Willow POV
I hadn't seen Damian for three days, though I knew exactly where he was. Their bus sat at the edge of town in one of Mr. Spence's empty lots, a sleek black monstrosity that looked wildly out of place. Two days ago, I'd overheard Gillian from the bed-and-breakfast telling Sally about "those handsome men who brought in that poor dog" who had booked rooms from her.
His silent protection should have chafed. It should have felt like surveillance, like the first tightening of a leash. Instead, I found myself catching the faint drift of sandalwood and vanilla on the morning air and feeling faintly comforted, knowing he was near.
I hated how much I wanted to see him. How my eyes scanned the street for his dark hair, his broad shoulders, the way he moved like a man who knew exactly
