that the creatures who made up our fairy tales and nightmares lived there, but I never believed it. I was woefully