Page 58 of Who Owns You?

“Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” Dara gives me a bright smile. “They are yours to keep. I can only ever make them once, but they should be as indestructible as your men.”

I pull them to my chest and give them the biggest squeeze. “I’ll take care of them, I promise.”

Just like I’ll take care of the real ones, if they let me.

Chapter 25

JULIUS

My simmer pot boils over,causing the flame under it to hiss and pop at me. I blink down into the water, unmoving, as cranberries, orange peels, and little bits of sage float to the surface.

I’m doing this because I do it every day, but it doesn’t feel right. Nothing has felt right since Atlas left. The young gargoyle may have been loud, annoying, a bit of a mess, and afraid of witches, but he was my nest-mate, a friend and companion.

I let him down. I didn’t help him prepare for what life was going to be like.

How could I have? I didn’t know Charlotte was coming to us. No one knew it was going to happen. She just appeared like a strike of lightning and left us all irrevocably changed in her wake.

“Good morning,” the witch says suddenly behind me.

I wasn’t paying any attention, or I would have heard her like I did on that first day.

“Good morning. Did you get any sleep?” I ask, turning to look at her.

It’s hard to be a functional mortal being with everything she has been going through. I’m glad for the first time in my life that I only need an hour of sleep to be completely functional and rested. I wouldn’t survive otherwise.

“I did, actually.” She gives me a small smile.

Her hair is sticking up slightly from where she slept on it, and her face has soft lines from her sheets and pillow.

I want to cup her face and smooth the lines away, kissing her until she is well and truly awake, but touching her feels like a betrayal so deep I can’t stomach it.

I give her a tight smile and point to the fridge. “I made some yogurt yesterday evening, and there is some fresh fruit with it.”

“No baking?” she asks, eyes scanning the counters for my usual mess of fresh baked goods.

Empty.

“No, I couldn’t really focus,” I admit, stirring the simmer pot and swirling all the ingredients into a whirlpool.

You aren’t really supposed to impart any discord into the magic, but it’s all I can seem to feel, so it seeps in, just a touch.

“Oh, OK. How have you been sleeping?” she asks, walking over to the fridge and pulling it open. She pokes around inside before pulling out a package of strawberries and the yogurt. “Have you been sleeping?”

“As much as I need,” I reply, trying to skirt around the fact that I would be exhausted otherwise.

“Hmmm.” She sits down at the island, grabbing a large bright red berry.

She pulls the cover from the yogurt container and dunks the fruit right in. I wince at the cross contamination, the move reminding me of something Atlas would do.

She takes a bite of the fruit and moans. “This is so good. How did you make the yogurt?”

Her curiosity is almost enough to dull the ache in my chest.

“Instant Pot and a little bit of either already-made yogurt or cultures you can get from the shops,” I reply, stirring and stirring the pot.

“It’s really, really good. Thank you for making it.”

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