The only one who didn’t have full safe passage on his own lands was Caelan.
“Alright,” I said quietly. “Was there anything else, Jensen?”
The poor teenager was trembling with fear. “Just—” He licked his lips. “Just that if Evie refused, there would be consequences.”
Claws slid from Rowan’s fingers—thick, sharp claws that cut through the fabric of his athletic pants. I gave his thigh a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you for relaying his message to us.” I rose and reached for Rowan’s hand. “We’ll walk you back to your mother now.”
Jensen stood as well. “Umm. Do you have a message to take back?”
I smiled, though with the way Jensen shrank back, the gesture wasn’t as comforting as I thought. “No,” I said. “We will reach out to your Lord directly.”
Jensen’s gaze flicked back and forth between Rowan and me, possibly trying to figure out which one of us was the most dangerous.
Normally, I would have said me, but Rowan’s posture was tight, and the glow in his eyes had not faded. He was close to losing control.
I had dealt with enough of Caelan’s bullshit to know he was posturing. We both knew who had the upper hand here, and it wasn’t him.
“Come,” I said. “Let us walk you back to your mother.”
Jensen nodded and walked ahead of us, his shoulders tight and his head bowed.
I had a message for Caelan, alright. One I would delight in giving him very soon.
Chapter
Five
Icalled Dad to send Sheila and Jensen home. While one day I’d be able to do so without a thought, I was still nervous about my new magic. In my head, I imagined them exploding into a shower of atoms.
Dad told me I was overreacting and that the most that might happen was them winding up in a different place than where I’d sent them.
When I asked if he meant I might put them over the Atlantic Ocean at night, he paused way too long for comfort.
Now he acted as a taxi service until I was 100% confident I’d send people where they needed to go, when I needed them there.
Caelan might shit his pants when those two popped into existence from thin air, and knowing my father’s wicked sense of humor, he’d put them right in the most inconvenient and embarrassing place he could find.
Once they were gone and Dad had said his goodbyes, Rowan and I curled up on the couch.
“What’s the plan?”
I glanced up at him and smiled. Rowan always had a way about him that made me feel important, even powerful. He rarely questioned my decisions, even when we both knew I wasgoing too far. I almost killed Caelan a few months ago and would have if he had not stepped in. Rowan never told me not to, never questioned my right to vengeance, or even for violence. He merely asked me if I was sure.
His small, quiet question brought me back from the brink of something I could never take back.
I had been well within my rights to kill him, but if I had, I would have broken something inside—something vital.
Rowan realized this and handled the situation with care and love.
Without realizing what was happening, I’d fallen in love with him a little bit at a time. Friendship had come first, kinship second, safety third, attraction next, and then I realized I no longer wanted to live without him.
Caelan was a storm, an ocean squall I couldn’t escape, and for a while, I didn’t want to. But that storm grew and grew until suddenly, I could no longer keep my balance.
Rowan was a gentle spring rain, a safe harbor I could stand under until I came back to myself.
His brow furrowed. “You’re staring.”
