by Nicole Hall
The usual human theatrics. Introducing the prospect of another woman. Highlighting the fruitless magic attempts without him. Giving the two of you plenty of space to—
Lindsey held up a hand. “I get it. Please stop trying to manipulate me into a relationship.”
It seems you’ve overcome that particular hurdle. How do you know your magic is still caged?
She ran a hand through her hair. “I tried to use it. Same results as all the other times.”
Not all.
“Yes. Can’t forget about those few unpredictable times the magic actually worked.”
All that means is your bond with Dax isn’t complete.
Lindsey shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts as she tried to find the right words for her next question. “Are you sure—"
She snapped her mouth shut as Dax sauntered into the room. He’d found time to get dressed, and Lindsey’s mind helpfully filled in the details of what exactly he looked like under the jeans and tee-shirt. At least his entrance had stopped her from asking the needy question circling her thoughts. Calliope couldn’t know for sure if Dax was fated for her.
Either Lindsey believed, or she didn’t—wanted him or didn’t. She’d fought to make sure any mystical role assigned to him wouldn’t cloud her decision to get involved. The lack of magic was a hit to her confidence, but it didn’t change the way she felt about him. And his friendship with Ana shouldn’t either.
Dax held up the phone he still carried. “Ana wants to bring over pizza tonight. What do you say? Up for meeting her while conscious?”
Before answering, she turned her back on the cat to slide her arms around his waist. Dax immediately pulled her against him, flattening the forgotten phone against her back. She claimed his mouth in a possessive, hungry kiss until they both struggled for breath.
He leaned back an inch and raised a brow. “Or we could tell her we’re busy.”
Lindsey swallowed the sarcastic response on the tip of her tongue and tried something new. Trust. “I like pizza, but I want to go check out that ravine again first. How about we call her when we get back?”
The ravine didn’t provide any new clues, except reinforcing the nagging sensation that Lindsey had forgotten something. Dax pointed out the ledge she’d landed on and the trail leading to it, but she didn’t feel any telltale magic tingles to indicate her attacker had tried to venture down and finish the job.
Lindsey stood at the edge of the ravine for a long time, staring at the creek. The magic felt the same as before, but something about the visual was wrong. She tried to bring up the memory from just before the fall, but her mind was stubbornly hazy. Eventually, Dax pulled her away from the edge and teased away her frown with more suggestions for what he should call her instead of girlfriend.
Ana brought Lindsey’s favorite pizza, courtesy of Dax’s big mouth, and Lindsey’s hackles slowly dropped over the course of the evening. She remembered Ana’s desperate hands from the bookshop, and the quiet woman with the sly sense of humor managed to deflect any inquiries into her past.
She exhibited the kind of skilled maneuvering that usually made Lindsey suspicious, but since this wasn’t a case, she let Ana keep her secrets. Besides, it was more interesting to hear tales of Dax’s attempts to avoid Kora’s husband. Since Ana worked at the bookshop, she had prime seats for the drama.
Calliope did her disappearing act after the obligatory hellos, and Ana stayed until Lindsey couldn’t contain her yawns. Since Dax had woken her up every hour the night before, she hadn’t gotten much sleep. As they said their goodbyes, it dawned on Lindsey that Ana didn’t seem at all suspicious about her lack of injuries. She tucked the knowledge away to be examined at a later time. Maybe Dax would have an explanation.
Or maybe they missed something in the forest.
The next afternoon, they didn’t find anything in the woods, despite Lindsey insisting they spread out from the original trail. No more magic tingles, just an ordinary pine forest loaded with wildlife.
Calliope’s protection only covered the house, but Lindsey didn’t sense any threats. Her stomach tightened every time she stepped outside of the bubble, but as the weeks passed without incident, the reaction lessened until she stopped noticing it.
Life slowed to a crawl, but a pleasurable one that involved spending all her waking—and sleeping—time with a man she liked more and more.
Dax started splitting his day between the project for Alex, magic practice with Calliope, and physical training with Lindsey. He was always willing to finish up a training session with a walk in the woods, but none of the paths they tried to the ravine offered any new information. As the days passed, the two of them spent more time being physical and less time training.
His presence during Calliope’s class meant that every once in a while, Lindsey could feel a prickling surge of magic—as if her hand had fallen asleep—which became flames along her fingertips. Each time, she failed to turn off the power. In the end, Dax would distract her with kisses until the flames vanished. Their mysterious watcher hadn’t reappeared—not that any of them had noticed—and the lack of progress made Lindsey irritable. More than usual.
Kora insisted on making coffee dates with Lindsey, and after pizza night, Ana often joined her. Dax didn’t like the idea of Lindsey going into town alone, but as she pointed out several times, he wasn’t her keeper. For the first time in her life, Lindsey found herself on the receiving end of aggressive friendship, and she wanted to reciprocate.
Several weeks after the incident with the book thief—which Lindsey had mostly forgotten in the whirlwind of near-death and amazing sex that followed—Kora mentioned that the girl hadn’t come to the shop that week.
They were sitting at their usual table in Reggie’s as Kora tapped her foot against the table in a staccato rhythm that was slowly driving Lindsey insane. The last few nights she’d gotten shit sleep due to a recurring dream that involved a golden mirror caked in mud, but Kora didn’t deserve her ire. Lindsey grabbed Kora’s knee to stop the movement, and the other woman grinned.
“Does Dax know you’re copping a feel?”
Lindsey immediately let go. “I know you’re hyped up on sugar right now, but I need you to stop vibrating the table.”
“Sorry.” She moved her foot to the crossbar of her chair and picked up the wiggle again. “Like I was saying, I haven’t seen Sophie in more than a week, which is weird because she’s always so punctual.”
“Maybe she developed an interest in something other than books.”
Kora shrugged. “Maybe, but I kind of miss her. She always had something to say when I asked her which book was her favorite.”
Lindsey smirked. “Have you considered that maybe you need to develop an interest other than books?”
“No, that’s crazy talk. Books are mankind’s greatest achievement. The guy who invented sliced bread can go suck an egg, and Mars is overrated.” Kora’s sweet smile didn’t hide the fanatical devotion she had to her chosen hoard.
“If you’re worried, I can go check on Sophie. It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out where she lives.”
Kora waved the suggestion away. “I know where she lives, but I don’t want to intrude. She doesn’t even have any books right now, so I don’t have a good reason to go stalking her.”
Lindsey nodded solemnly. “Yeah, stalking a minor is usually frowned upon.” She dodged a wadded-up napkin that Kora tossed and shifted her cup out of the danger zone. “Where’s Ana today?”
“David asked her to take the lunch shift since he had an emergency come up.” Kora leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I wasn’t involved, but I think he’s planning something romantic. Ana said he smelled like roses.”
Lindsey took a gulp of her latte to keep her pessimistic thoughts to herself. In her experience, secret emergencies involving roses generally didn’t involve the wife. She stared out the front window, and an older woman walking by turned and met her eyes as if she’d simply been waiting for Lindsey to look
that direction.
“Maybe during the Fourth Fest,” Kora muttered.
Lindsey broke the strange eye contact and grasped at a chance to change the subject before she lost her ability to maintain a neutral face. “I can’t believe the town actually calls it that.”
“They’re really fond of alliteration. From what I hear, it used to be the Fourth of July Independence Extravaganza. Then like a decade ago, there was all this drama between the committee chair and the financial director about how the name was costing too much money to advertise. They ended up changing it to the Fourth Fest, written with the numeral, never spelled out. You’re coming, right?”
This was the third time Kora had asked, but Lindsey had managed to deflect all the others. She wasn’t necessarily anti-social—she’d just never enjoyed small town festivals. They mostly seemed like excuses to make poor fried-food decisions.
But unlike the casual invitations to small-town functions she’d received over the years, this time, she had Kora and Ana to contend with. Ana had gracefully accepted the refusal; Kora became more determined every time Lindsey made an excuse.
Of course, she couldn’t very well tell Kora that she didn’t want to spend an extended amount of time among people on the off chance her magic decided to show up in grand and inconvenient fashion. Spending an hour at the coffee shop here and there was a calculated risk, but a whole afternoon of dealing with the frustration of the human populace in general…yeah, pass.
“Kora—” Lindsey didn’t get a chance to make a new excuse before Kora cut her off.
“Please come. I know it’s not really your thing, but it would be fun to hang out somewhere other than Reggie’s or my shop.” She raised her hand to Reggie. “Fabulous, as usual.”
He nodded at her, then went back to whatever he did behind the counter all day.
Lindsey sighed. “I’ll talk to Dax and see what he wants to do.”
In general, Dax’s decision wouldn’t weigh too heavily on what Lindsey did, but he’d proven himself skilled in calming her magic. If she intended to expose herself that way, she wanted him nearby in case of emergencies. He also provided a good cover if she needed another excuse for bailing.
Kora sat back with a satisfied grin. “David already roped Dax into helping set up a booth. You can keep me and Ana company while the menfolk put their muscles to good use.”
“I have muscles.”
“And you’ll have Pie on a Stick to keep them busy.”
Lindsey groaned. So much for using Dax as a handy excuse. “It sounded like there were capitals in there. Is that the official name? How do you even eat Pie on a Stick?”
“It’s kind of a two-hand maneuver. Honestly, I usually dump it in a bowl and eat it with a spoon, but don’t tell Maribeth at the bakery. She’s very proud of developing the right consistency to get the pie to stay in one piece while speared.”
Lindsey grimaced. “You’re not selling me on the mastery of it. Why didn’t she call them Pie Pops?”
Kora shrugged. “I’ve never asked, but if you’re imagining cake pop-sized pie, you need to think bigger.”
“Bigger?”
She held her hands in a circle the size of about half a regular pie pan. “Bigger. I’m not sure of the physics of it. There might be magic involved.”
Lindsey jerked at Kora’s word choice, but the other woman didn’t seem to notice. She’d been focusing too much on magic and gods and Dax the last few weeks if normal conversation made her jumpy. Maybe Kora and Ana had the right idea. She could use a mundane distraction.
Despite the dubious charms of the Pie on a Stick, Lindsey didn’t want to commit without at least talking to Dax. Distraction or not, she’d need him there. What a difference a couple of weeks had made.
She shook her head. “I make no promises. Just because Dax is operating as slave labor doesn’t mean I’ll come.”
Kora held up her hands in surrender, but her smile said she thought she’d won.
Lindsey left a short time later, waving to Reggie on her way out even though she’d never said more than a few words to the man. He waved back without comment. She appreciated the strong, silent type, but apparently, she liked cocky and loud better.
Back at the house, she left her purse in the kitchen and went in search of her favorite embodiment of cocky and loud. He wasn’t raiding the kitchen, so she assumed he’d decided to work while she was gone.
Dax sat at his computer in the office, headset firmly over his ears. Lindsey knocked, but he didn’t respond. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe to wait. His fingers flew over the keys as he offered a few noncommittal grunts to the person she heard on the other end. The tinny voice had to be Alex since Dax didn’t deal with clients directly.
He huffed, then reached up to hit a button next to his mic and slid it up next to the earpiece. When he swiveled the chair toward her, she braced herself to deal with an annoyed tech genius, but his eyes warmed when they landed on her. And the smile he sent her was one hundred percent sex.
“You’re back early.”
Lindsey shrugged the shoulder not pinned to the wall. “Not really. Everything okay in here?”
“Alex is cranky because of a client miscommunication. They asked for a rush change that he can’t handle without his set-up here. Ergo, I’m now the developer for this project.” He studied her. “Everything okay at the coffee shop?”
“The coffee shop was fine. Kora asked me to come to the Fourth Fest with her and Ana. Again.”
He tilted his head with a raised brow. “And you made excuses again?”
Lindsey grimaced. “I have valid reasons for not wanting to go.”
“I’m not casting aspersions. You know I’d rather we didn’t take chances. We haven’t seen any indication that the person-slash-god who tried to kill you has left the area. I know Calliope said they probably used up most of their power becoming physical enough to push you, but it’s been weeks since then. That said, you have to live your life.”
Lindsey rested her temple against the cool wood and sighed. “I hate the uncertainty. All this waiting is tying me up in knots, and my magic is still dangerously unpredictable.”
He patted his lap. “Why don’t you come on over here and I’ll see about making it all better?”
Lindsey couldn’t help her smile. “I have no doubt you’d make it better, but you know I’m not setting foot in that room.”
“The seal is safely locked away.”
“I know, but I’m not taking any chances. Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”
Dax swooned dramatically. “Hoisted by my own petard.” His head popped back up. “Did you know that a petard is a bomb? I always thought it was a sail or something, then Alex corrected me a couple of years ago.”
Lindsey squinted at him. “Why would Alex—” She shook her head and straightened off the wall. “Nice. I almost didn’t catch that misdirection. You’re getting better.”
“So is that a no on lap time?”
She chuckled. “Go back to work. I’m doing dinner tonight.”
Dax hopped out of the chair and rushed over to catch her before she moved out of the doorway. “Hold on. I’m missing something.”
He cupped the nape of her neck and stroked her jaw with his thumb as his mouth came down on hers. Lindsey relaxed instantly. She savored the slow, sweet kiss until he pulled back.
“That’s better.” His rough voice reflected the shivery heaviness that always filled her with his touch.
Lindsey patted his chest, and he lifted her hand to drag his lips across her knuckles. “That did make it a little better. Go back to work. We can talk over dinner.”
He held her hand until the last second as she walked away, and Lindsey felt his touch long after she turned the corner to the kitchen. Her mind drifted while she filled a pot with water for spaghetti.
Whatever god had stuck around posed a constant concern, so she’d tried to limit her time outside the house in an attempt to make
a second ambush more difficult. If she had some kind of guarantee that she could access her magic, she’d be fine with waiting, but the timeline sucked. For all Lindsey knew, she’d still be playing house with Dax years from now and be no closer to control.
The water came to a boil, so she added a generous handful of noodles. Her problem was two-fold—the threat of Lindsey against the general populace and the threat of a god or gods unknown to Lindsey personally. Sabine’s generous offer of her house had kept Lindsey’s costs fairly low, but eventually, she’d have to go back to work. What would she do then, only take jobs in the middle of nowhere?
Added to that, Calliope needed her help. Judging from her own experience with the gods, even without much power they were dangerous. After the fall, she hadn’t noticed any creepy watcher vibes, so maybe the god left after causing some havoc? Or maybe he didn’t have the energy to make it back to the house for his Peeping Tom act.
Either way, the Fourth Fest could provide a chance to lure him out, as long as Dax stayed close. Which meant she needed to share her plan with him if she intended to use him as a magic extinguisher.
“I think you should go to the festival with the ladies.”
Lindsey looked up from the colander. Dax stood in the doorway with a half-smile on his face. “Why?”
“Kora and Ana seem pretty taken with you, and it might be nice to make some friends besides me and Sabine.”
She sent him a teasing grin as she dumped pasta on two plates. “Who said you’re my friend?”
“Oh, I’m confident I’m more than a friend, but I don’t think the others are interested in the same special relationship.” He walked to the counter across from her and leaned on his elbows. “I think you lead a lonely existence.”
His words touched on an open wound she put considerable effort into ignoring. Lindsey concentrated on the tasks in front of her. Cover the spaghetti in jarred pasta sauce, add meatballs, sprinkle on parmesan. She didn’t meet his eyes until she was certain only amusement would show on her face.
