Page 64 of With This Witch
“How long ago did she leave?”
“About ten minutes,” she snivels.
“Okay. Okay. Listen, it’s not your fault. This is Grog and solely him. He has had it out for the Roses for a while. Add in the fact that he doesn’t like me, and it’s like a fucking holiday for him. I have to go, but know I don’t blame you,” he reassures her.
She gives him a slight nod before he turns around and ports out of her driveway, appearing in front of the council building, hoping he can intercept Petra.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
Petra
Petra parks outside the council building. She readjusts her skirt and checks her teeth in the side mirror before mounting the steps to go inside. She places her hand on the long golden door handle and steps forward. As she lifts her foot, a familiar voice calls her name. She turns to see Lachlan running toward her.
Letting go of the door, she steps aside, allowing others to enter as she waits for him to reach her. When he does, he is breathing heavily, as if he’d just completed a marathon, and his appearance is frenzied. His hair is disheveled, unbound, and sticking in many directions. He wears sweatpants and a hoodie, his shoelaces undone.
“Lach, I said everything I needed to in the note I left,” she says before he can catch his breath. “I know you are worried about any repercussions for you, but I plan to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
“I don’t give a fuck about me, Petra,” he practically bellows. “Just give me two minutes.”
She reaches for the door again, saddened. She hoped she could get through this without a scene from him. It’s hard enough to submit her powers in exchange for his safety. Seeing him in this state, unlike the composed man she knows, is enough to ruin her. “Lach, I have to go.”
“Petra. Please,” he begs. He takes hold of her hand, entwining his fingers in his. “Let’s talk first, and if you still feel the same way after, I won’t stop you.”
A current of heat flows from the point of contact, grounding her. Calming her. She wonders how such a slight touch can have this effect. Without the touch, she would have had no problem turning her back and walking into that room. Instead, she wavers. She looks down at their hands and then up into his steely blues and nods, giving in.
He guides her to a bench just down the hall from the ornate doors leading to the council room. The hallway has emptied significantly. All that remains now are staffers and the odd community member running late, evident by the quickened clicking of footsteps on the marble floor. They sit with their bodies turned toward each other, knees touching, and their clasped hands resting between them.
She runs her free hand over his cheek, briefly cupping his face before running it back into his hair, trying to smooth it, but she only seems to make it worse. His head turns into her hand, seeking a brief embrace. A sad smile spreads across her lips. She’s going to miss this, this closeness and companionship that she found with him. It was short-lived, but it felt right.
“You can’t go in there and sacrifice yourself.”
She huffs a breath. “Lach, I have to. There’s no other way around this.”
“No, you don’t. Listen, Grog is power-hungry. He wants control over the council and can’t do that with a Rose there. He wants to put people on the council he can control. We see that in his selection of Sloan and in the various company he keeps. We can’t let him win.” His voice is low and pleading.
What he says makes sense, but it would be so much easier if she just gave up her candidacy for Premier Witch. Would she be upset with the results? Absolutely. Does she know what life would look like for her, no longer a witch? Absolutely not. But for her, the risk of uncertainty is better than going through all of this to lose anyway.
“But if I sacrifice myself, everyone else wins.”
Goddess, that sounded way too martyr-y.
The look in his eyes is searching, pleading for her to see he is right.
“No, they won’t. Trust me. I’ve worked alongside Grog long enough to know that this will not be where it ends. We can find another way. We have time.”
“But we don’t. I don’t know how long this forum will take or what they will put us through, but in the end, the result will still be the same. The council will find a way to deem our marriage unacceptable, she says, looking down at the floor rather than at him. “Besides, we don’t love each other, Lach,” she whispers, barely loud enough for him to hear.
He pauses for a long moment, then finally says, “Are you sure about that?”
Petra looks up at him, uncertain and tentative. “What do you mean?”
“Are you sure we don’t love each other? That we aren’t meant to be more thanjust friends?”
She flinches slightly, hearing the hurt in his tone. She never wanted to hurt him. She never should have slept with him. It muddied things up, and now his feelings are involved.
Petra pulls her hand from his, turning away from him. She rests her forearms on her thighs and hangs her head, processing. Her head tells her to go into that council room and offer her power in exchange. To admit to the lie. But her heart. Oh, but her heart. Her heart is telling her to look at that man beside her. To listen to him. To give this a chance. To weather the storm.
She sighs, and perhaps, against her better judgment, she makes a decision.
