Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TORIN
If anyone had told me a month ago that I’d wake up with a witch drooling on my chest and a squirrel staring at me like he was judging my life choices, I’d have called them daft.
Yet here we were.
Monday morning. Liora was sprawled half on top of me, hair everywhere, hand fisted in my T-shirt like she’d tried to wrestle me in her sleep and lost. Her cheek was pressed over my heart, lips parted, and she was making the cutest little snoring sound.
Bracken sat in a nest of towels on the nightstand, tiny paws tucked under his chest, while Liora snored quietly. He’d joined us later in the evening, and we’d put together a small nest for him to cozy into for the night.
Liora made a sleepy sound and burrowed closer, one bare thigh sliding over my hip. Every cell in my body woke up with her.
Right. Probably best not to think too hard about last night or I’d end up keeping her in bed all day and we’d both be useless.
I smoothed my hand down her back, thumb brushing over the dip of her spine. She shivered and blinked up at me, eyes hazy. For a second, she just stared, like she was trying to remember who I was.
Then she smiled.
My heart seemed to shiver in my chest and I swallowed thickly. Oh, I was done for.
“Hi,” she rasped.
“Morning, wood nymph.”
She groaned and buried her face in my chest. “We’ve talked about this. We’re not keeping that nickname.”
“Aye, we are.” I kissed the top of her head. “How’s your body?”
“That’s a very forward question,” she mumbled.
Heat crawled up my neck. “I meant—och, you know what I meant. Are you sore? Too much?”
She shifted experimentally, winced a little, then grinned. “In a good way. Like I did a very enthusiastic yoga class. With … added benefits.”
My chest did something suspiciously like swelling.
Truth spell or not, there was no way I could hide what came out next. “I like you in my bed.”
Her head popped up, eyes wide. Then she laughed. “I like me in your bed, too.”
Bracken chittered loudly and jumped to the floor, scampering out of the room as if he’d seen far more than he wanted.
“Your familiar doesn’t approve,” I said dryly.
“He can lodge a formal complaint later,” she said. “I’m busy.”
She kissed me—soft and sweet, and if we weren’t careful we were going to be late for … well, for life.
“I’ve got work.” Reluctantly, I pulled back.
She sighed dramatically. “Responsibilities. How rude.”
Real life. Except none of this felt like the life I’d had before. Everything had color now. Liora had done that. Bringing laughter and crystals and flowers and, well, joy into my house.
I cleared my throat, I really needed to calm down. It had been just over a week since she’d arrived. “Come on then. I’ll make breakfast.”
“You’re very bossy,” she muttered, rolling out of bed and nearly tripping on my socks.
I watched her pad toward the bathroom, hair wild, my T-shirt riding up on the smooth curve of her generous bum.
Steadfast Taurus, my arse. I was a goner.
The week slid into a rhythm so smoothly it scared me.
Mornings, she’d pad around the kitchen half asleep while I made tea and eggs, Bracken perched on a cabinet like quality control. Liora would ramble about her dreams, or things she’d read about in her gran’s book, or some podcast she’d half-listened to about emotional wounds and inner children.
I could listen to her talk about anything. Her voice was soothing and melodic, and the noise of her filled the empty spaces in my heart.
Evenings, she’d curl up on the couch with her laptop and notes, asking my opinion on things I knew nothing about … like if the Kelpies were made of water, would they freeze in winter and go dormant?
I still worried, desperately, about the Kelpies, but I wasn’t sure who I could talk to about my concerns.
Maybe I could catch Graham on a slower day and have a quiet chat, because Liora had told me that he knew what was going on in Loren Brae.
I supposed most people did, even if it wasn’t a very public topic of conversation.
I’d just come to realize that my conversation skills, in general, had grown rusty. I’d been spending too much time with my trees, and not with my community. Something that Liora seemed hell-bent on changing.
“Do you think we should have a party?” she asked one night, chewing on the end of a pen while she scribbled in a notebook.
I almost choked.
“A party … for what?”
“I don’t know. Just to, you know, hang out with people?”
I looked at her, askance, and she burst out laughing when she glanced up at me.
“Right, I’ll need to ease you into that idea.”
Little did she know that I’d give her anything she wanted, she only had to ask.
We had small moments like that all week, and each one lodged under my skin.
Wednesday morning, I came inside, logs in my arms to stack by the fire, and found her at the kitchen table, frowning at her laptop. Her hair was in a messy bun and she tapped a pen against her teeth.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, setting the basket down.
She chewed on her thumbnail. “Greta just emailed. She got her first order. From someone she doesn’t even know. I’m so proud I could pop.”
“So what’s the problem?”
She stared at the screen. “Now I’m terrified I saw the wrong path. What if it all goes wrong? What if her business fails and her kids resent me and she ends up destitute and it’s all my fault?”
I walked over, gently tipped her chin up. “Liora. You saw possibility, not a guarantee. You nudged her toward what she already wanted. The rest is up to her. That’s how this works.”
“Is it?” she whispered. “What if I’ve taken on too much?”
I thought about how earnest she was, how she rooted for everyone to win, always. The way she’d talked about destiny like something that could be mended.
“You’re not in charge of everything,” I said. “Just your part. And your part, as far as I can tell, is giving people courage. They decide what to do with it.”
She breathed out slowly, shoulders relaxing. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”
“At what?”
“These talks,” she said. “The way you reframe things. It helps.”
I shrugged, embarrassed. “Just telling you what I see.”
“Do you think Greta’s business will work?” she asked, worry clouding her gorgeous face again.
“You already know it will,” I said, confident that her magick was strong.
Hell, it was strong enough to force me into a truth spell.
Which, admittedly, was still decidedly annoying when working with customers, but I also was getting used to navigating it.
At the end of the day, the spell hadn’t been horribly disruptive to my life. “You saw it.”
“Aye, but it does help to hear you say it,” she admitted. “It makes me feel less like I’m playing cosmic Jenga with people’s lives.”
“You’re not,” I said firmly. “You’re just helping them see what’s already there.”
She smiled shyly at that, and I realized just how much I wanted to make her feel good—all the time, not just in bed. It was like watching a flower bloom slowly, and I wanted to gently water her, so she could show the world her beauty.
On Thursday, I took her into the forest with me.
It had been my idea. I wanted to share my world with her so she could get a sense of what my everyday life was like. The solitude. Inviting her into that felt like handing her the key to the last locked room in my house. I’d never really done that with a partner before.
“Will there be mud?” she asked that morning, standing in the hallway in jeans and a chunky jumper, hair braided back from her face. Bracken was perched on her shoulder like a tiny, judgmental parrot.
“Aye.”
“Will there be bugs?”
“Might be. But also it’s heading into winter, so far less of them, I’m sure.” I bit back a smile.
“Will there be murdering?” She eyed the chainsaw in my hand.
“None on the agenda today,” I said. “Just clearing up fallen trees on a path, darling.”
“Good. I don’t think I’d feel good about you taking down a healthy tree,” Liora said.
“I try not to. But those we take for cabinetry or firewood, we’re constantly replanting. I suppose I do things a little differently than some. I keep my land as a thriving ecosystem, and it’s a give and take, really.”
She pursed her lips, taking in my words, then nodded. “Then I approve.”
“Good to know I’ve got your permission,” I muttered, but my mouth twitched.
We hiked up the slope behind the house, the air was sharp and clean outside, the sunlight faded and soft as it crept toward winter.
Frost clung to the edges of leaves and the ground was firm under our boots.
Bracken hopped from her shoulder to mine and back again, chittering like he was running field commentary.
“Is he narrating our walk?” I asked, amused, but also enjoying having the wee man come along with us.
He chattered energetically.
“He says you walk heavy but have a nice aura,” she translated.
“I walk heavy? Is he calling me fat?” I gasped and pretended to be offended.
“Och, please, like you have an ounce of fat on you.” I glanced over to see Liora’s cheeks pinken.
“Do you like thinking about my body, Liora?” I asked, knowing she got flustered when I was explicit with her.
“Me? I hardly think of it.” Liora put her nose in the air.
“Oh really? Not at all? Not even when I lift you over my shoulder and throw you down on the bed.”
Liora tripped on a root, and I caught her arm and laughed as she waved a hand in front of her face. “Damn it, Torin.”
“I’d say that I’m sorry, but I can’t, since I can’t lie. I love how much you enjoy my body.”
Liora whirled on me, her lips rounding in an O.
“You can’t say … I mean I do … but—”
“But what? It’s true, isn’t it? You seem to love touching me … everywhere.” I looked down, pointedly, at where her hands were absentmindedly stroking my abs.
“Oh my God.” Liora whirled and stomped up the path. I took a moment to admire the view, and then followed, wisely keeping my laughter inside.