Page 9 of Shift of Morals
“Seymour is fine,” he growled. “I’m not giving him back.”
My hands stilled as a smile tugged at my mouth. “Aww. You have a soft spot for that deadly little plant.”
Caelan rolled his eyes. “I like puzzles.”
“How’s the other one doing?”
His smile made my heart skip a beat. “The water to Seymour’s fire. She’s taken on quite the personality and has grown quite close to Simone.”
I’d spelled the vine, too, but only in a way to give it more autonomy. The turtle vine had taken a shine to Caelan right away. “You’re giving her the right conditions to grow?”
“Of course. I follow your instructions to the letter.” But his brow furrowed.
“What? Is there something wrong with her?”
“No. Quite the opposite. Sometimes I find her in…different places.”
I tilted my head and studied him. “I’m going to need a little more.”
“She moves herself. I don’t know how, but I’ll have her on the window ledge one day, and the next I find her on my desk, or by Simone’s favorite chair. One time, I found her in the conference room, sitting where Rowan always sits.”
I blinked in surprise. “Err. Maybe I should take her back instead of Seymour.”
Caelan shook his head. “No. She’s harmless. I think she’s curious, that’s all.”
“Would you like me to take a look when I come for your meeting?”
Caelan stiffened when I reminded him of his upcoming wedding. Tension lined his frame. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about this.”
“This?” I laughed. “You mean your wedding.”
“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.
I carefully added dirt to a large, decorative pot. “There’s no need. You could have sent Simone with any message you had.”
His fingers curled around my arm. “Evie.”
Heat seeped through my sleeve, his touch electrifying. I stared at his tanned, elegant hand and pulled my arm away.
“I had no choice.” His voice was low and harsh. “I?—”
I went back to filling the pot. “We all have a choice. You made yours.” Once that one was full, I pulled a matching pot over and started the process again.
Magic pulsed around me, reacting to all the plant life, but also to Caelan’s presence. Very few people came into my sanctum, and my plants were unsure about him. The Shifter Lord was leashed violence, strength and power vibrating in his every motion.
“The other Lords have begun questioning my grip on my territory.”
Once that pot was full, I pulled the flat of petunias over. “This is none of my concern, Caelan. And I don’t want to be involved. It’s always dangerous for me to know more than I should.”
“You are involved,” he snarled. “The other Lords recognize how powerful you are and…” He stopped himself and turned, swearing under his breath.
My magic reacted to his words. Petunias grew half an inch under my fingertips, and the butterflies on the pipe vines fluttered back through the greenhouse opening as the leaves shuddered. The greenhouse rumbled, stones shifting against each other as they reacted to my emotional turbulence.
“And what?” Power turned my voice deeper. “I made a mistake when I saved you that night.”
Caelan stilled, his eyes flashing golden. “You would have left me to die, flower girl?”
No, but he didn’t need to know that. “If I had, I would be tending my greenhouse without the threat of destruction hanging over my head every time a Shifter Lord comes around.”
