Page 19 of Love the Way You Lion
My eyes find hers as I pull her chin up to look at me. “Minx, you need to slow down. You’re not breathing and it’s only making you cry harder. I don’t know what you’re talking about when you say that it wouldn’t matter if you helped or not.”
Drawing in a shuddering breath, she tries to calm and I feel the air around us get lighter. It’s becoming obvious that her emotions affect her magick and while I think it’s a suitable topic for later, now I need to know how to put Humpty back together again.
She was sad yet serene after dropping the bomb about Maeve on us. She helped us get to the hospital, and she stayed by the gnome’s side during the surgeries. My wife knitted her blanket and rocked the little monster sitting in her lap like a child. She even went home with her and got bludgeoned with her grief for days before I showed up.
“Sari’s messing with things she does not understand. She thinks she can bring him back and everything will be the same or better, I don’t know.” My wife chokes back a sob and puts her hand over her mouth, shaking her head. “You can’t do it like that. It costs too much. It’s not for us to make that decision. Even if wecould, nothing ever comes back the same. There is a debt owed to the Universe that is so steep that it could change the course of the future.”
I sigh and shake my head. If my magickal minx is this upset, she knows that it is not only a bad idea, but that it is possible to accomplish. She’s not scoffing and pooh-poohing at the thought of doing so. My lovely wife knows it is possible to resurrect someone, and either knows how or knows people who know how.
That’s terrifying.
~You can’t do it like that. The costs are too high. She watches TV; she reads; no one does this unscathed. It’s bad juju! ~
Now I’m certain that something is going on. Sari was a weeping, catatonic mess at the hospital. For days, she’s been holding my wife emotionally captive using CIA style interrogation techniques. She’s had time to plan a bloody complex magickal quest to gatheritems for a ceremony that maybe a handful of people on Earth know about?
She plotted the visit to Lily for maximum damage. This is bullshit—my wife is a pawn in this scheme. “I hate when you cry because it makes me want to kill things.” I gather her into my arms. “Something is rotten, my love. You’re not Rhea, and we both know it. I don’t know what the gnome is planning, but I will find out.”
Her eyes are red-rimmed as she looks at me. “You promise?”
“Without zombies, re-animated corpses, or killing anyone, I will find out what has happened here. I can’t guarantee that I won’t kill anyone after I find out, but I will stop them from hurting you.”
Nodding, she buries her face in my shoulder and I hold her close, crooning and cooing into her mind.
I’m deadly serious. I will find out what the gnome’s game is, and I will end it.
The Blade Slithers Her Way Into His Heart
TALIA
Istride in, looking around for him because I know he’s here. He’s been calm since the service. It’s like he’s getting over his mate, but making sure not to ask anyone for anything. I’ve done my best to comfort him when he seems the most upset, but he’s never once talked about what he feels.
It worries the hell out of me.
There was something at odds about his relationship with the other mates. Rafe avoided seeing Sari—unlike Deli who got held hostage at her house. He complied with Sari’s request for a drawing, but I watched him struggle for days before rooting through the only locked cabinet in his studio. He pulled out a beautiful watercolor of Wilde that he placed in a carrying sleeve, but he didn’t look at it again, nor did he reply when Sari thanked him. He nodded and handed it over, staying quiet until we could leave.
Rafe is grieving, but he’s conflicted, and it shows.
After Taurus told me about the cat, I’m not surprised. I’ve said it since the beginning and I’m saying it again now: something terriblehappened to these two and I realize now that Sari and her deceased clone were in the thick of it. Whatever they went through is awful enough that neither wants anyone—even us—to find out about it.
Rafe walks in with a pint of ice cream and a spoon in his hand. His eyes are dark and his hair is braided tightly down his back. He’s been very austere since the cremation, and I miss his flamboyance. Giving me a smile, he drops onto the couch and sits the pint down on the table. “Oi, love.”
He rubs his temples and I can tell he has a headache. It’s from bottling everything up for so long. Taurus told me he’s very concerned that something is hinky with this accident. He’s got a team on it, but I feel cautious, especially with the information that he got from his wife. Resurrection?
Christ, I can only hope that the magickal kitty is keeping that from her primary. I don’t want him to dig deeper.
I prefer to be ready if he needs me. The only time I’ve gotten unstrapped since the funeral is when we’ve been intimate; I’ve even been sleeping with Precious under the pillow. I don’t trust Sari and her cadre of clowns for a second, and I’ll be damned if waiting isn’t making my fangs twitch. No use getting Rafe all upset, though. I’d rather him focus on healing, than worry about their bullshit.
So I pad over and ask him, “Did you bring two spoons or are you going to let me use yours?”
He smiles a bit, making room for me. “You can share. I’m not afraid of catching your cooties.”
“That’s good, because they’d be all over you by now.” I scoot close, ducking under his arm. “Flavor?”
“Mint chocolate chip. Leo went to the place on the other side my girl loves this morning. There’s nothing better.”
I blink, shaking my head. “You’re going to think I’m lying when I say that you brought my favorite flavor.”
His lips curl briefly. “Nope. The more we get to know one another, the more we have in common. I’m sorry that stuff’s making that less simple right now.” He sucks ice cream off a sizable chunk of chocolate and I stare at his insofar ‘non-sharing’ spoon.
