Page 52 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
She floated into existence.
The living room pulsed faintly with a purple hue, the atmosphere wrong—heavy, distorted. Nia sat up, the air around her shifting like a slow, rhythmic heartbeat.
No. No. No.
She knew this place: she was in the astral plane, the place her father loved to hunt. A memory slammed into her, unbidden.
The attic, candles flickering in a perfect circle. Her father sitting cross-legged in the center, eyes milky white, lips moving in a soundless chant. The room’s energy dense and oppressive, pressing against her lungs. Her father finally coming back to himself, looking at her like this wasn’t scary for a child to see. “I’m watching our enemies,” he said calmly. “The ones who believe magic should rule out in the open. The ones who would tear down everything we’ve built.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Making sure no one gets too close.”
Nia swallowed hard, pulse pounding in her throat. She turned her head and her breath hitched.
Her own body lay curled on the couch, Jade no longer resting at her side. The dog stood rigid, her gaze locked onto the space just behind Nia. A low, warning growl rumbled in her chest.
Nia turned slowly. And there he was, floating like a nightmare, his presence suffocating the room.
Her father.
“I’ll ask again, daughter,” Wulfric said, his voice low and dangerous. “Why are you sleeping on the couch?”
Nia stiffened, trying to keep her breathing steady. “How did you get into my head? I have things in place to stop this.”
“Your guards fell. I took that as an invitation,” he said, almost gently. Then his voice cooled. “But the one who let you end up like that, on a couch, unshielded, should be ashamed.”
Her father’s fury was a force she had only witnessed a handful of times, and never directed at her. He thought Lochlan had forced her here, and she didn’t correct him. Not because it was true. Not because she was afraid. But because saying so meant acknowledging how much of her heart was already his, and that scared her more than her father ever could.
“Where I sleep is none of your concern,” Nia replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m here because of you.”
She loved it here—being in Lochlan’s home, surrounded by his quiet care—but she couldn’t admit that to her father.
“You don’t even have a blanket,” Wulfric muttered, his form turning as he rubbed his face in frustration.
Jade’s growl deepened, her stance stiff and protective.
“I’ll do something about this,” Wulfric declared.
“Stay out of it!” Nia snapped. “Stay out of my life!”
He turned back to her, his expression softening in a way she didn’t trust. He sounded sincere when he said, “I just want what’s best for you.”
But she didn’t believe him.
“It’s my right to decide what that is,” she said, her resolve hardening. “Let me choose Lochlan on my own.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her chest tightened as Wulfric’s brows lifted, his expression shifting—not with anger, but something far worse.
Curiosity.
“Well, well,” he murmured, amused. A knowing smile curved his lips. “Let’s do dinner Sunday. We have much to discuss.”
Then he vanished, leaving her stranded on the plane, the purple haze thickening for a moment before fading. Nia exhaled shakily, forcing herself to focus. She had been astral projecting since she was young—finding her way back to her body was second nature.
Before she could settle, though, she noticed Jade approach her sleeping form, her growl dissipating as she nudged Nia’s face with her nose.
“Leave her,” Lochlan’s voice murmured, gentle but firm enough to stop the dog.
Nia’s astral form stilled as she watched Lochlan move closer, shirtless and wearing only sweatpants. For a moment, the sight of him was enough to obliterate every thought of her father. She would deal with Wulfric and his meddling tomorrow.
Right now, there was only Lochlan.
