23. Lodestone no more #3
She lifts her chin, not even a little remorseful for using me the way she did. “I knew more than I could tell you.” A soft huff. “And more than I would’ve if I could.”
I don’t doubt that. “Because Delilah ordered you not to.”
“Do you have any idea how annoying that was? I was dead, Penelope. Dead. And her stupid potion still controlled me.” She folds her spectral arms. “But you figured it out eventually, and now she’s burning somewhere hot, so I suppose you’re not completely useless.”
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.” She glances behind me again. “Anyway, now that she’s dead, I think I’ll stick around for a while.”
I blink. “What?”
“I’m starting to enjoy being a ghost, can you believe it? Besides, you owe me for the wormwood stunt. Keeping me away with the herb? You’ll slip up sometime, and when you do, I’ll be there. I’m a ghost, Penelope. I’ll always be there.”
That’s what she thinks.
Despite everything, I smile. Even though I forgot to put any in my pocket earlier today so she’s able to pop in on me now, I give her a great big smile.
Olivia narrows her eyes. And I get it. A witch who watched her mate get cursed and listened to him maul one of her own… I shouldn’t be smiling. But considering I might not have been involved in this up to my eyeballs like I was if it wasn’t for Olivia?
“No. You won’t.”
“What do you mean, no? Unless you try to banish me—and we both know you’re way too softhearted for that—than I’m not going anywhere.”
I nod. “Don’t you remember? What you said?
Something about a vow…” My smile widens.
“About how you’ll only cross over when I figure out who killed you?
Well, I did. Delilah killed you as one of the sacrifices for the lodestone that I just made null and void.
And since that also makes the geas you put on me null and void…
” I lift my hand, giving her a tiny finger wave, as condescending as any gesture the former heal every made at me. “Bye-bye, Olivia.”
“Don’t you fucking dare—”
She disappears. Just like that, she’s gone, and I stare at the empty spot where she’d been for a few seconds before I burst into laughter.
I probably shouldn’t be laughing. A witch is dead behind me. Another witch just crossed over. I nearly died. Riordan nearly died. As the laughter rings in my ears, I have the vague idea that I might be hysterical.
Just I have that thought, that’s when something furry and warm nudges my thigh.
I suck in a breath, killing my laughter in an instant. Turning around, I find myself looking down at Riordan.
And it is Riordan. Despite my mate staying in his fur instead of shifting back, I look at the massive wolf with its black fur and its brilliant golden eyes and I would recognize the male who owns my heart anywhere.
Blood streaks his muzzle. I can’t miss that part.
I don’t know what would happen if he shifts to his skin.
He’ll be naked—considering his shift destroyed his pants and underwear when he went from his skin to his fur, plus that night in the bakery proves he comes back without a stitch on—but will Delilah’s blood cover him?
Since he’s refusing to shift back, I’m thinking it’s lightly.
Or maybe, in his way, he wants to make sure that I truly do accept every part of him: man and beast.
I understand why he might need me to approve of his wolfish side, especially after showing me how far he’s willing to go to protect me.
We both know there was a time not that long ago when the sight of a wolf made every survival instinct I possessed scream at me to run.
There was also a time when I looked at Riordan and saw a predator before I saw the male underneath.
Now? I only see my mate.
Dropping down, I throw my arms around his neck. His massive body shudders as I bury my face in his fur.
Like always, he’s so warm. He’s soft, too, and undeniably bloody, but the most important part is that he’s alive.
I squeeze him and I kiss him by his ear, careful not to get any blood on me and failing miserably.
He chuffs and leans into my embrace, and I can sense the last of his rage seeping out of him as his mate hugs him without a single trace of fear.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m still afraid. After watching Delilah drop him to his knees, after seeing him robbed of his voice and his strength while he still tried to crawl between me and danger, I might be more afraid than I’ve ever been.
Just not of Riordan. Not really. Not like the first time I saw the big, black wolf in the kitchen of Dough You Believe in Magic and believed it was the witch killer come to get me.
Only the witch killer turned out to be a witch, and the big, bad wolf… he’s mine.
I tighten my arms around my wolf and refuse to let go.
I am afraid, and I can admit that even as my heart rate finally starts to return normal. Know why? Because the only thing about him that scares me anymore is how close I came to losing him.
He’s my mate. My forever mate.
And I’m not letting him get away from me ever again.