Chapter 42 Concoctions and Confessions
CONCOCTIONS AND CONFESSIONS
Iwake slowly, still bleary-eyed and warm, with Griffin’s arm slung around my waist, and Daire’s precariously close to my breasts.
My heart is calm. My breathing even.
I can’t remember the last time I slept straight through the night. The last time I woke without panic clawing at my throat.
This should terrify me—two men in my bed, their bodies bracketing mine, the vulnerability of sleep making me defenseless.
It doesn’t.
Instead, I feel… safe.
The realization is more startling than waking up between them.
I study Daire’s face in the morning light.
His mouth is relaxed in sleep, lips slightly parted—lips that I’ve imagined kissing countless times in the last six weeks.
My gaze lowers to the slight divot in the middle of his chin, the shadow of dark scruff I want to run my fingers across. The sharp line of his jaw.
I wonder what he’d do if I kissed him right now. If I woke him with my mouth on his, hands in his hair, the way I’ve imagined in the security of my own room when I can’t sleep.
The thought is too much to process before coffee.
I hold my breath as I ease free of Daire’s arm and slip out of bed. He makes a low sound of protest in his sleep but doesn’t wake. Neither does Griffin, though his arm tightens briefly on the empty space where I was.
I grab a dress from my bag, slip out of the room, and pad downstairs.
The kitchen is empty, the pots and pans gleaming in the first rays of sun streaming through the white-paned windows.
Outside, birds sing, and the trees gently sway in a breeze that feels like it’s calling to me.
I nearly abandon the inclination to get dressed and head outside, but one look at the silk pajamas has me moving toward the living room in search of the washroom.
I freeze mid-step.
Lochlan and Holden are sprawled on the couches, sitting across from each another. They’re both shirtless, wearing nothing more than a pair of basketball shorts, as if they just finished working out.
My brain short-circuits.
“Morning,” Holden says, his voice stern, but not cold.
I nod, feeling far more exposed in the sunlight than I did last night. I raise the dress, still bundled in my fist. “I was looking for the washroom.”
“Why are you so nervous, Witchling?” Lochlan’s brow is a hard line.
I swallow, but mentally I’m scoffing because the list is endless.
“I need your words unless you’re inviting me to mindwalk.” Lochlan lifts the coffee cup cradled in his large hands, taking a sip.
“I thought you didn’t trust that my thoughts weren’t manipulated or altered?” It isn’t combative, purely curious.
“Does that mean I can?” he counters.
“I assume you guys do all the time, and that’s why you’re constantly telling me to shield.”
Lochlan stares at me as he takes another pull from his coffee. “We haven’t for weeks. When we mindwalk during lessons, it’s only to those places you take us, never to look at your current thoughts, which is why we had no idea you were so exhausted.”
“Then how do you know I’m not shielding?”
“Think of your thoughts being this coffee,” Lochlan says, lifting his mug. “When you’re not shielding, we can sense it like you can smell coffee, but we don’t actually go into your thoughts and take a drink.”
I’m fascinated by his analogy. “Do everyone’s thoughts feel different?”
He nods and shrugs at the same time, which only makes me more curious.
“If I dropped my shields in a crowd, would you be able to tell my thoughts from everyone else’s?” I ask.
“Yes,” Holden answers instantly. “You do it every day in Runes while reading. You get distracted and—” He snaps his fingers.
I feel the hint of disappointment but not surprise. It’s hard to maintain my shields, harder when around a member of the Vestra, and that hour is spent with him and Kai.
“Speaking of which, I need to reach out to Ginger and make sure she’s taking over my classes on Monday. I’ll be right back.” The scent of sandalwood and coffee hang in the air as he passes me, heading for the kitchen.
“You’re very difficult to read,” Lochlan says.
“You’re one to talk.”
I swear he grins, though his lips barely move.
I shake my head, knowing this is probably stupid and dangerous, but trust might be all I have to barter. “Fine. Dive in, but once you’re satisfied and realize I haven’t plotted anyone’s demise or a trap, I have a request waiting for you.”
Intrigue flashes in his eyes as he leans forward. “Careful with carte blanche offerings. Someone might think you’re allowing them to stay or dig around through all your memories.”
“You’d get bored in my thoughts.”
“We’re about to find out.”
The brush of his awareness in my head has my pulse racing.
He brushes through my current thoughts, not diving into my memories before another gentle brush tells me he’s done.
The crease in his brow is the only response he gives. My heart beats unevenly, confused by his reaction or lack thereof. He sets his coffee down and reaches for his crystal link. “A mating bond only breaks if the Keystone dies.”
“Does that mean you don’t have a book on bonds that I can borrow?”
“It shatters the other Bondmate’s souls,” he continues.
I don’t realize I’ve moved into the living room until I’m sinking into the opposite end of the couch, the weight of his words impossibly heavy. “Does that mean Kai’s dad….”
Lochlan’s eyes meet mine. “He passed away. Yes.”
My heart aches, wondering how much—how hard that shaped him.
“What if a person in a bond leaves?”
His silver gaze shifts between mine, something dark and knowing in his expression. “The distance will make them all go insane.”
I’m suddenly beyond grateful for my prudence. “Have you been able to find out if bonds can be forged?”
“Are you wanting to trade information?”
“I haven’t learned very much. Most of what I’ve been reading deals with prophecies.”
He nods.
We’re both quiet for several minutes.
“I’ll send you a few books that I have on my crystal link, but most of them are in my private library at Mysthaven.”
Another private library. I wonder how many exist in Mysthaven’s walls. I slowly start to sit up, but Holden returns, passing me a cup of coffee rather than setting it in front of me like he does in first period every morning.
I’m careful to prevent our skin from touching as I accept it, breathing in the rich aroma that’s fixed the way I prefer it. It took me four days to trust him enough to drink it during training.
“After meeting with Lyra, we’ll start working on runes,” Lochlan says. “And charms. Alchemy holds a crucial role, but runes and charms are things you’ll need daily, especially depending on what happens with your elements.”
“Will I?” I ask. “I mean, I’ve lived without them for twenty-two years.”
“If someone hasn’t been given a voice, does that mean they shouldn’t have a say?” Holden asks, sipping his coffee.
“I didn’t mean it ignorantly. I want to learn, but I just can’t imagine needing to use a charm or rune daily. You don’t think you could go the weekend without using your elements or any magic?”
“No,” they say simultaneously. Automatically.
“Aren’t there dimensions where you can’t use your elements?”
“We spend as little time as possible in those locations,” Lochlan confirms.
“Can you use them on Earth with the same ease you can here?” My curiosity is officially piqued.
Lochlan shakes his head. “Charms don’t work, and it takes our elements longer to recharge.”
Recharging can occur in a myriad of ways, as Griffin explained after I burned the library, and confirmed with texts, ranging from being around one’s element, starlight, sex, and rest, but Vestras are unique in being able to replenish each other. Bonds even more so.
“Speaking of elements,” Holden says, resuming his spot on the couch across from Lochlan. “Do you know a rough estimate of how many times you’ve used your elements?”
I pull my head back. “A dozen times. Probably less. Most of them on the day I was brought here.” I clutch my coffee cup with both hands, letting the warmth radiate through my palms.
“That’s all?” Lochlan doesn’t even try to hide his shock. “Have you noticed a pattern? Any causation?”
Heat blooms behind my eyes as I lower my gaze to my coffee. “Panic usually. Sometimes pain.”
“Likely self-preservation,” Holden says. “Perhaps Scarlet’s right. Maybe one of your parents was human.”
Lochlan shakes his head. “I don’t think she’d have three elements if that were the case.”
Holden shrugs. “Scarlet has proven to be a pretty damn strong Water Elemental.”
Griffin steps into the living room, looking like he just rolled out of a sex dream—my sex dream—mussed dark blond hair, bare torso, soft eyes, and his imprint.
My pulse stutters.
He smiles, slow and unguarded, and crosses the room, sitting beside me.
“Morning,” he says, voice rough with sleep.
Before I can answer, he pulls me into his lap with easy confidence, like it’s natural. Like I belong in his arms. My pulse is racing.
“How’d you sleep?” he asks.
I nod, unsure how to form words, the moment too new, too fragile, too damn comfortable. I wonder if this is how a bond feels? If I had always lived here, would I have found them naturally? Known them my whole life, and fit as seamlessly into their lives as they do with each other?
Something tight stirs in my chest, an ache threaded with longing that assures me I’m going to miss this.
“Come on. Portelina’s even better in the morning.” Griffin stands with me still in his arms.
A surprised squeak is all I can manage as he cradles me close to his chest. My dress is abandoned, so I can grip my coffee and not burn either of us.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs at the same time that I feel his air magic around the mug, balancing it.
Holden watches, but doesn’t say anything, neither does Lochlan.
Griffin carries me through the kitchen, outside. The morning is warm and dry, wrapping around us. He doesn’t stop until we reach a lounge chair near the pool.