Page 21 of With This Witch
Against her better judgment, she snaps back, “Is it really a time-honored tradition if no one has ever been asked to do it before? And yes, I think it is archaic. Would you have asked a warlock to get married if he were under consideration for this position?” Grog begins to sputter, trying to find a response. Before he has a chance to get his thoughts together, Petra continues, “I doubt it. But because I am a woman, you think you can force me into a marriage, which is also a time-honored tradition,” she finishes, taking a satisfying sip from her straw as she looks up at Grog, feigning innocence.
His disgusting hand lands on her arm, squeezing it tightly. It hurts, and she winces but doesn’t pull away. She’s not going to show him a single weakness tonight. “Now listen here, you useless witchling,” he begins in a low tone. “I am a revered council member who could make your life a living hell. You would do your best to show me the respect I am due.” Grog huffs angrily at her, spit flying and landing on her exposed shoulder as he releases her.
Lachlan smoothly hands her a handkerchief to clean the spittle off and takes a threatening step toward Grog, using his considerable height to intimidate Grog to remove his hold on her. “As a fellow council member, I want to remind you, Grog, that you are to remain impartial for these proceedings as we decide on a new Premier Witch. I also want to remind you that should you continue to degrade an upstanding member of our society, which Miss Rose is, I will be forced to bring you in front of our fellow council members to review you and your position. I advise you to think carefully before your next words, and,” Lachlan continues, his voice lowered menacingly, “if you touch Miss Rose again without her permission, I willendyou.” Lachlan steps back and casually sips his whiskey.
Grog’s eyes flash with surprise, then calculation. He looks pointedly between Lachlan and Petra. “I should watch what I say, hmm? Well, it seems as though someone else is having difficulty being impartial.” Tilting his head condescendingly, he leans toward Lachlan. “Maybe it is you who will need to come before the council and be sanctioned, Mr. Grace. I am sure it is unethical for you to be in a relationship with one of the candidates. What would the other members think? I truly wonder.” He leans back to an upright position with a sinister look. “It was truly a pleasure to see you both this evening. It has been…enlightening.” He turns on his heel and walks away.
Petra can feel the magic rumbling under her skin in fury, ready to explode. Lachlan places a hand on her arm and strokes her lightly. Soothingly. His hand is warm, the skin soft on her arm.
She feels her magic respond to his, instantly relaxing and flowing more smoothly inside her. Typically, it feels sharp and ready to stick to whatever she needs. But around him, it is smooth and almost fuzzy, like a velvet cloak, as if it was welcoming him into her warm embrace.
Lachlan softens his gaze, looking into her soul. “Are you okay?”
She nods gently, looking up through her lashes at him. “I am. Thank you. I’m not sure how I would have handled him without you here. I am sure that whatever I would have done or said would not have helped land me Premier Witch.”
He softly cups her chin, ensuring that he has her full attention and that she has his, “I would jump into a fire for you, Petra Rose. We are a team, and he was seriously out of line. He needed to be reminded of his place.” He brushes his hand across her cheek and down her arm.
Her cheeks warm as a blush rushes up her body. She holds his gaze for a moment longer than she should before saying, “Speaking of which, was what he said true? Is it unethical for us to be doing this? Will it hurt your position as a council member? I won’t do this if it does. I can find someone else.” She shivers, more as a stress response than being cold, but Lachlan catches the movement. Without asking, he removes his suit jacket and swings it behind her, placing it on her shoulders. The warmth from his body still captured within it, wrapping her up like a fresh cinnamon roll. Taking a breath, she breathes in his scent: bergamot, with a hint of honeysuckle. It’s heavenly.
“Don’t you dare,” he growls. “He’s just trying to scare you. I will deal with him and the council. You focus on making sure you get the title, which is rightfully yours, despite anything he may say.”
Petra stands back and takes a long look at Lachlan. “How did I get so lucky to land you as a friend, Mr. Grace?”
“Clearly, the Fates had a hand in it.” He looks around the room. “I’m not sure about you, but I have had enough of these people for one night. What do you say we get out of here and get a burger?” Lachlan asks, putting his elbow out for her to loop her arm into.
“That sounds magnificent,” she responds, accepting the invitation by guiding her arm into his and allowing him to lead her out. As she walks out, she knows she will need to tell him about her conversation with Sloan and Francesca, but for now, she wants to soak in this moment with him. She smiles, trying her best not to focus on how her power swirls and dances where Lachlan’s body is making contact with hers and failing miserably.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Petra
Petra, kneeling on the floor, marvels at the now empty and spotless fridge. Cleaning is much easier and quicker when magic is involved, but there is something to be said about the satisfaction of doing a deep clean with your hands. The monotony of the task lets her get lost in her thoughts, giving her time to process and find solutions to any problems she faces. Admittedly, an unhealthy portion of the day has been spent ruminating on the previous night’s conversations with Sloan and Francesca. These two witches made it abundantly clear that Petra had no place in their world. After spending so much time since leaving their presence, playing the conversation repeatedly in her mind, she begins to question whether they are right.
Questioning her ability comes easy. She’s never really wanted this. Yes, she loves being a witch and the relationships gained because of it. But she’s never wanted the spotlight, and it seems like everyone knows this. The glory that comes with the title, nor the responsibility, has never been appealing. For the last twenty years, she’s watched Gammy managing all of the politics and frustration that comes with being Premier Witch, and it’s just never been something that made her thinkI want that. Petra knows it is not hard to believe that Sloan and Francesca are right, and she wonders if the community would be better served by someone who wants it. Someone with the drive and desire necessary to handle the role. Someone who isn’t her.
But then the Rose family legacy would end with her. The expectation that she would take on the Premier Witch role and create a little witch of her own one day adds to the pressure she already feels. While she’s never thought of taking over as Premier Witch from Gammy, she’s also never considered having children. She likes working with them but also enjoys being able to go home and not have her own to care for. Would she be mandated to procreate, much like she’s being ordered to marry? Is that something she wants?
All of these thoughts swirl in her brain as she moves to clean the bathroom. Then, there’s the added complexity of Lachlan and whatever is happening between them. The thread between them seems to be strengthening, and she feels it tugging her toward him more and more. He’s offered to help her, but at what cost to him? What dreams does he have? How will their…arrangementchange his life and change their relationship? She doesn’t want to lose his friendship. She scrubs the shower roughly, working out her frustration and confusion. Can they keep their friendship intact after this fake marriage? Can she keep these feelings growing for him locked away?
Her phone rings in the kitchen, pulling her out of her reverie. She looks at the number and sees it’s the lobby of her building; someone wants in. She answers.
“Hello?”
“Hi, sweetie,” replies the visitor.
“Come on up,” she responds, surprised, as she pushes the button to open the door before hanging up. She unlocks her front door, knowing Gammy will walk right in, and returns to the kitchen to start the kettle.
She hears the door open and Gammy call out, “Where is my darling granddaughter?”
“I’m in the kitchen. Pardon the…mess,” Petra says, forgetting about the chaos she caused in her cleaning frenzy.
“Hello, love,” Gammy says as she enters the kitchen.
Petra hugs Gammy, holding on a little longer than usual, trying to soak up her presence. It was only two weeks ago that Gammy broke the news of her impending demise, altering the course of Petra’s life completely. Not that Gammy is at fault.
Gammy gives her a big squeeze and rubs her back in soothing circles. “It’s been a rough week, hasn’t it?”
“More than you know. But let’s not talk about me. What brings you here?” Petra asks.
