Chapter Fifteen
If a sculptor created a likeness of Ronan’s profile at that moment, the only possible title for the piece, the only one that made sense, would’ve been: Livid.
“I don’t need to rest, Ronan. I’m fine.”
“Fine?” His teeth clenched. I wasn’t even a wolf, and I could hear him grinding his molars from across the room. “We have differing definitions of fine. According to your partners, you were out cold for two hours, Betty.”
“Maybe I just needed the sleep?”
His brows dropped. “Not the time to be a smart ass.”
Although it was nice that he cared, I couldn’t help thinking his annoyance wasn’t totally directed at me. He hadn’t had any luck picking up Rory’s scent around town last night, and when he’d finally dragged himself home, he’d walked in on Margaux, the boys, and me crying in each other’s arms.
“It was a spell,” I said. “A strong one, granted, but this is what I do. I’m a witch. For me, this is normal.”
He did that vigorous nodding thing people did when they were trying not to scream. “You were hugging Margaux Ramirez. Tell me, exactly what is normal about that?”
He had a point. “Okay, you win.” I took his hands in mine. “I’ll rest if you do.”
“I can’t. Rory—”
“How about just long enough for me to tell you about the spell?” I smiled in what I assumed was an encouraging manner. “And eat some breakfast.”
He pressed his lips closed and breathed through his nostrils. “A half hour,” he said finally.
“An hour,” I countered.
“Forty-five minutes.” He stopped grinding his teeth, took my hand, and pulled me into the kitchen. “I’ll make omelets. You brew the coffee.”
“Deal.”
It didn’t take long to tell him about the spell, but we’d been hungrier than either of us realized and bolted down our food—one omelet for me, two for him—so, when I got to the part where Demon Betty showed up, I was staring at the mug bottom of my second mug of coffee.
“How did you get her under control?” he asked.
I wanted to laugh, but he’d have taken it wrong. “One does not get Demon Betty under control, Ronan. She does what she wants.”
“But you did it.”
“To be honest, I think it might’ve been the earth witch part of me that did it—or at least she helped.
” I frowned, shook my head to clear it. “No, that’s not right.
I’m making it sound as if my witch is separate from me.
The easiest way I can put it is I told Demon Betty I needed her to get out of the way so I could complete the spell.
” That wasn’t the whole story, but I didn’t feel like delving into the rest. I still felt sick about the screams I’d heard in that room after she left my consciousness.
“And that worked? She left?”
“It was self-preservation. She doesn’t want to die any more than I do.”
He looked doubtful but didn’t share what he was thinking and didn’t pursue the subject, for which I was grateful. Demon Betty was one of my least favorite topics of conversation—right behind pubic lice and Floyd Pallás, numbers two and one respectively.
“You said the spell was powerful, and that Margaux lost control at one point. How’d you get it back?” Ronan asked.
“It was something Margaux said about having to lean into the pain if I wanted the spell to work. She said the only way out is through.”
He set his fork on his plate and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “So, she reminded you of the purpose of the spell?”
“Yes.” I stared into my mug, wishing I had another sip of coffee so I’d have an excuse to avoid his gaze for the next part. “There was more to it than that.”
He made a rolling gesture with his hand. Go on.
“It was … you.”
“Me? What about me?”
I cleared my throat, stared into the mug some more. “She invoked your name.”
“Like a curse?”
“Seriously? We witches don’t curse people as much as you wolves seem to think we do.” I finally lifted my gaze. His brow furrowed, and he blinked a few times. He wasn’t being obtuse—the man was genuinely confused. “Oh. You were being serious.”
“It’s just that invoked sounds ominous.”
“Not in this instance.” I sighed. I was making a mess of this. “Margaux said, ‘You took this on for Ronan, to help him find his sister—now, find her. Pour everything you’ve got into it,’ so, I said to myself, it hurts and it’s hard, but for Ronan, I can do this.”
He’d been in the process of standing—had already stacked our plates and silverware to be taken to the sink and washed—when he froze. The dishes rattled in his hands.
“You said that?”
“To myself, yeah.”
In a jolting lurch, he came back to himself. He walked to the sink like a robot, set the dishes down, and returned to the seat beside me, where he stared into the middle distance for a solid thirty seconds.
I was a little confused by his reaction. I’d expected at least a sarcastic, “So what you’re saying is I’m the one who actually got control of the spell,” with a wink and a grin.
“Ronan, I—"
“I lied to you yesterday,” he said abruptly.
“Lied? About what?”
“You asked about me calling you mate. I blamed my wolf and said my human side was more civilized when it comes to you. That’s bullshit. If anything, the human side of me is even more wild about you than my wolf side.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I went with the scintillating, “Oh.”
“From the very start, I never intended to let you go. You and I are soulmates.” He reached for my hands, which was convenient, since I was reaching for his.
“I knew it for sure the night you paid off your bet by standing on my bar in that godsdamn wet dream of a dress.” He threaded his fingers through mine.
“The look on your face was priceless,” I mused.
“I helped you down and looked into your beautiful autumn eyes. Then you whispered, ‘See you around,’ and I knew it wasn’t going to be enough to just see you around.
I was going to need to see you every day for the rest of my life.
I was so fucking lost, Betty.” He ducked, rested his forehead against mine. “Irretrievably gone.”
My heart gave a joyful little stutter. “I’ve been drawn to you since I met you, and I had no idea why.
At one point, I suspected you’d had someone cast a spell on me.
” I smiled to hide how embarrassed I was to be telling him this.
“I had Fennel test me for magical influence. He didn’t find anything, of course. ”
“You suspected I spelled you? That’s wild, Betty.”
“Is it? You’re Floyd’s son, and he wanted me silent—and dead. To my mind, it made sense.” I held up my hands when he opened his mouth to argue. “But then I got to know you through our interactions, and through conversations with people like Gladys. I started to see you differently.”
“And now?”
“Now I trust you enough to lead me out of the darkness.”
“Betty.” The chair legs squeaked against the floor as he yanked my chair next to his. He wrapped one arm around my shoulders, the other he rested on my upper thigh. “You’re everything—to me, my wolf. None of what I feel for you is civilized, and it should probably scare you.”
“Huh. You’re the one who should be scared.
I love you from a place planted inside me so deep I can’t even see the roots.
” I rested my head on his shoulder then cuddled closer and buried my face in his neck.
He smelled like wolf and coffee and the outdoors.
I filled my lungs with his scent, and my body relaxed.
Had I stripped out of my clothing, I wouldn’t have felt more naked. This man held my whole heart in his hands. It scared me a little, but not much, because I was starting to believe I held his in the exact same way.
“I have to go,” he said. “I’ve got a search team reconnoitering in a half hour. Every wolf in the county not under Floyd’s thumb.”
“I know.” I kissed his cheek then peeled away from him and slid my chair back into place.
“Before you head out, I need to tell you something. There was a bit more to the spell. It’s highly metaphoric and too vague to be very helpful, but I caught a vision of a cell, its walls dripping with silver.
Outside the cell was a room with an old wooden desk.
An enormous wolf prowled around the desk, like he was guarding something. ”
“You went through a lot of pain for that information.”
“And it’s pathetically limited, I know. I’d hoped for more.”
“Still…” Ronan’s brow creased. “The part about the silver might be something. Silver on the walls makes sense if he’s holding shifters captive—it’s probably why I couldn’t feel anything from Rory when I reached out.”
“Does the room sound familiar?”
“No,” he said. “If it’s a real place, Floyd’s kept its existence a secret.”
I decided to keep the part about the screams to myself.
It would distract him, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Besides, I didn’t know that it was Rory, hadn’t been able to tell if the screams came from a woman at all.
“Someone had to have helped build it, right? Floyd is a business owner, not a contractor.”
“Good point. One of the wolves working construction might’ve helped. Maybe someone who doesn’t know what he or she knows, so to speak. I’ll ask around.”
“Wouldn’t it be faster to send a mental image of a place matching the description to the pack?”
“Yes, and it would also be tipping our hand. With this being the only clue we have, I’m more inclined to keep my inquiries discreet. Make them feel comfortable enough to stay put.”
Had it been me, I’d have sent out a county-wide email, but Ronan had his methods, and he understood the pack—and his father—better than I did.
“Another question. Why don’t you try to affect Floyd and his alphas the way you did the wolves who attacked me?
Make them feel the sorrow you felt? Or zombify them? ”