Where A Witch Goeth

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Fae Considerations

I summoned the cufflinks I'd warded and was able to retrieve three pairs—Evander's, Darrow's, and Geordie's. I could only hope that meant Ace was wearing his—he usually did, claiming he liked the design better than his regular ones. I recuffed Van and Dare, and then Van shadow-traveled our trio from a service closet by his suite to a service closet in the underground hallway that led to a lodge, but still well out of earshot of where the werewolves assembled there.

My nerves and my stomach were still frayed from rough liquor, the most powerful and magical orgasm I ever had, Vander's revelation that he truly believes I'm his wife reincarnated, and my horrible suspicion that he's got the wrong direction for how we are connected. The shadow travel put me over the top. I promptly booted again, this time in a conveniently located potted plant.

"Jesus, Van, she's in no shape for this," Dare said.

"I'm fine," I seethed, wiping my mouth with Evander's handkerchief.

"You're not fine. Da said you were all to pieces an hour ago, and you're all to pieces still." Dare leaned down, his head near my abdomen, cocking an ear. Evander growled at him and Dare backed up, hands raised.

"Just making sure," he said lightly, and I realized what he was doing. Listening for a heartbeat. In my womb.

"You're a real bastard, do you know that?" I hissed at him. "That's an invasion of privacy to...to... eavesdrop on my uterus like that."

Darrow looked utterly affronted by the word uterus, as if I had uttered the most distasteful word in existence. "Well, we all know you could be breeding," he hissed back. "Thanks to Cutter's canny neb, we all know about your mundane lover," he flicked his own nose.

Evander gave him a cold look. "Do you think I wouldn't know by now if she were with his child? She's had her courses since she's been here, and coming again any day."

Now I looked at Evander with the same kind of disdain Darrow had expressed moments before. "What the hell, Van?"

He shrugged, gestured at his own nose. "Vampire, remember? Obviously, I can't help knowing when you're bleeding, lass. You, on the other hand, Darrow—keep your distance from my mate's womb."

Dare looked angrier than before, "Oh, this witch is no longer your affianced, but your mate now? It's one thing to lie to the werewolves about such things, but you and I know only Albescu can bestow such privileges. Now you're not only Lord of a Sept, but the Leige Lord as well?"

"You should have a care whom you disrespect, son of my Sept," Evander growled.

This was an infuriating conversation, made even more annoying by the fact that pregnant was the last thing I could be. I hadn't had sex with anyone in this century, and in mine, I'd been on the pill and my boyfriend was a Safety King, having already experienced fatherhood as a result of an unplanned pregnancy.

I thought of Hannah, Nick's daughter that I had never officially met. But I'd seen the two of them together. What was happening to her now? It had been a month or more since Nick's making. Was he alive or dead? On packlands or back in his mortal life. Was Hanna missing her daddy?

Oh fuck, Nick. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

How many times had I sent my regrets across time to him?

All futile, meaningless apologies. I had done nothing to help Nick while I had been here. Nothing but a couple of fruitless searches for Morgan in the woods.

Right. Time to get this fucking ball rolling and start solving problems. My lovelife had to take a backseat because I was done being a helpless victim of fairies and vampires and circumstance and fate. I left Van and Dare arguing and strode down the hall, throwing open the doors to the Lodge.