Chapter 19 Esmerelda #2
I find myself sliding into the seat beside him. It has to be the leftover worry, nothing else. The chair’s hard and uncomfortable, which only makes me think how much better it was sitting on his lap earlier. Yeah, I can’t be thinking stuff like this.
I raise a chin to the marker. “Okay, we should write that down.”
We reach for the Sharpie at the same time, fingers brushing. How long will it be before the spark from our touch stops affecting me this way?
“Pity our glamours faded,” Marcus mutters.
We all glance at Min.
“Don’t look at me. Mine and Leonard’s held. It was just you two.”
“Maybe the club had a dispel charm,” Leonard says.
“Maybe, but wouldn’t it have affected us too then?” Min queries.
Leonard smirks. “Then it must’ve been after you two locked lips. You know, true love’s kiss.”
Marcus and I snap our heads toward each other, identical horror painted on our faces.
Silence crashes over the room, and all I can hear is Marcus’s sharp and uneven breathing.
“Ahem.” Minerva clears her throat theatrically.
I blink hard, dragging myself out of the silence.
True love’s kiss, my ass. We hate each other.
We’re not star-crossed, we’re not fated.
We’re two people who were forced to marry, two people who endured the unthinkable and now have the same goal, and that’s the only reason this works. That’s it. End of story.
And yet…
As we shuffle notes across the table, my focus keeps drifting.
To him. To the way his hand brushes mine when we both reach for the same pen or paper.
To how he leans in at the exact angle I do, like our bodies already know the choreography of this messed-up partnership.
Maybe it’s always been like this and I just refused to see it.
Maybe Leonard’s stupid joke cracked something open, shoved a spotlight onto all the places our pieces line up.
It’s like when you’re thinking of buying a Jeep and suddenly every damn car you see on the road is a Jeep. Only this isn’t cars. It’s Marcus. Everywhere.
We’re debating dinner when a knock rattles the door. Too sharp. Too deliberate. The sound freezes us mid-sentence.
Marcus is on his feet instantly, a knife flashing in his hand. The air shifts, and my wolf surges, claws scraping at the inside of my skin, begging to tear into whatever threat is smart enough to find us here.
The knock comes again. Slower this time. Heavier. My pulse spikes. I hear Min’s breath catch, see Leonard’s jaw tense. For a heartbeat, it feels like the walls themselves are holding their breath with us.
Until…
“Min, I like big dicks and I cannot lie!”
Belvedere’s voice booms through the wood.
The tension snaps like a string pulled too tight. We all collapse into laughter, relief spilling out in ragged bursts. My knees feel weak, the wolf inside me snarling in frustration before slinking back down.
Min doesn’t hesitate. She flings the door wide and launches herself into Belvedere’s arms. “You scared me to death.”
“I apologize,” Belvedere says smoothly. “I tried to call, but no one picked up.”
We all exchange sheepish looks.
“We were… a little busy,” Leonard admits.
“Come in,” I say. We can’t afford to attract any attention by lingering in doorways.
Belvedere sweeps inside, lilac tote swinging from his shoulder.
“Can I get you something to drink? Water? Tea?” My eyes sweep to Belvedere’s friend. She looks terrified to death but there’s a powerful tension crackling within her.
“I assumed provisions would be scarce.” He pulls out a bottle of whiskey like it’s a magic trick.
“Oh, thank the gods,” Min mutters. “It’s been a day.”
“Everyone,” Belvedere continues, “I’d like you to meet Serafina Minto-ho-yo. She’s Councilwoman Tallulah’s sister. She’s been doing her own investigation into the petrification.”
We all freeze, wary. If she’s here to point fingers…
“Hello,” she says softly. Just one word, but it holds so much grief. And something else I can’t quite name.
My wolf bristles as the image of Tallulah’s face petrifying flashes through my mind. I bite back bile. If Serafina blames us, I’m not sure I can keep my claws in check.
Marcus inclines his head, and I feel the suspicion radiating off him.
Belvedere pours us all a hefty shot of whiskey, and the discussion cuts straight to the bone. Serafina explains that she uncovered someone close to us was responsible for slipping poison into the wine. Someone from our circle. Not human. Not wolf. We were infiltrated. I freeze at the betrayal.
“A changeling. Seris, to be exact.” Belvedere confirms grimly. “For hire. One of the worst.”
The name lands like a curse. Min hisses. Leonard swears. But my heart stills fractionally. It wasn’t one of our own, only someone disguised as such.
“This monster’s already been banned from Europe and Australia,” Leonard says. “Assassinations. Kidnappings. Blackmail. You name it.”
“They vanish between jobs,” Serafina adds. “But they’ll take coin again. And when they do…”
“…we blindside them.” Belvedere’s grin is sharp and humorless. “I know their hideout. We won’t get another chance.”
Plans spill across the table until my head aches. Still, unease knots in my gut. A changeling for hire means no one is safe. Not in their own homes. Not even in their own skin.
It’s nearly three in the morning when we all decide to get some sleep. Marcus hovers near the couch, scowling down at me.
“You should take the bed,” he mutters. “I’ll sleep out here.”
I arch a brow. “Don’t be stupid. You won’t rest out there.”
He shakes his head. Stubborn as always.
“Marcus.” My voice softens, surprising me. “Just… sleep next to me. Nothing’s going to happen. We need rest.”
It looks like he’s going to argue, but then he nods stiffly and follows me. We get into bed awkwardly and lie back-to-back, a wall of silence between us.
I have to force myself to lie still, to keep my breathing even, or Marcus will know I’m wide awake. Will he know I’m replaying every second of that kiss? Gods, I kissed him.
I could blame the cover story. That we were just playing the part of a “real” couple and got swept up in the act. But if that’s all it was, then why is my mouth still tingling like it’s starved without him? Why do I want to roll over and do it again, consequences be damned?
Because it was amazing, you idiot. My wolf hums in agreement, smug and restless. One kiss, and the ground beneath me shifted. One kiss, and suddenly I’m the kind of girl who lies in the dark, wondering how his mouth would taste if I asked for more.
I tune into the rhythm of his breathing. It’s too steady, too measured. He’s having trouble falling asleep, too.
I guess it would be wishful thinking to imagine he’s lying there, tortured by the kiss too.