Chapter Forty Four #2
Once Etienne arrived at her house, he found her still curled up on the large pillow in her studio.
He immediately went into action, checking her vitals and treating her by decreasing her cortisol levels.
Then he typed up an email from Ophelia to her team and the board director at Healing Artists, letting them know that she was taking the rest of the day off work due to an illness.
He read it out loud to her while she was still curled up on the pillow.
She nodded in approval of the wording, and he hit send.
He then convinced Ophelia to move to her bed in the cottage for a nap.
After he watched her drink a glass of water, he gently removed her shoes and jeans and guided her under the covers.
Her brain was exhausted and still in shock, so the last thing she remembered before swiftly passing out was Etienne curling around her body and holding her in bed.
A few hours later, Ophelia’s eyes blinked into focus as she took in the afternoon sun filtering through her room. The heavy weight of Etienne’s arm wrapped around her middle provided a deep sense of comfort.
“How are you feeling?” asked Etienne, noticing her awakened state.
“Better,” she sighed and rolled into his chest. “Thank you, E. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you called.”
Etienne moved her hair out of her face, and they locked eyes.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
Ophelia nodded. “I need a tea first.”
Ophelia and Etienne sat on the couch holding their warm mugs as Ophelia combed through her findings on her laptop.
Etienne was just as floored as she had been.
The pieces were starting to click together.
At least they had a lead on who was being targeted now—magical people.
And Albert Thompson had likely attacked Ophelia because he knew she had magic, even though she had been completely unaware at the time.
“And when you looked for current information on The Pure, you found nothing?” asked Etienne.
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Could be an old member finishing what The Pure started.”
“I think that’s the most likely scenario. What do you think I should do? I should go to the cops, right?” Ophelia took a sip of her tea as Etienne contemplated her question. Etienne started and stopped several times. She could almost hear him thinking.
“I truly don’t know. If you go to the cops, you’ll need to leave Mateo’s cross out of the evidence you bring. So really, you’d be showing them your attacker’s file and the commenter on the forum and hope that they would at least investigate The Pure.”
Ophelia nodded. “But I can’t go in and say, ‘Hey, the serial killer is going after magical people.’”
“No,” said Etienne, pausing to mull over her predicament.
“There’s a chance that someone in the department is magical and could figure it out, but then would they even tell the detective on the case their theory?
It’s tricky. I’m not sure how open the police department is about magic. I’m guessing not very.”
They pored over the evidence several more times, looking for other links they could potentially provide to the cops.
When nothing new came to the surface, Ophelia said, “I need a break.” She scrubbed her face.
“This is a lot, and I think I want to talk to Jade and Avery before I tell the cops anything. But I also don’t want to wait forever.
The Cutthroat Killer is probably halfway to Alaska by now. ”
Etienne nodded. “Come on. Let’s go get dinner then.”
“I thought you had work tonight.”
“I did, but a coworker is covering for me.” Etienne stood and held his hand out to Ophelia. She took it, and the comfort she felt from his touch was a balm to her nervous system.
“E, can we go someplace casual? But it is still delicious and also has wine?”
Etienne barked a laugh. “Yeah, babe. I know just the place.”
Etienne and Ophelia placed their food orders at the counter, then sat at the bar near the oyster shucker.
“I love this place,” sighed Ophelia. It was just what she needed—an old tavern with great food, oysters, and a nice selection of drinks. The tavern was dimly lit and grungy but in a charming way.
“Same. What do you want to drink?” Etienne asked as he grabbed the lip of her bar chair and pulled her closer to him. He casually draped his arm around the back of her chair, and Ophelia couldn’t help but smile.
“Whatever red wine they have.” Ophelia leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. The smell of him when she breathed in for a kiss was so comforting, a little hit of oxytocin. “Is this our first date?”
“First?” he asked in astonishment. “I kinda thought the night I brought Pho over and made you squirt was the first.”
Just then, both of their heads snapped to the bartender, who had clearly overheard Etienne. “Can I get you two something?” asked the bartender, completely straight-faced.
“A Malbec and an old-fashioned with Maker’s,” Etienne responded. The bartender nodded and left them to make the drinks.
“Well, now our bartender knows I squirt,” Ophelia laughed.
“No, now he knows you’re mine because I make you squirt.” Etienne leaned into her and whispered in his deep voice. “I think I’ll need to make that happen again tonight. Don’t you?”
Ophelia bit her lip and nodded eagerly. She loved it when he talked like this. It drove her crazy. She was having lewd thoughts of being bent over the bar right then and there for him to take.
The server came by with their food, and the oyster shucker placed a dozen fat, Gulf-Coast oysters in front of them to share.
They devoured the oysters before their first round of drinks arrived.
Her happiness expanded when Etienne was around.
It felt like there was no limit to her joy when he was around.
The barriers that normally existed—stress, grief, guilt, fear—all fell away when she was in his orbit. She hoped he felt the same.