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“Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”
“What is it?” he asks, reaching up to brush a lock of blonde hair back from my face.
“Steph can call another council meeting for me to attend. If they think there’s even a chance I’ll bring up the prophecy, my parents will be there to stop me. I’m sure of it.”
He stares into my eyes for a long moment, then nods slowly. “I think you’re right.”
Smiling, I lower myself back down beside him, resuming my previous position. Jesse combs his fingers through my hair while I finally, truly relax, feeling confident in my plan. If Steph calls another meeting, my parents will come.
I know they will.
45
A FAMILIAR FACE
It’s been a week since I brought up the idea of another council meeting to Steph, and just like I knew she would, she’s delivered. After we landed in Philadelphia, a car took us directly from the tarmac where private planes land to the hotel. Steph insisted we fly east since the last meeting was on the west coast. Apparently, council meetings are held in different cities each time so the same witches don’t have to travel far distances to every single one.
Once we check in at the hotel, we head up to our rooms. When everyone is settled in, they meet Jesse and I in our room to go over the game plan.
“Because we’re using the conference room at a public hotel for the meeting, a few witches will spell the room to be soundproof,” Steph reminds us even though we’ve been over it before.
Erik grunts with dissatisfaction, earning a hug from Steph, and Jesse frowns in my direction. I offer him a comforting smile, but his expression doesn’t change. Leif, who came with us for extra protection, remains stoic and unfazed in the corner.
“I’ll be fine,” I say to Jesse, reading his turbulent thoughts. “I can take care of myself, and if anything goes awry, I have Steph.”
“And nobody fucks with the head of the council,” Steph adds before pressing a light kiss to Erik’s cheek.
I can tell Jesse wants to argue, and pride floods through me when he manages to refrain from doing so. I know he trusts me to take care of myself. He believes in me. He knows I’ve got this.
But he also loves me, and his first instinct is to shield me from anything dangerous or even slightly unpleasant. I know agreeing to this has a battle waging inside him, and I love that his trust in me and my abilities is winning the war.
“I love you,” I whisper, and his frown fades the tiniest bit.
“Okay, Eden. You ready?” Steph asks, and I give her a nod before pulling Jesse in for a deep kiss.
He returns it forcefully, and I have to push myself away from him to break the contact before I decide to hell with the meeting and kick the others out so we can finish what we started. But that will come later. This meeting is too important.
Steph and I are silent as we ride the elevator down to the second floor, where the conference rooms are located. The sign outside the door reads “Smutty Book Lovers of America,” and I catch Steph’s eye before jerking my head toward it.
Her eyes light up as she chuckles, whispering, “I thought you’d like that. We obviously can’t book the room under ‘North American Witch Council,’ now can we?”
I shake my head as I laugh, but my humor fades quickly. The name Steph picked was obviously a nod to me and my profession as a romance author, and the reminder that I haven’t written anything in months leaves me feeling at odds. I miss it, but the idea of writing vampire romance as a vampire in the midst of an actual epic love story? I’m conflicted. On one hand, I have real, first-hand experience to draw from. On the other, I don’t want to share the details of my own love story with the masses. And how could I write it without adding tidbits from my own experience?
I don’t think I can.
Plus, I’ve been pretty busy, what with becoming a witch, battling evil witches and taking control of their werewolves, becoming a vampire, searching for clues from my past, and battling more evil witches…
It’s been a lot.
And my work-in-progress has languished, untouched on my laptop since this whole adventure began. I’ll get back to it someday. Maybe.
I refocus on the task at hand as we enter the room. My eyes flit across the space, and I realize everyone is here, making Steph and I the last to arrive. We take our seats and watch silently as a few witches cast the spell to soundproof the room, and when they finally finish and sit, Steph calls the meeting to order.
I honestly have no idea what is discussed as I turn my focus inward and search for any signs that my parents have infiltrated the meeting again. Steph said she’d come up with something to justify calling this gathering so soon after the last, and I trust her to handle it.
The problem is, I feel nothing.
There’s no twist in my gut. No feeling of being watched––outside the eyes I can see flicking my way every few seconds. And no scent of decaying flowers to indicate my parents’ magic being used.
