He made a low, angry sound. “She and I really are going to have words tonight.”
“As I’ve said before, she’s only doing what any concerned mother would.”
Because concern was behind her actions—concern and fear. There was something in her past that had dramatically altered the way she dealt with witches, and I was positive it was the reason for her desperation to get me out of Aiden’s life.
I might not like what she was doing or the way she was doing it, but there was a part of me that understood. And at least he had a mother who cared. The only thing mine cared about was not bringing the Marlowe name into disrepute.
Which, of course, was a totally unfair thought. Mom did care. It just wasn’t the sort of caring I wanted. Wasn't the sort of caring Belle had.
“I’m thirty,” he growled. “It’s well past time she stopped interfering.”
And she probably would, once I was out of the picture. “Will Mia be at the meeting tonight?”
“I fucking hope not. She’s not pack, and she’s certainly not family. She has no right or reason to be there.”
At least that was one small mercy, even if it didn’t solve the bigger problem. “I presume you’ll be back at the hospital tomorrow?”
“No, I’m resuming work.”
“Really?” I said, surprised. “Tala is doing a perfectly fine job—”
“Of course she is,” he cut in. “But it could be weeks before Dillon is in any shape to leave. I can’t take that much time off work.”
It was probably more a case of “won’t,” but I didn’t say that. “Then I’ll ask you my question rather than her.”
“What question is that?”
“We need to talk to the first victim’s ex, because we believe a curse might be the reason for the hone-onna’s appearance in the res.”
“When did you come to that conclusion? Tala never mentioned it.”
So I’d been right—he might have taken leave but he certainly hadn’t stepped away. Not fully.
“I’ve been talking to Ashworth and Eli.”
“Scone day at the café, was it?” he said, amusement evident.
“Yes. But they also had to deliver a subpoena. The court case against my father is in a month.”
“You won’t be going up there alone—”
“No, I won’t,” I cut in. “Monty will remain here to help you with any magical problems that might arise, but everyone else will be travelling with me.”
“And that includes me.”
“There’s nothing you can do up there, Aiden,” I said, an edge in my voice. It was frustration, more than anger. This man wanted to be a part of my life and yet refused to make me a serious part of his. “You have the reservation and your family to worry about. That’s enough.”
“You and I—”
“Are just lovers, Aiden. You don’t want or need anything more from me. You’ve cut a very distinct line in the sand between the two of us and your life in the pack, and you have no desire to change that … do you?”
He didn’t say anything. And probably never would. I sighed silently. Perhaps it wasn’t Mia who would make or break our relationship after all. Perhaps the time in Canberra would put the whole thing in perspective and force some kind of decision.
Or not.
I had no doubt he’d be perfectly happy to continue on as we were until his werewolf mate eventually came along. Trouble was, Mia’s presence had crystalized something in me, even if I’d been rather reluctant to admit or even confront it until now.
And that was the fact that I wasn’t willing to just let things roll on.
I was sick of living in fear of things that might be.
Sick of the “what-ifs” and “when.”
I loved this man with all my heart, but if he wasn’t even willing to at least admit his own feelings, what was the point in staying?
“I’ve never been anything but honest with you, Liz,” he said softly.
But you’ve never been honest with yourself, I wanted to reply. You’re well aware this thing between us stopped being a casual relationship months ago.
It had developed into something that was good and rare. Something that was worth fighting for.
But he wasn’t willing to fight. Not for me. Not for us.
Saying all that wouldn’t get me anywhere, though, and it would possibly only anger him. And despite my new awareness, I wasn’t ready yet to walk away. That time would come—and probably faster than either of us might want—but right now, I still wanted to hang on to a few last moments of joy.
“I know, and that’s not what I’m saying,” I said, the edge still there. “But this is family business—my family business—and, well, you know how that goes.”
He snorted softly, but there was something in the sound that indicated the barb had hit home once again. “Fine. I’ll ring Marian Letts—the first victim’s wife—before I head over to the compound tonight. We’ll go see her in the morning.”
“Awesome. Thank you.”
There was another long stretch of silence, and I suspected he was waiting for me to invite him to breakfast, as I usually did. And part of me wanted to. It really did. But the other part—the newly restive part—was playing hardball. He couldn’t have everything his own way; if he actually wanted me to treat this relationship casually then I certainly would.
Eventually, he sighed and said, “Around nine suit?”
“Yes, fine.”
“Sleep well.”
As if I could, knowing he was confronting his family and in the same compound as Mia. “I will. You too.”
He snorted again. “Unlikely.”
And with that, he hung up.
I shoved my phone away, then stomped downstairs and raided the fridge for an overly large slice of cake.
It was much later in the evening when I felt the slight wisp of magic. It wasn’t wild magic. It wasn’t even dark magic.
It was witch magic.
Royal witch magic.
My heart skipped several beats and then raced.
Not only was there a royal witch on the street outside, watching the café, but it was a presence I’d felt here once before. That time, like this time, he or she stank of anger.
I rose and quickly made my way back down the stairs. The café was dark, and there was no moon to filter through the windows and lift the shadows. It didn’t matter, because these days my night sight was wolf sharp.
My gaze went to the left side of the building. Magic shimmered, bright in the storm-lashed darkness of the lane between the two buildings. The thick weave of the spell’s threads not only told me it was a concealing spell, but also that the person behind it was very, very powerful.
It couldn’t be my father … could it?
With subpoenas issued, would he really be so stupid as to make an appearance here in the reservation?
While the sensible part of my soul doubted it, there was something about the construction of that spell that echoed my father’s magic.
I walked into the middle of the café and then said, as loudly as I could, “This is the second time you’ve stood out in that lane watching this place. Are you planning to come in this time and talk to me, or are you going to run again?”