The Panther and the Thief
Page 18
I elbowed Ryden. "You hear that, darling? A nice litterbox. And a scratching post."
He snorted with laughter and covered it with a fake sneeze—which is why, when we moved in a week later, I gifted him a second-hand, carpet-covered climbing tower, wrapped with a shiny red bow. He shifted and ripped it apart with his powerful jaws, snarling at me the while, his yellow-green eyes gleaming balefully.
I chuckle at the memory, lifting my steaming cappuccino to my lips as I switch mental tracks. I have my first client consultation tomorrow, and I need to finish purchasing supplies and preparing my portfolio and contracts. It feels odd to be going into a job with no secret secondary mission, without a plan to extract some magical item or other.
Tugging my phone out of my back pocket, I settle into one of the two chairs on the balcony and scroll through my emails. One from Nali, thanking me for the amulet I sent her. Its rarity bought her back the Patronage's favor and apparently salved her concerns about my life choices. I'm glad to have her friendship again, but it's a joy mixed with regret, because now I've truly seen her for everything she is and isn't—and although I love her like a sister, I won't be able to trust her friendship wholeheartedly again.
Thinking about trust spurs a twinge of guilt in my heart, because when Ryden and I stood next to a sky-blue Colorado lake last weekend and I drew back my arm to throw the Madstone into the glassy water, I couldn't do it. I pretended to launch the stone—even sent a tiny pulse to the lake's surface to mimic it plopping into the water—and then I secretly tucked the stone itself back into my pocket. I don't know why. Insurance, maybe, in case I ever need a power boost? Or maybe, Lord-of-the-Rings style, the Madstone didn't want to be thrown into the lake. Whatever the reason, it's hidden in a canister of bath salts under the bathroom sink right now—a place I know Ryden will never look.
It's the only secret I've kept from him. Surely my honesty in all other areas counts for something. He knows that I've kept all the talismans we took from my mother and the Duke. They're stashed in a lockbox in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator, hidden under a bag of apples. I'm not sure how all of them work, but they're mine now, safely out of the Duke's clutches. He can't use them to hurt anyone.
Laying the phone on my thigh, I touch the pendant around my neck—a new security measure against my mother's influence if she should ever come after us. The pendant, and Ryden's matching one, were gifts from Eisuke, his thanks to us for staying with him for two weeks while he recovered.
"I'm off to work." The sudden voice behind me makes me jump, and I nearly spill hot coffee down my front.
"Ryden!"
"Sorry." He steps out onto the balcony, looking incredibly sexy in a crisp white shirt and neatly pressed khakis.
"You look so civilized." I lower my eyelashes and bite my lip.
"Stop it," he growls. "You're doing that on purpose to turn me on, and it's not fair. I gotta go, babe."
"You sure you're going to be okay today? You haven't shifted in a couple of days."
He nods. "I'll be fine. Just plan on a run this evening, yeah? We can drive out of town, and I'll do a quick loop. That should take care of it for a while. Although eventually, once we've saved up enough money, we'll need our own place, preferably with some land where I can roam."
"Eventually?" I raise my eyebrows. "You seem to think I'll be sticking around for a long time."
He chuckles, but his jaw tenses, and the uncertainty in his eyes goes straight to my heart. I set my coffee aside and stand, pressing myself against him, slipping my arms around his waist and looking up into his face. His heartbeat thrums against mine.
"Don't look so worried," I say softly. "I'm teasing you."
"I know." But in his eyes there's still anxiety, a vulnerable heartstring that I carelessly plucked.
"Ryden, I'm not going anywhere. Ever."
He sighs. "You say that now."
"I mean it, now and forever." I press my fingers over that beautiful heart of his, where it beats the rhythm of his love for me. "Unless you kick me out, or treat me cruelly, which I know you would never do—I'll be here. If the Patronage or my mother or the Duke come for us someday, we'll fight or we'll run, together. We'll live, together. Because you and I aren't just sleeping together, or hanging out, or in love. We're something else, okay? Something stronger."
His hand cups the back of my neck, and he kisses me, soft and sweet, his fingers tangling in my hair. "I love you, Cilla. And I can trust you, yeah?"
"Yes," I say. "Absolutely."
Stepping back, he grins and smacks my butt. "Save me some of that for tonight! Sex in the forest, baby! Bring a blanket!"
"What?" I gasp. "In the forest? No way." But my body is already saying yes.
He saunters back into the apartment. As soon as the door closes behind him, I run to the bathroom cabinet, rummaging through its contents until my fingers close on the container of bath salts. I unscrew the lid and sift through the salts until I touch the Madstone.
It pulses once, a greeting.
I clench my teeth.
Clutching the Madstone, I stalk out of the apartment, down the steps to the parking lot. Ryden's Buick is pulling out onto the main road. When his car disappears, I step to the drain by the curb, holding the Madstone over the grate.
It rained last night—apparently a rare occurrence for Colorado Springs at this time of year. If I drop the stone into the drain right now, it will be washed away, and Ryden's trust in me will be justified.
Open your fingers, Cilla. Let it go. Let go now.
I close my eyes, my jaw tightening.
I stretch out one finger, and another—and then I open my hand and the stone falls.
It jams between two metal slats.
My heart is thumping wildly. Pick it up, pick it up! You might need it.
No. I should let it go.
I stamp my foot on the stone and it pops through the grate, disappearing into the darkness below. The gurgle of water reassures me that it will be carried far away from here.
I am not my mother. I will not deceive and betray the ones I love—not anymore. The Madstone, the thing that brought me to Ryden, the thing that almost tore us apart—it's gone, and it's never resurfacing again.
As I spin away from the drain, I feel an odd pulse through my body, like a tug at my powers, my energy.
I shake off the sensation and return to the apartment, pulling up my favorite music streaming channel on my phone while I tackle my to-do list. It's a good feeling, being productive, setting the tone for my new business.
But when Ryden's key slides into the lock that evening, I'm instantly more alive, a smile breaking over my face.
And then his voice, and his grin. "Hey, babe. You ready for a run?"
THE END
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