Page 63 of Witches and Wine
“Neither did I,” I mused, trailing my toes over his thigh. “My sisters told me.”
“Well—” Dion started, peering over his shoulder at my glowing claiming mark. “—I fucking dig it.”
Smiling up at him and the view of the moon giving him a shimmering white outline, I curled a finger around one horn and pulled him closer, kissing him. “What’s next for us, Dion?”
“Does there have to be a next?” Dion tilted his head, lazily dragging a finger over where he’d bit me.
The thought of the unknown, the bright future as I learned more of my magic, conjuring spells with my new coven and exploring the Cove with mymate, had my body going boneless. “No, I suppose there doesn’thaveto be a next.”
“Exactly,” Dion gruffly whispered, settling between my thighs again. “And this is coming from the god of ‘living it up,’ but one of the best parts of living, Red, islivingfor the present moments.”
“You honestly still think that after how long you’ve been around?”
Dion used his thumb to scratch under his bottom lip. “Nah. I’ve lived over a thousand years, Chelsea, but my life didn’t truly start—” Dion pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “—until I found my mate.”
My moon magic buzzed, and as I stared into his eyes, knowing he’d never lie or fabricate anything with me, I crashed my mouth against his.
“Can I ask you something, D?” I kept my arms wrapped around his strong neck.
“Anything.”
Tracing my fingertip over the curve of one horn, I asked, “None of the other gods have a beast form like this. Is there a particular reason thatyoudo?”
Dion smiled, flashing a bit of canine. “It was the second or maybe third time, I can’t remember, that Hera tried to kill me. Despite them making an arrangement to be married for politicsonly and that they were free to be with other people, she was still furious that I was the first product of Zeus’sgrazing.” Dion paused, scratching his thumb under his bottom lip. “When she almost succeeded the time before, Zeus wanted to protect me. The only way he could do that—was by cursing me with the beast.”
“It’s by no means a curse,” I reassured him.
He bumped a knuckle under my chin. “It used to be when I couldn’t control it as well as I do now.”
“Itsavedyou. Maybe that’s why it took so long for us to find each other.” Grinning, I pressed a light kiss to his lips.
“I’d have learned to control it in an instant if I knew it would bring you to me that much sooner, Chels.” Dion trailed his claws through my hair with a contented sigh.
One hundred and four starbursts shot through the sky that night—one for each day I’d wasted knowing Dion and being too scared and stubborn to be with him. With him, I’d found a new home in Arcane Cove. I discovered my true self and uncovered a deeper connection with my late mother that I had never known I had. And though I never admitted my jealousy over my little sister’s mythical life—here I was, a part of the magic all along.
Three months later…
“Thanks,man, you can set those over there,” I said to the delivery man proudly displaying the UMPS logo on his navy blue shirt—the United Magical Package Service delivering more ambrosia wine from Olympus.
Bacchus numbers had sky-rocketed since Chelsea and I became mates. I’d like to have thought it was the extra pulse of magical energy floating through the Cove from our bond, but I knew the biggest reason currently stood on stage with his annoyingly brightened white smile.
Apollo became a headliner every Saturday fucking night, and everyone came in droves to sing along with his songs, rock out, and throw articles of clothing at him. Chelsea had also worked her PR magic without any aid from me or her witchcraft, securing an additional three acts—a dancing violinist, aerial dancers, and a magic act. That’s right. A mythie performinghuman sleight of hand tricks as a spectaclehere. My mate was a godsdamned genius.
Tambie tapped my elbow and pointed at the bar. Herb gruffly sat on a stool hunched over a tumbler of whiskey, and the sight made me blanch. Bacchus had never been Herb’s scene. In fact, I couldn’t recall a timeeverseeing him here. He’d always been more of a Finneas’ Pub type.
“I’ll see what’s going on,” I said to Tambie, patting her shoulder.
Tambie frowned and scraped a nail over one of her antlers. “I sure hope it’s not another murder. Istillthink about that poor pixie, and I didn’t even know her.”
Chelsea and I had offered our help countless times in investigating who killed the witch pixie, especially since she’d been a former sister in Chelsea’s new coven. The sheriff, as stubborn and crotchety as ever, told us all forms of “go to hell” and to let him do his damn job. Three months later, the trail toward her killer only went colder.
Moving behind the bar, I leaned on one palm and pointed at the sheriff’s empty glass. “Can I freshen you up there, Herb?”
“Damn straight you can and make it something stronger, would ya?” Herb slid the glass closer.
Grabbing a fresh bottle of ambrosia wine, I swirled my magic around it, altering its contents to taste like bourbon while maintaining the wine’s potency, and poured him a double. “Considering I’ve never seen you in here, you’ll understand why I’m curious as to your patronage tonight?”
Herb let out a gruff sigh and snatched the newly filled glass, immediately shoving his nose into it to guzzle. “You’re right. This place is obnoxious, loud as all get out, and everyone shows far too much skin for my taste.”
