Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lightning flashes across the sky as thunder booms so loud it rattles the glass. It becomes so dark outside as angry grey clouds roll in and a torrent of rain smashes against the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I made it rain.
Without conscious thought, my mood has affected the weather.
I refused to cry, so the realm does it for me.
I stare at the sheets of rain, matching what I feel inside, and my guilty thoughts go to Erin and the other dryads.
I’m sure the trees will welcome a drink unless I flood the bloody place.
I push the clouds apart and release the odd energy in the atmosphere.
What I need to do is work. It’s what I am good at.
I drag the datapad towards me and click back to my business plan.
I studiously make a note that I need to improve the residential suites.
It will take me a while to gather the power needed, those damn fae warriors and their power sucking visit.
I absentmindedly brush my magic against the realms. I can’t… my thought trails off.
It should be almost empty from the giant portals and everything, but it is full to bursting. That is not right.
What has it done? Have I accidentally hurt someone?
Oh no, no-no-no.
My overwhelming panic makes me shake like a leaf.
I feel sick. I knew. I knew I should not have trusted this cursed place.
With a pulse of power that I will no doubt regret, as it makes my head spin and my heart pound in my ears.
I close my eyes and spread my magic out as I would when healing a body.
Against the blackness of my eyelids, the realm’s map appears.
As each guest pops up, I urgently do a mental check on them.
I start with the elves and the shifters in reception and work slowly outward to the fae in the woods.
My entire body sags against the desk as I discover each person is safe and accounted for. Thank the stars.
The realm has not stolen a smidgen of power. In fact, all my guests are glowing a little more with each second that passes. Huh. While my magic is still doing its thing, I tap into the realm’s magic a little harder.
I need to know more. I discover an immense bubbling pool of power at its centre.
It was not there before. I frown. As tentatively as I can, and with the same creeping delicate fingers of magic I used with Owen, I explore the edges of the deep well.
I see where the trickles of power and rivers of magic are coming from.
A relieved laugh spills out of me as I realise what I am seeing: the dimensional realm does not need to steal power.
The power, kind of like the formation of clouds, happens naturally.
The invisible energy that radiates off every living creature sheds naturally into the air.
I can somehow see it. Under normal circumstances, I would only feel the power when someone like Forrest is scarily powerful.
But on my mental map, I see it. I see Forrest glowing like the sun and all my other guests moving stars around her.
Their power saturates the air, condenses, and forms into invisible droplets.
Which then pool into the realm’s well of power.
The varied creature presence alone is enough to replenish the magic. The magic then meets the guests’ needs, including my own.
Magical symbiosis.
It never needed to take any power by force. The entire revolting sacrifice saga was a complete farce. Did the other hosts know? Gosh, this changes everything.
Unless… I open my eyes and blink as they re-adjust to the bright light of my office.
Unless the magic is fooling me. My stomach dips, and I groan.
I sink my head on the desk. Perhaps I need some time out in the real world to get my head on straight.
I need to think without any interference, as it’s obvious the magic wants me here.
I don’t know what is real.
I don’t know if I am being manipulated.
I can’t trust myself.
Of course, I can’t trust myself—I convinced myself that I was in love with a complete stranger, and all the while he was in love with another girl.
I turn my head and my cheek presses into the frigid glass of the desk.
First, I need to eat to replenish my energy, then wait for the elves and shifters to leave.
Then spend a few hours away from this crazy place.
There is a rustle in the hallway, of scales rubbing together, then a scrape of claws on the wood. With a grin, I leap from the chair and fling open the door. Daisy scampers in.
“Hey, pretty princess, this is a pleasant surprise,” I say in a singsong voice.
“How did you get down here with the magic blocking reception?” I firmly close the door behind her and sit back down.
I wouldn’t put it past her to Step. I hold out my hands and wiggle my fingers.
Daisy jumps, her wings flap, and she gains enough height to land on my lap.
“Perfect landing. You are getting so good,” I praise.
With a deep contented purr rumbling in the back of her throat, she tucks in her wings and curls into a ball. I gently stroke along her spine and sniff. This is nice. Normal. I blink a few times. I am not crying.
A mug of hot tea is balanced on my tummy.
I grab the individually wrapped piece of Terry’s Chocolate Orange.
The chocolate normally comes in a bar or in a fancy orange shaped ball that you have to tap on a hard surface to unleash the orange milk chocolate segments.
But this packet is special. It has all different flavours of chocolate mixed with the famous orange.
I narrow my eyes and my mouth waters as I fiddle with the wrapper one-handed as my other hand precariously balances the cup.
This one is white chocolate. Daisy, who is now sitting on my desk, watches my antics with interest. She juts out her head and with her left nostril, sniffs at the chocolate.
She wrinkles her muzzle, completely unimpressed.
“No? Good. Chocolate isn’t for dragonettes,” I tell her wisely.
The plastic wrapper rustles and the piece of white chocolate jumps.
A sound of dismay leaves my lips as, with only the one hand, already encumbered with the wrapper, I’m unable to catch the runaway treat in time.
The chocolate falls. “Noooo,” I groan, horrified as it falls the wrong way, plopping into the cup with a splash.
My poor tea.
I like my tea super-hot, so I can’t just stick my fingers in and fish it out. Jodie, my sister, says I have an asbestos mouth, that no tea can be too hot for me to drink. I shrug and strum the porcelain. What can I do?
I stare down at my cup mournfully. I tip it, but I’m unable to see past its brown watery depths. Never mind. I was going to dip it in any way. I guess now I will have to wait to eat it.
I take a sip. Like a tea connoisseur, I tilt my head to the side and smack my lips.
Huh, the tea tastes the same. I wiggle my fingers over the bag, and with a dramatic flourish, I close my eyes and reach inside.
I crack my left eye open. Oooh, this one is dark chocolate.
This time, I unwrap it well away from the cup.
Once I take the last sip of my brew, I grin when I spy the white blob nestled at the bottom.
I tip the cup to my mouth and give it a shake.
“Come to me, my sweet,” I mumble. The white mass doesn’t want to move, so I bang the cup on my bottom lip to encourage it.
I watch in cross-eyed fascination as the blob oozes towards my mouth.
Slowly, oh so slowly.
“Gah, come on.” I stick my tongue into the cup to give it a prod of encouragement. I grin when the melted goo hits my taste buds.
Yum.
I’ll have to remind myself to do this again. I could become a superfan of tea-melted chocolate goo.
When my tongue can’t reach the remaining chocolate, I stuff my entire hand into the cup. I hum as I use my index finger to scoop up the chocolate trail. Once collected and the evidence from the chocolate mishap erased, I lick my finger clean.
Still humming around the finger in my mouth, I lift my eyes. The hellhound is leaning against the wall. Staring at me. My finger comes out of my mouth with a pop.
I wince.
His grey eyes dance with amusement. “Here you are.”
“Here I am,” I say as I duck my head and play with the empty cup. I ignore Daisy’s happy yip as she greets the hellhound. The traitor. My fingers trace the handle, and my eyes fixate on the movement. I can’t look at him.
“Why did you run off?” he asks gruffly.
Owen isn’t wearing his normal combat gear. Instead, the hellhound has on grey suit trousers and a black shirt and tie. He looks gorgeous. My stomach flips as if I have got a load of fairies bouncing about in there. Bouncing around drunk.
His big body moves, and he prowls across the room. He stands next to the chair. The heat and the masculine smell of him fills my senses. My mind flashes back to his nakedness and I feel my cheeks go instantly red.
Ah shit.
“I…” Tell him the truth. My heart hammers in my chest and my stomach feels as if those stupid drunk fairies go crazy inside me. I lick my lips. “I wanted to give you and your girl privacy.”
“My girl?” Owen’s voice rumbles. “What? Who? Do you mean Forrest?” He laughs.
It’s not bloody funny. I can feel the red from my cheeks spreading down my neck and onto my chest. Anger bubbles inside me. Women should build each other up, not tear each other down. Yet, this hellhound thinks the entire thing is hilarious. I will not mess with another girl’s man.
My hand tightens on the cup, and I hunch into myself. I must seem so pathetic.
“Hey. Hey, Tuesday, look at me.”
I shake my head. His big hand cups my chin and he tilts my head so I meet his eyes. “I haven’t got a girl. Forrest is like my adorable, crazy, annoying little sister. I love her; she is pack.” I freeze and my breath sticks in my throat. “I’m single, Flash.”
He. Is. Single.
The magic doesn’t ping. He isn’t lying, not that I think he would, but… Oh my, he isn’t with Forrest.
“You are? You are single?” I whisper.
“I am. What about you?” His dexterous fingers of his other hand knead the area behind Daisy’s horns, and she wraps her tail around his wrist.
“Urm… single. Very, urm, single,” I squeak out as I do a bizarre movement with my hands.
Owen chuckles. “Are you now?” He moves so close that I can see little blue flecks dancing in his eyes. I gasp and breathe in his warm, minty breath and the fresh scent of soap. He’s had a shower.
“Yes,” I croak.
“That is good to know.” My heart almost stops at his breath-taking smile. “But you won’t be single for long. Not if I have any say in it. I am gonna make you mine, Flash.” My mouth pops open, and Owen brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. The taste of him fills my mouth.
“You are?” I rasp against his thumb. “Me?”
Oh.
My entire body is on fire. He is so close I can feel the whisper of his breath on my lips.
I squirm in my seat as he closes the scant inches between us.
I go cross-eyed as I watch him. He kisses the tip of my nose.
And then the left side of my mouth. Then the right.
Not quite a kiss. I have the sudden desire to feel that full mouth on mine.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispers roughly.
“Oh, thank—” Before I can say more, Owen swoops in and wraps his arms around me.
He lifts me from the chair and into his body.
He growls. The sound is so deep, it rumbles in his chest. My heart skips a beat.
Dumbfounded and so turned on, I think I’m going to explode. I close the gap between our lips.
I’m kissing him! I am kissing him! And he’s kissing me back!
Bumper cars, my addled brain whispers strangely.
Wow, the hellhound has fried my brain. It’s like an impact of pillowy bumper cars.
His lips are firm, but also so soft. Owen tilts my chin to get a better angle to pillage my mouth.
His tongue nudges against my lips and I open.
Oh my goodness. Our tongues twirl together.
This is an epic kiss.
Way too soon, he pulls away from my mouth, and I follow his lips with a tiny, disappointed moan. “Your dad gave me a heads up—he had an interesting conversation with our friend, Mac. Your coven will arrive any minute.”
Dazed, I blink at him and rub my lips together. They are tingling in the best way. “Okay…” I say dreamily. “Can we… at some point… urm, do that again?” My voice comes out breathless, as if I’ve run a mile.
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”