by Cece Rose
I walk towards my kitchen, stepping through my circle as I go, forcing it to drop as I cross through the boundary. Once in the kitchen, I head over to the unused cookbooks and grab my own personal grimoire out from behind them. After tearing out a page, I snag a pen from the kitchen counter and write just one word on the page. A name.
With the paper held out in front of me, I stare at the name on the page, letting my magic flow out from my chest, down my arm and through my hand, then finally, along my fingertips to the paper. “I need you. I’m sorry,” I whisper, still staring at the name. “I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.” The paper bursts into blue flames, and I drop it, waving my hand from the harsh heat that just brushed so closely to it. I stare down at the burning remnants of the paper, watching as the last of the flames die without spreading.
“Please, I really need my best friend.”
Four
Trust and Regret
The soft, slow, repetitive beat of Darren’s heart soothes me as I rest my head against his chest while we snuggle on the sofa. His hand plays idly with my hair as we both stare at the television screen, neither of us paying much attention to the show that’s on.
“What’s bugging you?” Darren asks, finally breaking the awkward silence that’s been dragging on all night.
“What makes you think something’s bugging me?” I ask indignantly, though I don’t move from my position where I’m sprawled across him.
“Your heart’s racing, and you smell nervous.”
“I... you think I smell nervous?” I question, lifting my head just enough so that I can give him an inquisitive stare. I’m not about to admit that I am extremely nervous, as that’s hardly the point. What does nervous even smell like?
“I know you smell nervous. Talk to me, I promise not to bite,” he teases softly.
“Promise?” I ask, giving him a small smile.
“I promise,” he agrees.
“I need to help Rhydian with something. I owe him for doing something for me, and now, like any lender of favours, he’s come to collect,” I explain.
“At least it’s not the demon coming to collect,” Darren jokes.
“Yeah,” I agree, not sure that I honestly do.
“What does Rhydian want you to do?” Darren asks after a moment.
“He didn’t say, but he said I have to dress up,” I complain. “Why is he making me do this? Whatever this is?”
“He’s probably just using you as a fake date to agitate his family or something. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done such a thing,” Darren suggests.
“What?” I sit up, but leave my legs resting over Darren’s, and I lean back just enough so that we can look at each other while we speak. “You can’t be serious?”
“They’ve been trying to force him to get married for years. I kind of feel sorry for him. He brings non-fae girls home to piss them off for pissing him off,” he answers.
“I can do a fake girlfriend if you’re down with that,” I joke. “Like a dumb romantic comedy, minus the whole falling in love thing. I already did that part with someone else.”
“You better have,” he teases, leaning forward and closing the distance so that he can kiss me. A short, soft kiss—one that leaves me wanting more. How could one kiss ever be enough?
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask, wanting to be sure.
“I’m sure. I won’t make your choices for you, Kayla. And I trust whatever it is, needing you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a dinner, or anything else his devious mind is capable of coming up with, that you’ll be okay. I know he wouldn’t put you in any real danger,” he responds, resting a hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t deserve you,” I mutter, leaning forward and resting my head against his chest again. He wraps his arms around me and rubs my back in soothing circles.
“Why would you say that?” he whispers.
“Because Rhydian’s being Rhydian, and you just trust me completely,” I respond quietly.
“Shouldn’t I trust you?”
Me, maybe. My magic since the ritual… maybe not. But it’s just one evening of helping Rhydian. I can make it through that and figure out a solution afterwards. I can do that at least. I have to.
“Of course you can. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” Even if it hurts me.
“Then you have full permission to play the part of girlfriend should that be his request,” he jokes.
“Thank you, maybe you could help me practice? I need to make sure I have this perfect girlfriend thing down,” I request, flashing him a smile as I move to bring my face to his.
“I’m willing to provide you with my full assistance,” he agrees, pressing his lips against mine. He kisses me harder this time, his hand sliding into my hair as he holds me in place. After goddess knows how long, he finally pulls away. “You won’t be kissing him like that, will you?” he jokes.
“Never. I doubt his parents would require us to have a make-out session at dinner.” A small laugh slips out as I picture the faces of two, horrified-looking fae royals. My laugh cuts off as I realise the possibility of that scenario happening, the dinner with his parents part anyway. Shit. I really hope I don’t have to have dinner with horrified fae royals.
“No, I don’t think that will be a problem.” He laughs with me, seeming completely relaxed at the prospect. I find it a little strange. Since we’ve been dating again he’s been calmer. Less liable to snap over the mere mention of someone else’s name.
“I saw Kier today,” I inform him, testing his reaction to me bringing him up.
“And?” he prompts, still looking chilled out.
“He’s had no luck in finding any answers, if he’s even been looking for them,” I tell him, before adding, “I think he’s been busy.”
“You’ll find a way to get it back,” Darren reassures me, rubbing down my arm comfortingly. “It’s weird to think there’s some of your magic inside of me. I swear, I barely feel it.”
“It’s definitely weird to think my magic went into other people,” I agree, avoiding using present tense when doing so, despite the instant flush of guilt. Why don’t I just tell him?
“I’ll feel better when you have it back. Knowing three other men out there that all carry a piece of you does make me a little jealous,” he admits.
So there goes telling him that it also makes me wildly attracted to them...
“Well, like you said, I’ll find a way to get it back,” I say, now my turn to reassure him.
“You will,” he agrees, leaning forward to press his lips to my forehead in a gentle kiss. “I’m going for a shower.”
“Want company?” I offer, winking at him playfully.
“Always. Give me two minutes to grab towels out of the drier,” he agrees.
“You already put in towels for both of us? So presumptuous,” I tease, sliding off the sofa. I’ll grab a glass of water before joining him in there.
“I know how much you like to shower,” he says simply, shrugging, but I catch the amusement dancing in his eyes. I watch silently as he walks out of the kitchen, to the small utility room, shutting the door behind him to keep the chill that always seems to fill that room out of the rest of the home. So damn considerate.
I sigh, feeling like an ass. But I refuse to allow my mistakes to hurt him. I stepped away from Kier, and I will resist Rhydian, my magic be damned. I’ll find another way to get it back, there has to be an alternative to this mess. As I grab a glass and fill it with water, Darren passes me with the towels in hand, heading back to his ensuite bathroom. I smile at him as he walks by, trying not to let my worry show.
When he’s out of sight, I pull my phone from my pocket and glance at the screen. Still no calls or messages. She’s really leaving me to deal with this on my own, despite my desperate attempt to contact her. Like I should expect anything else after pretty much telling her to leave me alone forever the last time I saw her.
I grab my glass of water,
downing it in one gulp, before pushing the bad thoughts from my head, determined to focus on the evening itself. There’s a sexy shifter climbing into a shower alone right now, and he definitely needs me to join him. A small but real smile curves my lips as I head towards the bathroom.
It’s not all bad after all…
Five
Best Friends Are Forever
After spending an hour going over every single item in my wardrobe, I finally determine that I have absolutely nothing suitable to wear. Sexy, but not slutty. I’ve never really thought of any of my clothes as slutty, but that stupid fae asshole managed to give me a complex. Well, other than that one really tiny black dress that I own, but it’s not like I’ve ever worn it out.
Even when I first purchased it, the dress was too daring for my tastes with the cut-out sides, open back, plunging neckline and with a hemline only just long enough to cover my ass, bending over isn’t a possibility. I’d bought it on a misguided whim after a string of useless dates. Clearly an unsuitable choice, the dress in question lies somewhere in the towering mountain of clothing on the floor of my room, despite my determination that I have nothing to wear.
A strange sound comes from downstairs, startling me. I freeze, listening closely for further sounds. Just as I’m about to brush it off, the unmistakable sound of a bottle popping open rings through the air. Why is Rhydian so early? He’s not meant to be here until later. I groan, pulling my black, fluffy dressing gown on, and head down the stairs to deal with my pesky intruder.
I head straight for the kitchen, figuring he must have helped himself to my limited alcohol selection. Entering my kitchen, I freeze in place, caught in the doorway as I stare at the person casually pouring two glasses of wine. “You came,” I finally manage to say, after gaping at my friend for a few moments in bewilderment. I’d expected a phone call or a message or something. Not this. Not for her to come here and risk getting caught.
“I felt you call, of course I’d come. Now get over here and take one of these glasses of wine so I don’t look like my mother,” Lizzy jokes, holding a glass out to me. I take it, attempting to keep calm as I do.
“What’s with the alcohol?” I ask.
“You mean, you don’t remember?” she gasps, a look of mock-horror stretching across her face. I shake my head, a little confused. “It’s our friendiversary.”
I grin, realising the date and that she’s right. “We haven’t celebrated it in years.”
“So? We get busy sometimes.” Lizzy shrugs. “I’m not busy now though. Other than the whole ‘wanted for murder’ thing, my schedule is pretty clear,” she quips with a strained laugh.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off, holding up my free hand. I take a big gulp of the wine before setting it down on the counter. “I don’t agree with what you did, but I don’t always like the things I’ve done either. I’m still hurt, I mean, you almost let me take the fall for what you did—”
“I never would have let that happen. I would have found a way out, for both of us, and if all else failed, I would have confessed,” she insists, cutting me off mid-sentence.
“Just let me finish. I know you’re my friend, practically my sister, and you would have made the right call, done anything to stop me paying the price in the end. I know that, but that also doesn’t change the fact that because of what you did I went through hell,” I continue.
“Why did you call me here if nothing’s changed?” she asks, seeming disappointed with my reaction to her arrival.
“Things have changed. I understand better now. There’s so much to tell you, and I don’t have the time right now. I need to go shopping and find a dress or something to wear, and I’m assuming you can’t just go strolling through the streets with me?” I ask, before taking another nervous sip of the wine.
“Why do you need a dress? Are you going on a date?” she inquires, perking up, but her words instantly make me cringe. “I guess not.” She attempts not to smile at my reaction. I sigh and pull my friend into a hug.
“I’m still mad as hell, but you’re my friend no matter what. Go ahead, you can freaking smile,” I mutter, before pulling away. “Now, I have to get dressed and go shopping.”
“What if you didn’t have to go anywhere?” she offers, using her foot to nudge a small suitcase in my direction. One that I know is deceptively small and light.
“How much could you possibly pack in there? I ask, eyeing the suitcase with scepticism. It may be able to hold far more than expected, but did she really have the time to grab all her things before she left?
“There’s a perfect dress for every occasion,” she answers, as if that should be obvious. “What’s the occasion if not a date?”
“I have no idea,” I respond dryly. Her eyebrows raise in surprise.
“What do you know?” she asks.
“It needs to be ‘sexy, but not slutty’ and Rhydian is involved,” I answer, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
“You need to be careful with him, Kayla. There are things I haven’t told you, things that I really should.” She speaks quietly as she moves to sit on the floor, pulling open the suitcase. “What colour do you want?” she inquires, in a normal tone, as if she hadn’t said anything unusual before.
“Black or red, I guess,” I mutter, before narrowing my eyes on her. “What do you need to tell me about Rhydian?”
“I know him. Knew him. A couple of years ago…” she begins.
“Oh, goddess no, please tell me you—
“I didn’t!” she protests, looking a little offended. “As if.”
“Well, what happened then?”
“He did me a favour. I needed something badly, and he got it for me. Even wrapped the fucking box with a bow, the patronising bastard.”
Well, doesn’t that sound familiar…
“And then he wanted you to help him in return?” I supply, biting my lip nervously as I wait for her answer.
“He wanted me to help him steal something. Some piece of jewellery. He even said it belonged to his family and not Aven’s. That I’d just be returning the thing to its real owners, really.”
“Aven? As in the guy whose Halloween party we went to the night we met Darren? Rhydian was there?” I question, but suddenly it clicks, and I don’t need her to explain. “The ring.”
“I’m so sorry. I figured once he took it back, you’d forget all about it and we’d never see him again.”
“How did… I don’t…” my sentences fail and trail off as my brain explodes inside my head as another realisation hits me. Finally, I recover enough to speak. “It was him. I kissed him, and he hid that ring on me then, didn’t he?” I demand. She nods her head, pressing her lips together in an unhappy expression. She starts pulling clothes out of her suitcase and spreads them across the floor of my kitchen around her.
“I never understood how I ended up with that stupid ring. I always thought it was Darren in that room. Hell, I went on a date with Darren because of that kiss.” I take a deep breath to try and calm myself, but it only seems to give more life to my fury. “He’s an asshole. I’m gonna kill him,” I announce.
“You can try,” Lizzy mutters, in a tone that suggests she’s considered it herself.
“You’re wrong about something though,” I say, recapturing her attention as she peeks up from her pile of clothes.
“He never took the ring back from me. I’m sure I still have it.”
“You’re shitting me? He didn’t go to all the effort of stealing the thing to let a strange witch keep it, no way. He must have switched it out with a fake or something.”
“There’s only one way to know for sure.” I point upstairs.
“I’m trying to find you an outfit here,” she replies, looking less than excited at the prospect of investigating the ring, clearly having already brushed it off as a fake replacement.
“Fine. You find an outfit for me to wear, and I’ll get the ring so I can show you
it hasn’t left the drawer since I shoved it in there.” Other than the times I tried it on for fun, of course. It’s a really pretty ring.
“Fine.” She huffs, continuing to rifle through the suitcase. I don’t know how much more she could have in there; she’s already pulled out enough clothes to fill four larger suitcases from the small, charmed piece of luggage.
“I’ll just be two seconds,” I call as I walk out from the kitchen.
“One,” she calls loudly, dragging it out.
“Shut up,” I shout back, before she can count to two.
I rush up the stairs, anxious to see whether Rhydian replaced the ring with a fake or not. How would I even tell? I’m not exactly an expert on ancient fae jewellery.
Hesitantly, I approach the drawer, suddenly a little worried that I’ll find it empty. I take a breath and pull open the drawer, immediately seeing the ring laying on top of the little strip of fabric I’d left it on. I pick it up, bringing the ring close to my face so I can stare at it.
The ring doesn’t appear any differently from any of the times I’ve looked at it over the last two plus years. I run a finger over the edge of the white-gold band and press my fingertips against the cold, blue stones. It’s flawless and exactly as it looked the day I found it. I close my hand over it, clutching it tightly as I exit my bedroom and head back downstairs to show Lizzy. Hopefully she’ll be a better judge on its authenticity than I am.
“It looks real to me,” I say as I enter the kitchen again, holding it out for her to inspect. She reaches out, jerking back as soon as her fingers touch the ring.
“Fuck,” she curses, waving her hand.
“What the hell was that?” I question, eyeing the ring as my stomach twists from my rising anxiety. Why do I have a bad feeling about this?
“I swear, it burnt me,” she explains, looking at her fingers in confusion. “They don’t look burnt though.”
“It doesn’t burn me,” I comment, holding it out to her again. “Maybe you just got a static shock or something.”