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“Do you need water? Food?” Elliot let go of me and dashed around the room, checking each gaudy table and behind the flashing jukebox as though he’d find a hidden fridge.
Moe rubbed my lower back, and I wanted to melt against him like butter in a frying pan.
“I’m okay,” I said. “It’s over.”
Jag broke off our hug to glare at Ram as he cracked his knuckles. “Did he hurt you?”
Ram slouched on the carpet, and my heart contracted as though to flinch away from him.
“I told you I’m fine.”
“Don’t, Jag,” Moe said. “Whatever happened hurt him too.”
He untangled himself from me and jogged across the room to drop to his knees by Ram and Beverly. Ram gaped at him as though startled anyone would come to his aid.
“But what happened?” Jag demanded again. “You don’t scream in agony for no reason.”
I opened my mouth to answer but hesitated. If Jag, Elliot, and Moe knew a fated mate spell was in the works, they might suspect it was binding us together too. Then they’d want out. They hadn’t chosen this, and they hadn’t chosen me.
My rising panic at the prospect of losing the bond was more surprising than Ram’s selfless act. Why should I want to be bound to guys I barely knew, anyway? I hadn’t wanted anyone since Ram had asked me to kill Juniper. Plus, these emotions were from the magic. They weren’t real.
“Alyssa?” Jag said.
I took a deep breath. “Ram broke a spell that was… binding us. It’s painful to end, but it’s for the best. We have more fucked-up history than the Romans.”
Ram grimaced, but he didn’t deny it.
Jag ran a hand through his hair, and fuck, I wanted to do the same. His hair was curly and perfect and soft and—
Shut up, brain! There’s a situation here.
“Good,” Jag said. “I mean, it’s not good that you have a painful past, but it’s good that you’re free of him.”
Not yet, I wasn’t. Not until we escaped this bubble dimension. Even then, I’d have to fight Ram when he inevitably tried to kill Juniper again.
Moe patted Ram’s shoulder. “Are you feeling well, buddy?”
Ram’s brows shot up, and he leaned away from Moe like the other guy had leprosy. “You don’t need to pretend to care.”
“I never pretend!” Moe said. “I’m so bad at it that the community theater fired me, even though it was a volunteer trope!”
“Troupe,” I corrected.
“No, I wasn’t in the army,” Moe said. “I considered it, but I don’t like shooting at targets. They never hurt anyone!”
I had shot magic at lots of real people. Why in the hell did the mate spell choose to bind Moe and me?
Elliot turned from the gleaming gold cabinet he had been trying to yank open. His eyes met mine and turned soft. “You mentioned magic binding people together… I understand this feeling now, even though I never thought I’d experience it.” He stared at me in awe. “This is a mate bond.”
They were going to figure it out sooner or later. Still, my heart dropped so low it fell out of my ass.
The best thing would be to break the spell and set Jag, Elliot, and Moe free. A part of me hoped to experience their love and tenderness for longer, though. But fuck, if Ram could do the right thing, I surely could. “It’s a mate spell, probably from the collar on Beverly. They’re as common in Silver Springs as dog shit in a park.”
Elliot went very still. “It’s just a spell?”
“Oh, I know about those! The mate bonds, not the dog shit, though I know that too!” Moe said as he settled onto the carpet next to Ram and Beverly. “I was a counselor at a camp for teenage werewolves, and some of them found their mates. Also, some of them pooped while in wolf form.”
Ram gave him a what-the-fuck look.
