Chapter Nine
Chapter
Nine
Colbie
Ispend a good portion of my evening reading, especially because the bakery will be closed tomorrow due to the retirement celebration.
I am not sad about a forced holiday, but I was still up early, and I can barely keep my eyes open by the time ten o’clock comes around.
I am definitely not a night owl. I put a recipe card into the page I’m on and place it on my bedside table.
Turning off all the lights in the house, I grab a glass of water and turn in.
I lie in bed, thinking about what I might do tomorrow since I haven’t had a day off in a while.
I think I’ll go visit my grandparents in the human zone.
I’m almost positive they are not caught up in all the king and queen hype.
Happy with my decision, I close my eyes and feel my tired body relax, drifting off to sleep, but my sleep is not restful.
I toss and turn, my dreams filled with snarling animals, jealous women, and magic.
At one stage, I jolted awake, feeling pain in my wrists from being kidnapped and shackled by some unnamed assailant.
I’m breathing heavily, and I rub my wrists, trying to ease the discomfort. Holy crap, the pain from my dream traveled into real life! That was some very lucid dreaming. I glare at the book on my bedside table. I’m almost certain it’s responsible for the ridiculous thoughts in my head.
I get up and go to my bathroom cabinet, pulling out a bottle of sleeping pills I was prescribed when I first started my bakery and had trouble adjusting my circadian rhythm to the required hours.
I pop two into my mouth before washing them down with the glass of water and climbing back into my bed.
The rest of my night better be dream free.
The pills work, and I wake up feeling better than I had.
Although the dreams were not as vivid, I remember a voice talking to me.
It was muffled and unclear, and I guess not all that important if I can’t even remember what they were saying to me, but that’s the way of dreams. The only ones you do remember vividly are the ones that scare the crap out of you.
I push my hair back from my face and grimace. I definitely need to wash it today. I keep it tied back in a ponytail or a braid while at work, but I like to wear it down on my random days off, and greasy is not a good look.
Throwing the covers back, I head to the bathroom and turn on the shower, stripping off the tank top I wore to bed and sliding my panties down my legs.
Both bits of cloth end up in the laundry basket.
Stepping under the steaming stream, I close my eyes and tip my head back.
I let the water run over my hair before reaching up and lifting it from my neck.
My hair is thick, so if I just stand here, only the top gets wet.
Once it’s drenched, I reach for the shampoo and lather it into my hair before rinsing it off and repeating with the conditioner.
I let that sit for a while and wash my body using my loofah gloves, groaning at how good it feels to scrub my skin raw.
Seriously, there is nothing better than a good exfoliation.
Finally, I rinse my hair and turn off the faucet.
Stepping out, I wrap my hair in a towel before drying myself off.
I reach out to drag a hand across the foggy mirror and freeze.
What the fuck is around my wrist? I snatch my hand back and look down at the gold mark around it.
It looks like someone grabbed my wrist too hard and squeezed.
I hurry to my bedside table and get my reading glasses.
I don’t wear them as much as I should, but last night, my eyes got tired, and the words started to blur.
Putting them on, I study the mark on my wrist. Holy shit, it looks like faded, gold crescent shapes with a pretty scroll to link it together.
My stomach rolls, and I grab my bathroom sink for stability.
No, this can’t be right. I lift my other hand to rub the marks and squeal when I notice it, too, has the same markings.
My heart skips a beat as I realize where I have seen a tattoo like this before—not crescents, but phases of the moon.
King Lucas has a similar tattoo down the side of his face.
His is a lot more masculine than mine, and he doesn’t have pretty filigree linking the phases.
“No, no, no.” I think back to last night and try to remember what time I had that dream.
Did I look at the clock? No, I didn’t pick up my phone.
This can’t be what I think it is. I rub harder before picking up the soap and scrubbing the marks.
They don’t budge. Tears stream down my face as I stare at the marks in horror.
I can’t be marked as the next queen of the shifters.
I’m not cut out for it. I hate confrontation, and I’m not good with people.
Those shifters are going to walk all over me.
Nope, it’s not going to happen. I’m going to hide the marks, and they can keep looking.
Nobody knows about the marks but me, and if I don’t tell anyone, no one is going to be any wiser.
I bet if I make a trip to the witch kingdom, there would be a spell that would help me hide the marks.
I need to apply for a travel pass immediately.
It takes at least a week for it to be approved.
In shock, I dry off and get dressed. I could hide in my house all day, but I bet my mother is going to come find me to ask why I didn’t go to the party and tell me all the gossip from last night.
If she sees the marks, she’s going to ask questions, and she has always been able to see through my lies.
It took the fun out of being a teenager.
Where should I go? I don’t want to go to the bakery, I don’t want to be anywhere in the neutral zone today.
People will be on the lookout for someone with unusual markings, but if I disappear completely, it will be suspicious.
Maybe I’ll tell Olivia, Justin, and Violet that my grandmother is ill, and I have to go visit, then I can take a couple of extra days to come up with a solution.
I can have them tattooed over in black, no one would question them then. The goddess’s marks are always golden.
Happy with my decision, I quickly pack a bag.
When I look out the bedroom window, the day looks sunny and bright, so I pull a sundress out of my wardrobe and slide it on.
I don’t often get to wear anything but leggings and shirts, so when I do get a chance to change it up, I grab it with both hands.
I throw in my swimsuit as well, even though the water is bound to be cold, but maybe I can get a tan while I’m there.
The sun isn’t going to be around much longer with winter closing in on us.
Their place is in a seaside community near the port, and there are some nice beaches and coves.
I’ll just treat it as a mini vacation and pretend the marks aren’t even there.
I’m sure once the goddess realizes I’m not interested, she will remark someone else, or at least that’s what I desperately hope.
Glaring at the offending marks on my wrists, I dig through my extensive jewelry box.
Today, I am super thankful that my mother is a designer and loves to buy me costume jewelry despite the fact that I never really wear it.
There are all sorts of gorgeous items in my box, and I never had the heart to get rid of any of it.
I finally find the items I was thinking of—a set of jeweled cuffs that my mother gave me after one of her trips to the fae kingdom.
They make unusual jewelry, and she told me that these were wedding cuffs that fae gift to their partners after the ceremony.
I kind of scoffed at that, because who wants to have ownership cuffs, but she told me all partners wear them, and it’s considered a sign of complete devotion.
Those who are married and refuse to wear them are believed to have a relationship that will fail.
It’s a weird custom as far as I’m concerned, but they are freaking pretty.
The cuffs are made from a shiny silver metal that has elaborate designs stamped into them, as well as embedded moonstone gems. The fae who sold them to her told her the moonstone was for protection and helped ease stress and anxiety. Holy crap, do I need it to work now.
I slip them on, and they cover the marks perfectly. Nobody will ever notice they are there, and I’m certainly not going to tell anyone.
I dry my hair using a blow-dryer and leave it hanging loose, then I grab my bag, my phone, and my keycard and hurry out of my building.
I cross my fingers that my mother isn’t in our foyer as I leave.
I’m sure she will still be in bed after last night, and that’s if she even made it home.
I wouldn’t put it past her to have a wonderful affair with a dashing shifter she met at the party.
Public transport is running again and the only way out of the neutral zone for those of us who don’t have electric scooters.
I hop on the bus at the stop closest to my apartment and take a seat.
There is a smattering of humans on it, all of them looking slightly downcast after the big day of celebrations yesterday.
I send Olivia, Justin, and Violet a message, letting them know I have a family emergency, and pray I don’t get struck down for lying.
All three send back replies of sympathy and assurance, and I feel even worse. I slump down in my seat in the back of the bus and tune into a particularly loud couple of girls.