Page 45 of Shift of Morals
“I’m only pointing out the obvious,” Simone insisted.
“The same problem will occur if she marries another Lord,” I said, pushing the reports away.
Rowan snorted. “You can’t be that blind, man.”
I looked up at the Lord.
“You’re the most powerful Lord on record right now. That’s the only reason they haven’t shoved Evie at you. The only two Lords who aren’t afraid of her are sitting in this room.”
“Caelan is afraid of her sometimes.”
I bared my teeth at my Omega.
Rowan barked a laugh. “The woman makes my balls shrivel occasionally, but the others are genuinely terrified of Evie. You and I both know she’s not merely a Floromancer.”
If only he knew. “As long as she continues presenting herself that way, we have to operate under the assumption that’s what she is, otherwise we’d break our own laws.”
“Forcing a woman to marry one of you is breaking about a dozen laws in this country,” Simone groused.
“We fall under our own law,” I said to her, “as you well know.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss me off,” Simone grumbled.
Powerful magic pulsed from Seymour, a tourmaline-colored flash cracking in the room. The plant stilled, motionless for a long moment before it shivered, the magic gone as suddenly as it had risen.
Every hair on my body stood up. That was Evie’s magic. Had something happened?
Rowan stared at Seymour. “What just happened?”
Simone was already tapping at her tablet. “I’ll check on Evie, Lord,” she said simply.
Dangerous things were moving around my Floromancer.
The gods help me. I should not have let that woman wiggle her way into my heart.
Chapter
Twelve
At dawn the next morning, the shop doors blew open, the bells jangling a discordant tune, and a small, fearsome woman walked in, her strawberry-colored hair floating away from her shoulders even though the wind outside was still.
Her eyes were a freakish ultramarine blue color, her gaze sharp and intelligent. Hazel had an odd way of being able to read everyone in the room and their emotions to boot. She wasn’t a Seer that I could tell, but I felt positive Hazel got flashes of the future sometimes.
She was way too observant not to.
Hazel carried a battered leather duffel that crackled with power. She tossed it down, blew her hair out of her face, and let her gaze sweep the shop before she turned, her sharp gaze landing on me.
“Tea,” she demanded in her smoky, accented voice. “Hot, black, and fast.”
Moira scrambled to get it for her. The vampire was scared of few things, but Hazel both fascinated and scared the shit out of her. She also held quite a lot of respect for the witch as Moira never would have met me if Hazel had left me to die in that Scottish field of thistles.
The witch studied me for a long moment, then nodded as if she’d convinced herself of something. She held her arms open, and I went to her as if hypnotized. Hazel wasn’t the most demonstrative witch, but when she asked for a hug, you gave it to her, because usually Hazel wasn’t the one who needed it.
She crushed me to her small frame, the hug smelling of a dozen different herbs and magic. Hazel stroked a firm hand down my hair and patted me on the back. “Your magic smells different, my dear. Is your tattoo acting up?”
I nodded, my face buried in her shoulder.
“Well then,” she said decisively. “I’ll get to work on that soon, then.”
