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With a heavy curse, I trudged after him. He was waiting for me on the trail, but instead of turning back to the parking lot when I reached him, he turned farther into the woods.

“Exit is that way.” I gestured with my hand. He clearly had a shit sense of direction. Maybe that meant he’d just get lost in the woods one day. One could only hope.

“Got one more thing to show you,” he called over his shoulder.

I considered leaving him to it. I’d gotten enough information thus far, though there wasn’t much I could do with it beyond ask around. I hated doing that when it meant I had to interact with strangers. It was going to be much worse, having to do it with familiar faces. Even worse if those familiar faces turned out to be demon-blessed witches or rabid werewolves.

A rock and a hard place. Choosing to follow Dante was the lesser evil. At that moment, at least.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when we arrived at the clearing. I’d been there plenty of times in my youth. In big groups, with stolen wine coolers and cheap beer. Had been there alone with Colton many more times, making out with the stamina only two horny teenagers could have.

The natural hot springs were a local secret, something I thought would be long gone with the advent of influencers and social media. This place was picturesque, quiet, peaceful. All the ingredients for some idiot with a phone and a following to ruin. Apparently, that hadn’t happened, since the springs were silent, save for the sounds of nature.

“I was surprised to find these, considering hot springs in Connecticut are almost scientifically impossible.” Dante shrugged off his jacket.

I moved my eyes from the rock basin, the moss, the steam rising off the smoky-gray colored water to Dante’s arms. Tattooed, scarred, muscular.

“Something to do with an ancient fault basin and geothermal activity,” I parroted the long-accepted explanation for the spring’s existence. I hadn’t known enough to question it when I lived here, though I was now appropriately cynical, curious about the spring’s location and its connection to the ritual site.

My head was pounding from the lingering hangover and the onslaught of supernatural evidence that obviously existed in my boring hometown.

Then I realized what Dante was doing. Taking off his clothes. All of them. His exposed torso was peppered with an almost equal amount of tattoos and scars, the muscles etched into a six-pack. I internally berated myself when I realized how wide my eyes were. Dante was jacked.

“What are you doing?” I dragged my eyes from his abs to his face.

He flashed a smile. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

He tossed off his shoulder holster, guns, knives. Kicked off his boots. Another knife. What looked like a throwing star. The weapons clattered into an impressive pile.

Then went his jeans.

Sculpted thighs. More tattoos. More scars.

And then went his underwear.

Although I was not a prude by any means, and I was somewhat curious about what Dante was packing below the waist, I did not want to catch an eyeful, so I turned my head toward the woods. I scanned them in the hope that the witch was still lingering, and I could face off with her, though I wasn’t prepared at all and would likely die or be terribly cursed.

The sound of a splash told me it was safe to look back in his direction. Where he was treading water, naked, in the hot spring. As if that hadn’t been clear before.

“You’re going swimming?” I clutched my head. “Now? When there’s a witch and a werewolf to hunt?”

He ran his hand through his soaking hair, which looked like ink now that it was wet. “Haven’t you ever had a little fun, Harris?”

I put my hands on my hips, scowling. “Fun and the job really don’t go hand in hand.”

“Well, then you’re doin’ it wrong.”

Before I could argue, he dove under the water. I watched him swim, his body moving fluidly through the water. The day was quiet, except for the birds singing. The woods sheltered us, the sun high and bright in the sky.

“Fuck,” I tossed my weapons down, forming my own pile. They were almost identical in size. Yet mine was bigger.

I grabbed the bottom of my tee, pulled it over my head then reached down to unlace my boots, kicking them off before getting to work on my jeans.

I wasn’t going in naked, whatever precedent Dante was trying to set. I wasn’t shy; I just didn’t want to give him the impression that he had any kind of chance with me. Nor did I think both of us being naked when my body thrummed with sexual hunger was a good idea.

“This is a mistake,” I told myself, even as I wiggled out of my jeans, my bare feet reaching the water’s edge.

It was warmer than I expected, the natural spring keeping the water at a bath-like temperature. Probably a breeding ground for all kinds of bacteria and parasites.