Page 20 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
The building itself was familiar in a way that settled her nerves. Four apartments upstairs—hers, Ivy’s, a reclusive older man’s, and a young artist’s, who’d left paint smears along the hallway and around her doorknob. Below, the first floor held a mix of businesses that made up the heart of the block.
The corner bookstore, crammed with everything from bestsellers to dusty old tomes; the sandwich shop, where the smell of fresh bread and sizzling meat still triggered memories of her first job; the antique store, where the right eyes could spot magical glamours woven into the displays. And finally, the Charis Foundation’s office—small, neat, and buzzing with quiet purpose.
This was where she belonged: in the steady rhythm of this building, this street. Here, where life made sense.
Tonight, though, even the comfort of her office couldn’t settle her nerves. Any minute now, Lochlan would arrive, and she’d follow him to a home she couldn’t imagine and a life she hadn’t asked for. She worried about what the coming weeks held and what would happen when she saw Lochlan again. And also: who the heck was Jade?
Every way she might succeed in winning back her freedom was written on a notepad in her desk.
1. One of us is in love with someone else.
Nia knew that would never happen with her. She purposely sought out partners that screamed one night stand, so she hoped whoever this Jade was would throw a wrench in her father’s plan.
Though the thought of another person holding Lochlan’s affections made something shift beneath her skin. Just slightly. A faint prickle of shadows stirred at her back before the magic faded. It was probably better not to think about that.
2. They were utterly incompatible.
That felt less easy. After the initial shock of waking up married, she found herself liking Lochlan. He was calm, quiet, and not bad to look at. But that didn’t mean love. That certainly didn’t mean marriage. But, if she were looking for friends, he might be at the top of her prospect list.
3. Murder.
Murdering her father was an option. A difficult one—what with his mind-reading powers and his whole all-powerful Sword of the Goddess thing—but not impossible. She had spells. She had tricks. She just needed an opening.
As The Sword, Wulfric was the goddess’s mouthpiece among supernaturals. Keeper of rituals, interpreter of signs, and self-declared authority on what counted as sacred. He didn’t control everything, but the things he did were enough to make people kneel. And worse? They adored him for it.
Nia knew the truth—Wulfric came from a long line of tyrants dressed as divine keepers. Just because he wore the title convincingly didn’t make him any less of a monster.
But before she could contemplate possible patricide, she had to get through her first night with Lochlan. Nia envisioned some sort of domestic torment: fighting over the remote, his dirty clothes all over the place, him using her toothbrush. Horror movie stuff.
The rumbling of a truck jolted her to her feet. She left her office and peered through the waiting area windows. Lochlan sat behind the wheel, parked in front of her motorcycle. She watched as he took a deep breath and stepped out.
When he rounded the front of the truck his eyes instantly found hers.
She walked to the door and waved awkwardly. A few too many birds fluttered around her rib cage as he stepped into the Charis space.
“Hi, Nia.”
“Hi, Lochlan.”
Did her voice always sound so breathless?
“So, where do we go so you can grab what you need?”
She arched a brow. “You mean besides upstairs, where I live?”
He winced. “Right. I meant to ask if you’ve packed.”
“I have.” Her tone softened just a little.
He nodded and followed her gesture to the adjoining office. When he reappeared, her beat-up suitcase looked almost comically small in his hand.
“This is it?” he asked, his voice low and even.
“Yes.”
He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at her. “Ready?”
Nia nodded, trailing after him as he carried her bag to his truck. He placed it gently in the passenger seat. She locked the office door, double-checking it out of habit, and when she turned back, he stood there, waiting. Their eyes met and a flash of memory hit her.
