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“You should probably go get in the shower,” he whispers against my lips. “Ava will have a fit if we’re late.”
My heart is a mess in my chest as I nod, hurriedly kiss his cheek, then bolt from his arms to lock myself in the bathroom.
When I peel my shirt off, my jaw nearly cracks against the floor. The once prominent scars are now nothing but ghosts of thin white lines, almost gone yet not quite.
He healed me. I never thought it would be possible. I thought I’d always have to bear the scars. It makes me wonder if perhaps they could be gone completely one day.
CHAPTER25
Rune journeys with us to Ava’s, but requests to stay outside.
“I’m not a fan of witches,” he explains. “They’re always after something.”
Jules grants him permission, and then him and I join Ava in her cottage.
After Jules introduces me to Ava, we dine for a while and lightly chat about magical creatures and lands.
I’ve never met a witch before, that I can recall, anyway. For some stupid reason, I pictured them looking similar to the witch costumes humans often wear on Halloween: long, black hair; green skin; a long nose; and of course, a wart. Because a witch isn’t a witch without a wart, right?
Wrong.
Ava is the exact opposite. Wavy, golden hair; sun-kissed skin; a cute, little nose; and no warts whatsoever. She’s gorgeous, to say the least, in a way that doesn’t match the wolf kingdom. Where every creature here is all gothic, tattoos, piercings, and moonlight; she’s jewels, shimmer, and sunshine. Well, in terms of looks. Her personality is a bit intense, as I’m finding out the longer we dine with her.
“I just don’t get why those stupid pixies keep eating all my roses,” she gripes as she pours her fifth glass of what she refers to as stardust wine, which tastes as lovely as that faerie magic wine, without the potent kick. “If they don’t knock it off, I’m going to put up traps.”
“I’d rather you not.” Jules takes a sip from his jewel-encrusted goblet. “I prefer to chase them out of the kingdom, not kill them.”
Ava pops a strawberry into her mouth. “That’s because you’re just like your mother.”
Jules winces at the mention of his mom then reaches for a few strawberries.
“That’s not an insult,” Ava continues, either oblivious to Jules’ discomfort or doesn’t give a shit. “You should take pride in the fact that you’re like your mother and nothing like your father.”
“I do.” He takes a long gulp of wine.
“And what about you?” Ava revolves in her chair toward me and crosses her legs.
She’s barely noted my presence the entire night, leaving me doubting that Jules’ little seduction plan is going to work.
I reach for my goblet. “What about me?”
She rests her elbows on the table, her glittery gold lips tilting upward. “Are you more like your father or your mother?”
“Um …” I glance at Jules, unsure how to respond since he hasn’t mentioned anything about my lost memories yet.
“Or is that why you came to see me?” The devious gleam in her eyes makes me queasy. “To remember the parents you forgot.”
“How do you know about that?” Jules asks, licking strawberry juice from his lips.
“Because I knew her parents and know part of her story.” Her gaze darkens. “So please, quit wasting my time with formalities and tell me what really brought you to my cottage tonight.”
Wait? She knew my parents? My parents knew a witch?
I down a long swallow of wine to avoid blurting out questions and ruining our chance of getting what we want tonight.
Jules relaxes back in the chair, rolling up the sleeves of his grey overshirt. “We want to know why Lake can’t remember. And if there’s a way to bring her memories back.”
Ava drums her fingernails against the table. “And what’s in it for me?”
