Page 75 of Fallen Court

A knot coiled in my stomach as his clothing rustled, and my hands fisted the sheets as the mattress dipped and he slid in next to me. But he didn’t reach for me.

“I’m sorry it’s so late. There was a murder,” he murmured, and I blinked in surprise.

“Murder?” It wasn’t what I’d expected when he’d told us that he was taking care of something. “Why not leave it to the police?”

“It was a witch,” he said in a tight voice. “Execution style. I needed to contain the scene before the news leaked.”

Because the city was split in two—humans on one side and magic on the other—and Lach shouldered the burden of both halves.

“Could Oberon have something…” I trailed away, embarrassed by my paranoia. The Hallow Court prince couldn’t step foot inside the city, but I couldn’t shake the fear that he would find a way.

“It’s doubtful,” he said after a moment.

“But not impossible,” I pointed out. I nearly turned toward him but stopped myself.

“I don’t think he has anything to do with this,” Lach said. Because Lach had plenty of enemies within New Orleans—bona fides spell or no. “This felt more…personal.”

I didn’t ask why. I wasn’t certain I wanted to know the answer.

“Do I dare ask how the meeting with the covens went earlier today?”

Surely, better than finding a dead witch.

“About how I expected,” he said, his voice fading as he remembered. “They fought over the bona fides spell.”

Anxiety fisted my heart. “They aren’t going to undo it?”

“No, but they’re going to make me pay for it,” he said grimly. “The magical outage scared them. It was unexpected. Most of them are drawing off new and more powerful magic than they’re accustomed to using.”

“That sounds like a good problem.”

“Not for us.” He shifted closer in the bed but still didn’t touch me. “They were dependent on us for access to magic before. Now their loyalty…”

…was in question.

I couldn’t accept that. “But they took the oath.”

“An oath is only words, even when it’s magically binding. True allegiance can only be given. Not demanded. Look at MacAlister. If Oberon has someone in the city…”

He fell silent, and it hit me. He was…sharing. Not an excuse to explain his absence. He hadn’t apologized for not being here when he was needed elsewhere, and he didn’t have to. He was just telling me about his day.

Any lingering anger I felt ebbed away as I saw it for what it was: an attempt at normalcy in the midst of absolute freaking absurdity.

It would take some time to get used to the man I loved telling me about witches and spells and magical politics, but he was telling me.

Rawness crept up my throat, and I swallowed. There was only one way this was going to work: if we started sharing instead of shutting each other out. “I told Ciara about the mating bond. I wanted to talk about it with someone.”

He was quiet long enough that I questioned my confession.

“Is she planning our wedding yet?” he asked after a minute. There was no trace of anger in his voice, no resignation. Just a touch of bemusement.

“I’m sure I’ll be trying on dresses soon enough.” The knot inside me loosened a little, and I found myself wanting to share more. “Tomorrow I’m going to find the witch Romy mentioned this morning. Her sister. I want to see if she can help me with my ring… I won’t tell her more than necessary.”

Lach drew a deep breath, and a moment later, his hand settled on my hip. I nudged a little closer, still keeping our bodies apart. “I shouldn’t have asked you to keep it a secret. If you need to tell—”

“No.” Despite my annoyance with him earlier, I couldn’t argue with his logic. “It’s not worth the risk. Oberon already wants the ring. If he found out…”

The hand on my hip gripped it, the weight grounding me—a reminder that he was here. I shimmied my body the final bit of distance between us, and Lach’s arms surrounded me. His cedar-and-spice scent hit me, and some invisible force called to me from a place that felt as deep as my soul. It was everything I could do to not turn and kiss him.