by Eva Chase
“You—” She cut herself off with a strangled sound and grabbed my arm, yanking me into the room. She pushed the door shut with her back braced against it. It connected with the frame with a thud.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered. “No, don’t tell me yet. Wait a second.”
For the second time in a week, I watched Rose will the magic out of her body. The spell she was casting didn’t look as dramatic as that moment when she’d whipped herself right out of my apartment in an instant with a tremor of energy so potent it had raised the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck. The movements of her arms and feet now were slower, more solid. But I still felt a tingle pass through me, seeing her in motion. I wasn’t sure how much that sensation was the magic itself and how much my own awe.
Rose was always pretty. When she was working her magic… I’d never seen anything more gorgeous, anywhere I’d traveled in the world. Beauty and strength and passion melded into one.
Awe was definitely the right word for what I felt. We wouldn’t get into the other emotions that might be stirring around in my chest—or lower down.
“All right,” Rose said with a smile, lowering her hands. “We don’t have to worry about being heard now. Being sneaky got a whole lot easier with my spark kindled.”
I chuckled. “I’ll bet.” I finally managed to tear my gaze away from her to take in the room.
So this was Rose’s bedroom. Her bed, with a mint green duvet embroidered with a vine pattern along the edges. One wall all full of bookshelves—packed solid with books, of course. And… several novels scattered on the hardwood floor around her armchair. I glanced back to her with an eyebrow raised.
Rose waved off the implied question. She sank down on the floor by the books, folding her legs under her. Her jeans hugged her curves and the spaghetti strap of her black tank top was dangerously close to slipping over the peak of one slim, pale shoulder. I schooled my eyes on her face as I hunkered down next to her.
“You can tell me what you’re doing here now,” she said—lightly, so I knew it wasn’t a way of telling me to leave.
“I heard about your fiancé,” I said. Tyler had come running into the garage babbling the whole story. And then we’d spent a couple hours cleaning up the blood that had dribbled on the driver’s seat and inner door of Derek’s Mercedes. I wasn’t sure if him driving back here in that state was impressive or imbecilic. Possibly both?
“He’s not my fiancé,” Rose said, her back tensing. She frowned at the books. “But yeah. It’s not good either way.”
“Am I right in guessing Damon had something to do with it?”
Rose’s gaze darted up. “Is it that obvious?”
I gave her a half smile. “To someone who knows the guy.” Who knew how that guy looked at Rose anytime she was in his view. If I’d heard that Damon had murdered Derek, I didn’t think I’d have been surprised.
Hell, I wasn’t sure if I’d go that far myself, but I couldn’t say I’d have pushed Derek out of the way of a speeding car if the situation presented itself either.
Rose rubbed her face. “He sicced some of the guys in that gang he works with on Derek. Because he thought it would help. But I’m pretty sure everything’s just more of a mess now.”
“So you… decided to make a mess with your books too?”
A laugh hitched out of her. She clapped her hand over her mouth. But when she lowered it, she was still smiling, if only a little.
“I don’t know,” she said, nudging the nearest book with her fingertips. From the covers, they were mostly romance novels—bodice-ripper historicals and more modern looking ones—along with a few that looked like various types of fantasy. “I’ve spent so much time buried in books. Trying to figure out what was missing in my life. Connecting with the characters. Hoping somehow they’d prepare me for being a grown-up and all that comes with it.”
Her lips twisted. “I’m twenty-five in six weeks and sometimes I hardly feel like I know anything. None of these helped at all, not really. I’ve learned more about my community and all the things wrong with it in the last month than all those years before…”
“That’s not so strange,” I said. “You know what you’ve been presented with. I had no idea what life was like outside this town until I went to find out just a few years ago. I experienced a hell of a lot of amazing things, sure, but I also ran into all kinds of people and attitudes I’d rather weren’t part of my world.” And man, what a wake-up call that had been. It must be so much harder for her, when she’d dedicated so much of herself to being a part of her community.
“I think it’s a little more excusable in your case,” she said. “Your world is a whole lot bigger than my witching one.”
“Maybe so. But now you know. You can act on what you know.”
“Yeah.” She didn’t look reassured.
“I’ve got to tell you,” I said, “I always liked to tease you about how much you loved reading, but I bet you did learn an awful lot that way. Different perspectives. Different lives. Kind of like traveling, but without having to leave your room.”
“So, the coward’s way of traveling.”
“Rose.” I waited until she looked up at me. “I know you. The last thing you are is a coward.” How could she think that even for a second? She’d gone against every rule she’d been taught to protect herself, to follow her heart. She was standing firm with the other guys even when it could be her life at stake. I’d admired her plenty back when we were kids, but now… Now she put me to shame.
“If I’m not a coward, then why do I feel so scared?” she burst out. “I was going to tell him—I was going to tell my dad the whole thing about Celestine and Derek and— But then Derek came in and now my dad is furious about the unsparked. And there’s still this little part of me that’s not even completely sure he’s not worse than both of them. I keep thinking I have a handle on what’s happening to me—to us—and then I get thrown for another loop…”
She made a frustrated sound and shoved her hands back into her hair. My chest tightened. I eased closer to her, setting my hand on her shoulder. On that warm, bare skin. Fuck, I couldn’t think about her like that right now. She needed me to comfort her.
She already had four other guys for anything more than that.
Scooting across the last few inches between us, she leaned into me. I stroked my thumb over the peak of her shoulder. Her eyes slid closed, but her mouth stayed tight and crooked.
“I should be able to do better than this,” she said in a low, ragged voice. “I asked them to be with me, I swore myself to them, and now I can’t even figure out how to admit what I’ve done to my own dad. And every day there’s some new horrible thing they’re finding out about what they’ve gotten into, what kind of people they’re mixed up with now… How long is it going to be before they wish they’d never agreed to the consorting?”
“Don’t think like that,” I said. “You can’t— Rose, there’s no way in the world any of them are ever going to regret that decision.”
She looked up at me. “How can you know that?”
Maybe, if I’d taken the time to think about it, I’d have come up with a better answer. One still honest, but a little less raw. A little less likely to get me into trouble. But the pain in her eyes loosened my tongue, and before I knew it, the most baldly true answer I could have offered spilled out.
“Because I know nothing could be as bad as knowing everything they do and not being able to be there for you in every possible way.”
I clamped my mouth shut, but it was too late. The words were already out. I couldn’t even break the spell of Rose’s gaze, holding mine in place as she studied my expression. She was so close now, her arm resting against mine, that she might have been able to feel the heady thump of my heart.
“There are people who’d kill you for being here like this with me,” Rose said. “And you’d still want to commit yourself to me even more?”
I’d had time to think now. �
��Why don’t we just forget I said that,” I said. “It’s a moot point anyway. What I was getting at is, I know how the other guys feel, and it’s obvious they’d rather be with you than anywhere else.”
“I’m not going to forget it. Did you mean it or not?”
I let out my breath, but I still couldn’t look away. “When have I ever been in the habit of lying to you, Sprout?”
Something in her expression changed, like a faint light coming on that I hadn’t realized was missing until I saw it now. So hopeful it made my chest ache. Her hand rose to skim the edge of my jaw, and my pulse leapt. When she shifted forward to kiss me, God help me, I leaned right in to meet her.
The brush of her mouth against mine sent a tremor of energy over my skin. I tipped my head, and her lips parted, a hungry, needy sound escaping them. Her body was so vibrant next to mine it might as well have been made of light. Her hand trailed sparks down my side, and my fingers tangled in her hair as I kissed her harder. She shifted against me, suddenly feeling so beautifully fragile—
What the fuck was I doing?
I jerked back, my breath ragged. Rose grasped my hand. “It’s okay,” she said.
“How is it okay? You—the guys—”
“They know,” she said quietly. “We talked about it. Nothing definite, of course, since I didn’t know how you felt, but… You belong with us. We belong with you. I belong with you, as much as I do the rest of them. We don’t have to rush into anything, and you don’t have to promise me anything, not right now, but if you want—”
“No.” I pushed myself to my feet, shaking my head. “I can’t do this. I know what I said, but—I can’t.”
Before I had to explain myself any further, I hurried out of her room. Down the stairs and back to the garage, which was as close to Rose as I actually belonged. I didn’t stop until I was in my apartment, the door locked behind me.
I stood in the middle of the living room, my breath raw in my throat, my chest aching. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, I willed my pulse to even out. I’d caught myself. I’d gotten out of there. Maybe not as quickly as I should have, but…
I’d ruined too many goddamn things in my life. I wasn’t going to let myself ruin her too.
Chapter Nineteen
Rose
Looking at the consort files I’d grabbed from Celestine’s magicking room was awfully depressing. Like a road map laying out all the standard preferences and expectations of witching society.
How much of a fortune did each guy have? How much money did he bring in with his job? How prestigious was said job, with how much room for moving farther up the ladder? What prominent figures did he have in his family? How much magical ability had his female relatives demonstrated?
There were notes upon notes of each of the guys’ family histories and current position in the community… and nothing about what sort of a person they were. Had they ever done something to help someone else rather than focusing on building their own fortune? What did they do with their spare time that wasn’t for making money or impressing anyone?
Were they actually a worthwhile person for a woman to spend her life with?
“Aiming to add even more husbands to your household?” Philomena said, leaning over my shoulder.
I blinked at her. Phil. She smiled at me, and my heart squeezed. I’d told her, after I’d completed the consorting, that I’d still need her company. But it’d been at least a day since I’d last imagined her into being beside me, hadn’t it?
She might have developed a mind of her own, but she was still ultimately a product of mine. And mine was turning to her less and less, even unconsciously, it seemed.
There were too many all-too-real people stealing my attention, in ways both good and bad.
“No,” I said quickly, past the pang in my chest. I flipped one file folder closed and opened the one underneath. “These are the possible consorts Celestine was considering for me. The men she thought might agree to her scheme, apparently.”
“Hmm.” Phil plopped down on the bed across from me. “Then I suppose it’s no surprise you don’t look all that excited about what these potential suitors might offer.”
“No.” What had I been expecting? Celestine hadn’t cared whether I was happy. The only real surprise was that there wasn’t more detail on why she’d thought these particular guys would agree to a lifetime of highly illegal magic.
Or maybe she just hadn’t wanted that part of the files to be obvious to anyone who happened across them. I paused and then waved my hand in a gentle circle over the papers, testing the energy of my spark against them.
A tingling tickled over my palm. Ah-ha.
“There’s a spell on them,” I said. “Let me see if I can…”
I curled my fingers, a little tug, a little twist, and… There.
A scrawl I recognized as Celestine’s handwriting shimmered into sight along the margins of the page. She’d magically charged those notes so it took more magic to make them visible. Very clever, but not clever enough.
According to my stepmother, the guy whose file I was looking at—Samson Evandale—had expressed to her in confidence that he felt it was unfair that the witching women held all the magic. She’d also discovered that he’d been covering up a nasty gambling habit. Pride and public image were his pressure points.
I shuddered. So those were the real criteria my stepmother had been looking for. Resentment and weakness.
I shuffled back to Derek’s file. He’d been sore about losing his family estate to his younger sister. Wanting to shame his parents with his success. That was why he’d wanted Celestine to gift them all that money theoretically from his investments, I supposed. Lovely. Ultimately a coward, Celestine had written. Does not handle uncertainty well. Always keep him a little off-balance.
“What a catch my fiancé was,” I muttered.
“I fully approve of continuing to keep him off-balance,” Philomena piped up. “Steal your stepmother’s strategies.”
I wrinkled my nose. So far I wasn’t sure that had worked out so well for me.
The other guys had similar write-ups. One of them, Killian Sorensen, Celestine had noted as an ideal “emergency back-up” if the original engagement fell through. Wants to claim property back from his niece inheriting. Needs a consort who can bring pressure to bear soon. No need to keep promises made once he’s on the hook.
Okay, I was pretty sure I needed to wash my brain out after this glimpse inside her way of thinking.
Feeling queasy, I closed the folders and tucked them away in their hiding spot. “I need to figure out how to pitch my actual consorts to my dad,” I said. “With a minimum of him freaking out over them being unsparked.” My perusal of those files hadn’t helped at all. If anything, they’d made me more uncertain myself.
“Do you even have to tell him?” Phil asked. “Just get rid of that rake of a fiancé and you can take your time with the rest.”
I shook my head. “He knows as well as I do that I need a consort before I turn twenty-five. If he thinks I don’t have anyone other than Derek, he’ll try to find someone else. There’s no getting around it. He’s going to have to know. At least about one of them, to start.”
Phil pursed her lips. “So who is the most eligible of your no-longer-bachelors?”
I flopped back down on the bed beside her, draping my arm over my forehead. For a second my thoughts slipped to the guy who remained a bachelor—and apparently planned to continue that way, given the way he’d reacted to me this afternoon. Gabriel. The look in his eyes when he’d pulled away from me, almost… horrified. A sharp twinge ran through my gut, remembering.
It was fine if he didn’t want me that way. The last thing I wanted was to pull him into this mess unless he was all in. But the way he’d been talking right before, I’d thought we’d been on the exact same wavelength. I’d been so relieved…
But I’d been wrong. So I’d give him his space and let him decide when he was ready to deal with me again. F
or now, I had the four guys who had committed themselves to me to vouch for.
“I couldn’t start by telling Dad about Damon, that’s for sure,” I said. “Works crazy hours for sketchy people he’s not allowed to talk about. Would probably say something snarky to Dad within ten seconds of being in the same room with him. That… is going to take some work.”
“The others, then,” Phil prompted.
“Let’s see.” I considered. “Jin might come across fairly well. His dad is an established musician. Jin’s making a living with his own art. Contributing to the community by showcasing other local artists in his gallery. Worldly and well-traveled. I’ve got angles there.” If we just forgot about the whole unsparked thing.
“Seth and Kyler… Their dad owns his own business.” Not that my dad was likely to be impressed by a hardware store. I tapped my knuckle against my mouth. “Ky’s the town tech expert. We’ll leave out the hacking stuff. Seth clearly has a strong sense of loyalty, staying with the family business. Um…”
“You’re not inspiring much confidence at the moment,” Phil said.
I groaned. “I know. I’m just trying to see them through Dad’s eyes. What would matter to him—enough to offset the whole ‘not witching folk’ problem.”
They were devoted to me and they loved me. And I loved all of them. They’d protect me. They’d defend this estate if they needed to. They were risking their lives just by being with me.
Not that they had much choice about that now that the ceremony was already done.
I couldn’t think about that. They were with me, and I was with them, and I had to defend them with everything I had. Which meant convincing Dad that I was better off with them than any witching man he could have offered me. Convincing Dad to help me hide the choice I’d made from the people in the Assembly who’d kill us over it.
Yeah. No pressure. Ha.
“You could always wait a little longer,” Phil offered.