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They might also question why I invited the shifter to whom she is tethered to live with me as well.
I can certainly blame a witch for that, but I have no idea which one might be responsible. I know for certain it is not my Ivy. It doesn’t matter who cast the spell to tether the three of us together at this point. Whatever they want, they aren’t going to get. Leo is utterly useless to the world. After the sting of losing his pack’s loyalty, and barely surviving a fight to the death, he hasn’t been much for getting out of bed.
I can’t say I blame him. I’ve never been all that fond of shifters, and after witnessing them turn on their leader because of a twist of magic he had no control over, I am firm in my verdict that shifters are wretched.
Well, except for Leo.
And Mark isn’t too bad, either. In fact, the young twenty-seven-year-old man lost just as much and still had the wherewithal to fix a leaking sink while Ivy and I tended to Leo. He’s now working on recaulking one of the guest bathtubs.
I don’t fully understand the boy, but apparently, he lives here now, too, since he lost the pack right alongside Leo, fighting for his Alpha.
I make my way to the living room I most prefer, noting the fire already roaring in the hearth. There sits my Ivy, wrapped in a blanket because beneath is the sheer nightgown I bought her, which I’m sure she doesn’t want to parade around in with Mark in the house. Her creamy complexion has shadows of orange and flickers of yellow splicing the darkness. Her chocolate-colored hair makes her heart-shaped face that much more ethereal. She doesn’t look real. In fact, sometimes I worry she might be a figment of something perfect I have imagined into being.
It's been a week, and we are no closer to understanding why she, Leo and myself are tethered together, how to undo it, or if we truly want that.
“You’re staring,” she says quietly without looking up. She scoots over on my Bellagio-inspired red velvet couch that I’ve had restored twice over the past century. It never looked quite right until she sat on it. Now it’s my favorite piece of furniture. With Leo out of sorts, my little snack has been wandering around the manor, listless and quiet.
The couch is dusty. I never cared before Ivy and Leo moved in, but now I see the signs everywhere that before I met them, I was not well.
Do I still have a pile of dirty clothes on my floor?
When was the last time I dusted? Do I still own a duster?
I haven’t scrubbed the bathrooms in… I’m not sure how long. I wince at the hard truth, but then push it quickly away when Ivy beckons me to her.
I take the invitation she grants me and sit beside her, appreciating the cozy moment before the fire. She opens the blanket and wraps one end around my shoulders so we can enjoy the softness together.
I didn’t realize that’s what I needed, but the moment I settle in beside her, a deep exhale loosens the knot in my chest that’s been there for days—ever since Leo took to sleeping all hours of the day and night.
I know Ivy feels his agony, just as I do.
I take her hand and kiss her knuckles before resting her palm atop my thigh, where it belongs. “How is our shifter?” I ask her.
She leans into my side, her cheek resting on my chest as my arm falls around her. “The same. Blaming himself. Distraught at the loss. Not himself. The wounds on his chest are healing okay, though. At least there’s that.”
I stare at the flames, willing them to make sense of the world so I don’t have to endure the fruitless struggle for sanity. “He’ll come back to us. Give him time.”
She nods, and I am reminded that she is a therapist, so dealing with grief just so happens to be her specialty.
Again, she goes quiet, leaving me to guess at what is going on in her mind.
“Ivy,” I whisper, the sound far more desperate than I mean for it to be. “Ivy, is it wrong to tell you that I need you? Is that something I can say when things are still bleak?”
For the first time in days, I can tell she is hearing me. Her head swings up to stare into my eyes. “Aren’t you mad at me?”
My nose scrunches in confusion. “Mad at you? Why on earth would that be true? I’ve been giving you space so you could be with Leo because he needs you more right now.”
Insecurity crosses her features. “I made an amaranthine flame. I told you I didn’t have any magic, and that’s true. But when the pack turned on Leo, I touched a throw pillow, and it lit on fire. It was violet-colored and wouldn’t go out when I tried to smother it.” Her volume raises with the first hint of passion I’ve seen in her in a week. “I swear, I didn’t mean to do that! I didn’t know I could! I was angry and it just happened. But you don’t believe me. I can feel it. I know you’re upset, thinking I lied about not having magic, but it’s the truth, Calvin!”
I stroke my fingertips across her cherubic cheek, hoping to quell her anxiety as I graze a smattering of her freckles. “Do you think I’d truly be mad at you for that? I’m curious, sure, but not angry. If you lied to us about your magic, then I suppose I can’t fault you for that. We were strangers and didn’t meet under the most ordinary of circumstances.”
She shoots me a wry look. “You came to me while I was in agony in the woods, trying to get away from Leo while my arm was burning from the tether.”
“Exactly. We didn’t know each other.”
“But I really didn’t lie.”
I cup her shoulder and kiss her temple when she turns to face the hearth again. “I know that, love. I can sense magic in people. Comes with decades of practice. I knew you didn’t have much magic in you.” I can tell my words are hitting a sore spot, so I cup her shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you. If you randomly start setting things ablaze, my only concern is that you don’t start with the oil paintings. I’m partial to the collection I’ve been building on the second floor.”
