Page 43 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
There it was—feelings. Big, messy, gushy ones for this man who looked at her with so much worry over whatever nonsense Ivy texted him. They’d known each other for a week, yet he was ready to drop everything and rush to her side.
Nia drank him in: wild hair, dark eyes, the concern etched across his face. She’d been avoiding him for days, wasting hours in the tunnels, grasping at any excuse to stay away. But there was no avoiding him now. They stared at each other, the space between them thick with unspoken words.
“Whoa,” Ivy said, slicing through the tension like a blade. “You two, I swear.” She fanned herself dramatically before turning to Lochlan. “What happened is that I need you two to go on a double date with me.”
Nia barely had time to process the shift before Lochlan blinked, his concern giving way to confusion. “No one is hurt?”
“I’m hurt!” Ivy whined.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, baffled as he studied her with genuine worry.
Nia rolled her eyes. Ivy fed on chaos, could sense it like a pulse in the air, and right now, she was practically buzzing with it. No doubt she could feel the tangled mess between Nia and Lochlan, and was enjoying every second of it.
“I’m lonely and sad and no one wants to be with me!” Ivy wailed, throwing her arms up.
“She thinks she’s cursed,” Nia deadpanned.
“I am cursed!” Ivy insisted.
Lochlan let out a long breath and dragged a hand over his forehead, like this entire conversation had physically drained him. “Okay,” he said roughly. “Okay, that’s fine. You said a double date?”
“You’ll go?” Ivy asked, practically bouncing with excitement.
“Of course,” Lochlan replied, his attention turning back to Nia. The energy between them shifted, quieter, gentler. “Whatever you need.”
Nia’s stomach twisted. She wasn’t sure if it was guilt, gratitude, or something more dangerous. She managed a small nod, but her mind raced. What did she need? The answer should have been simple: escape, distance, an end to this charade. Instead, all she could think about was him.
And how he was making her question every promise she’d ever made to herself.
Rosé & Reverie was designed to evoke romance: soft lighting, plush seating, and an air of quiet intimacy woven into every detail. The love witch who owned it had laced the space with magic, a subtle enchantment humming beneath the surface. Regs couldn’t identify magic the way witches could, but they could still feel it: the glow, the ambiance, the way everything seemed to slow, like the night itself was leaning in to listen.
None of that was enough to make Nia forget she’d been bamboozled by Ivy and fist-bumped by her tardy date, Daniel.
The juggernaut was clad in a cutoff shirt, in freaking autumn. He chewed loudly on a piece of bread, the rest of the loaf held hostage behind one meaty arm.
Every aggressive bite made Nia’s eye twitch.
She didn’t even want to read him. But her magic moved on instinct when it came to protecting the only person she loved. Sweet, sunshine-hearted Ivy clearly didn’t see the warning signs flashing in human form across the table. So Nia reached. Just a brush against the darker parts of him: the quiet places most people tried to hide.
She instantly hated him.
No regret. No fear. Just ego, loud and hollow. Daniel’s darkness wasn’t born from suffering, but entitlement.
Lochlan’s hand gently wrapped around hers. Only then did Nia realize she was gripping her fork like a weapon. She blinked, stealing a glance at him as she let out a slow, measured breath and eased her grip.
“So, Daniel,” Lochlan began.
“Big D,” Daniel interrupted, mouth still full of bread.
Lochlan remained patient. “I’d rather not call you that.”
“But it’s true. I’m Big D.” Daniel’s pecs flexed under his shirt as he winked at Ivy then turned back to Lochlan. “Bigger than you.”
This was a ridiculous thing to say on what was supposed to be a double date. Nia nearly bent her fork in half. Lochlan didn’t so much as blink. “So, what do you do for work?” he asked, as if Daniel wasn’t embarrassing himself.
“I’m in supplement sales.” He curled an arm to show off an unnaturally large bicep. This, Nia realized, must be why he was wearing a cut-off.
“And is that rewarding?” she asked.
