Page 63 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
Her shadows snapped.
A sharp, magical pulse thrummed through the air, vibrating in the tight confines of the closet. It was a warning, insistent and unmistakable, and it hit her like a cold splash of water.
Her heart stuttered as reality crashed back in.
“Wait,” she gasped, shoving Lochlan away with a force that surprised even her.
He stumbled back, his breathing ragged, his expression a mix of shock and hurt. The trace of pain in his eyes twisted something deep inside her, and for a moment, her fingers twitched with the need to pull him close again, to undo what she had just done.
But the shadows pulsed a second time, dragging her back to the danger she had momentarily forgotten. Someone was passing through the magical barrier she’d created.
“I think my father’s coming,” Nia whispered, panic edging her voice.
Her hands flew to smooth down her hair, trembling as she scrambled for anything—anything—to make it seem like she hadn’t just been tangled up with Lochlan and seconds away from dry humping him in a closet under the stairs in her childhood home. The charged air between them felt suffocating, a storm of tension and heat that made it impossible to think.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her fingers twitching as she reached for her magic. “Skin of mine, break and burn, welt and writhe?—”
She didn’t even need to finish the words. A pulse of energy swept over her skin like a flash of heat, followed by an agonizing itch. Red welts erupted across her arms, her neck, and even along her collarbone, angry and raw, as if her very body was rebelling against her. The hives burned and prickled.
“Nia, no.” Lochlan’s voice was low, horrified. He stared at her, his expression twisted with worry. “What are you doing to yourself?”
Before she could answer, the closet door swung open.
Wulfric stood there, his appraising gaze sweeping the space. His eyes lingered on Lochlan’s disheveled state, the flush still visible on his cheeks, and the tension crackling in the air between them. Finally, his focus shifted to the welts marring Nia’s skin.
“See?” Nia snapped, turning her glare on Lochlan. “I’m allergic…” Her voice caught, and she couldn’t bring herself to say allergic to you. She stomped her foot instead, her frustration bubbling over. “That’s why I came in here—to get away!”
She rounded on her father, glaring. “And now you’re here too!” Her arms flailed as she gestured between the two men, her emotions spiraling out of control.
Wulfric’s amused expression faltered, replaced by concern. His voice softened, though it remained firm. “Nia, you need a healer.”
“What I need,” she bit out, shoving past them and storming out of the closet, “is space. From both of you!”
Her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she marched away, her skin still burning with the magic of the jinx. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.
She stormed through the house, her skirt swishing angrily behind her. The front door creaked as she stepped onto the porch, the fresh night air washing over her like a salve. Folding her arms, she leaned against the railing, staring out at the expanse of yard, and waited.
It was only a minute or two before Lochlan appeared. His steps were hurried as he pushed through the door, the faint flush of concern still visible on his face. Nia didn’t meet his gaze as she muttered the counter-spell under her breath: “Skin of mine, heal and calm. Burn no more, soothe and balm.”
The relief was instantaneous. The welts faded away, leaving her skin cool and smooth, though a dull ache lingered where they’d been. She exhaled softly, and Lochlan mirrored her, letting loose a relieved sigh.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, without looking at him, she reached out, letting her pinky brush against his.
“Want to get coffee?” she asked quietly.
CHAPTER 22
Nia
“WE HAVE YOUR OCTOBER STELLA RUNE ITINERARY!” —THE STELLA RUNE GAZETTE
Nia loved the tunnels under Stella Rune. Some parts were narrow, barely wide enough for two people to pass through, but then they would open into wide expanses that held cafes and magical stores. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of saltwater, ancient stone, and a lingering trace of magic. The tunnels had started as sea caves, and over centuries were shaped and expanded by supernaturals into the winding network now hidden beneath the town.
She glanced over at Lochlan, noticing the way his shoulders had tensed.
“What’s wrong?” Nia asked. “I told you, I’m fine.” She tugged up her sleeve, revealing clear skin where the angry welts had been. “See? No lasting damage.”
Lochlan’s frown deepened as he kept his gaze ahead. “You shouldn’t have done that to yourself,” he muttered.
