15. Do you trust me #2
Once he realizes that I’m stepping away from the discussion, we start walking again, following one of Garnet’s map deeper into the woods.
For the next hour, we discuss certain landmarks, check out a suspicious-looking stump, and conveniently don’t mention the conversation we just had.
I’m still rerunning it through my head, obsessing as usual, but when I need some of my attention on picking up rocks and seeing if they’re secretly hoarding a treasure trove of magic, I force myself to focus on that.
Riordan seems calmer once I drop the subject, and happier that we’re back to discussing the lodestone.
And maybe he’s also obsessing about the artifact and what it could mean when we find it because, out of nowhere, he says, “Do you think, if you find the lodestone, you’ll have a target on your back the same way as you do because of the compact? ”
I’m crouching in the dirt, running my fingers over the grass, searching for some hint of magic. When I hear his question, I look up at him.
“I don’t think that the compact is an issue anymore—”
“Olivia faked her own death and tried to pin her murder on you because of the compact,” Riordan points out, cutting me off.
“That was before she was actually murdered.”
“Exactly. Now she’s dead, which means whatever brought her back to Moonburrow could have something to do with it.
” That’s something we discussed once, then set aside when, on one of Olivia’s early appearances, she scoffed and said she gave up on Morrigaine’s mirror.
“Or maybe one of the other witches is just biding their time, waiting until there’s not a wolf targeting witches before they come after you for the compact. ”
I really hope not.
Scooping my hair up, settling it over my shoulder, I meet the suddenly worried look on Riordan’s face. “I told Delilah that I sent the compact off to Salem. If they want it, they’ll have to ask Serena for it.”
He frowns. “But that’s a lie. I can scent deception… you lied to them?”
I shrug. “Yeah. I don’t make a habit of it, but after getting arrested…” My voice trails off, and I’m quick to move on. “Anyway, I didn’t want anyone else trying to take it so I told a tiny fib. Like I said, I don’t think the compact is an issue right now.”
At least, it shouldn’t be.
And then Riordan asks, “Where is it?”
Goddess damn it. I just told Riordan that I don’t make a habit of lying if I can help it, so if I lie now… “To be honest, I… I’m not sure.”
“What?”
“I put it somewhere safe,” I tell him, trying not to sound too defensive and failing miserably.
“And where’s that?”
“If I knew that, it wouldn’t be lost.”
“So you lost it.”
“Misplaced.”
“Pen.”
“What? It’s a charmed mirror! It has a tendency to disappear! And if I don’t know where it is, odds are no other witch in Moonburrow will try to look for it, either.”
At least, that’s the logic I tell myself when I get annoyed that I did, well, lose it.
When Roxy first handed it to me, I instantly knew what it was.
Morrigaine’s mirror, the enchanted artifact that holds enormous power and vanishes if you’re not careful.
The last I heard of it, a witch had possession of it when I was nineteen, maybe twenty.
A decade later, Roxy found it at the bottom of the dumpster in a town that was built upon the most famous witch settlement in the United States…
I always wanted it. Legend says that just peering into the glass gives a witch immeasurable power. It’s supposed to amplify a witch’s abilities, and any witch casting through it should always have her spells work perfectly.
“I can sense it somewhere nearby,” I tell him. “At least, I think I can. But for all I know, it isn’t even a compact anymore.”
“It changes shape?”
“It’s Morrigaine’s mirror. It does what it wants.”
Riordan smirks. “Sounds like a certain witch I know.”
Another week goes by. I’m careful not to mention his curse, he’s careful not to bring up his mate, and though we’ve made it through seventy of Garnet’s seventy-five possible locations for the lodestones and found nothing, I’m currently thinking about both Riordan’s curse and his mate as we trudge back to his cruiser after another afternoon spent together in the forest.
No wonder he can’t convince his mate to choose him.
Lately, we’ve been spending more time alone out in the woods, as though he seems to think that finding the lodestone will somehow drop the identity of Olivia’s killer into his lap.
We’ve spent a couple of hours in the library the entire past week, and, checking the time on my phone as I approach the passenger side of the car alongside Riordan, I see it’s already too late to stop by and get some shelving done today.
I’m wondering if we can put a hold on searching for the last five landmarks tomorrow because I’m feeling guilty for abandoning Ash when, out of nowhere, Riordan breaks the companionable silence with four words:
“Do you trust me?”
I pause, phone in my hand. Thinking it over, I slip it into the pocket of my skirt. Then, before I answer Riordan, I look over at him.
We’ve made it back to the cruiser, but instead of opening my door for me, he’s turned so that he’s standing right in front of me with an expression so serious that my stomach goes queasy.
Do I trust him?
I have no idea why he’s asking me that—especially not now when nothing we’ve done today should indicate that I don’t—but it takes all of a few seconds for me to accept that the answer is: “Of course I do.”
I don’t know who’s more stunned at how easily I can tell him that: Riordan or me. Probably Riordan. For a split second, he looks shocked, and I shrug my shoulders because, well, I do trust him.
He nods slowly. “Good. That’s good, Pen. Because I’d like to try something, if that’s okay with you. I just need you to let me and know I’m doing this for a good reason.”
Talk about deja vu. We’ve had this same thing happen before, only I was the one who wanted him to trust me. Funnily enough, he did. He had no reason to—we barely knew each other then—but he trusted me to let him look at his curse.
Whatever he wants to try, I trust him now.
“Okay.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking… it all goes back to that day in the jail cell. I can’t get over how I used my curse against you—”
“It’s okay,” I cut in. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. I know you won’t do it again.”
After all, he hasn’t since…
Riordan gives me a grateful look. “Thanks, Pen, but, honestly, you can’t know that. I’ve spent fifteen years being careful, and I still slipped with you.” His gaze locks on mine. “So I want to make sure I can’t. This time, I’m going to use my curse against itself.”
My witch brain doesn’t always work the way I want it to, but I think I understand what he’s getting at. “You’re going to order me not to listen to you if you accidentally order me to do something?”
The relief in his golden eyes is a beautiful thing. “Yes,” he breathes out. “That’s it exactly.”
“Then go on. Do it.” When he hesitates, I add, “I told you I trust you.”
Those, it seems, are the magic words.
Riordan sets his shoulders. Then, in his rich, deep voice, he says, “Penelope, you will never obey a magically compelled order unless you freely choose to obey it. Not from me. Not from anyone. Ever.”
The magic hits me. My breath catches as green power wraps around me, sinking beneath my skin before vanishing.
Riordan looks pale beneath his tan. He’s breathing a little heavily, though I can’t tell if it’s because the curse took a lot out of him or if he’s worried that he messed something up. “Did it work?”
“I don’t know. I think we need to test it.
His throat works before he says, “Give me your hand.”
Power snaps through the words. My arm twitches, like it’s going to rise on its own accord, but then it stops. It just stops.
And I giggle. “It works. You did it! You figured out a workaround without having to rely on your mate!”
I shouldn’t be as happy as I am that this might give the Beta a reason not to chase after the woman who doesn’t see what an awesome male he is. Beaming up at him, I tell him, “You’re amazing!”
Riordan goes predatorily still.
I laugh again, partly because I’m more relieved than I want to admit, and partly because the expression on his face to hear me call him amazing is priceless.
He looks so taken aback—but it only lasts a few seconds before it changes. His eyes flash, and his jaw tightens. His gaze roves all over my face, drinking me in, before it drops to my mouth.
I’ve never seen a male look at me like that before. I remember thinking, once, that I wanted what Roxy and Ash had. He looks at her as if she hangs the moon in the sky just for him, and he’s the lucky bastard that gets to lay her down beneath it. He’s intoxicated by his mate.
And that’s exactly how Riordan is looking at me the instant before he lowers his mouth to mine.
He’s careful. He moves slowly, giving me more than enough time to duck out of his reach if this isn’t what I want. But on the high of seeing him so happy to defeat his curse for only the moment… I’m sorry, but this is exactly what I want.
For once, I don’t overthink what I should do, why I shouldn’t, or all of the other reasons why this is a bad, bad idea. Instead, I rise up on my tiptoes, parting my lips in time for his to touch mine.
And when Riordan kisses me, I don’t just let him. I’m a willing participant until my brain comes back online and I realize that I’m kissing a male who is obviously hoping his fated mate will one day choose him—and that mate is not me.