Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“What’s happening?” I asked, turning in my seat to face him.
“I only wanted that potion mixed up because I want you to be ready if something attacks you and I can’t help.”
Seeing how miserable he looked, I rushed to reassure him. “I’ll be fine. Truly.”
He took hold of my hand. “You’ve told me before that you’re not powerful off Corvus, and that’s stuck in my head.”
“Yes, but I’m not completely helpless either,” I reminded him. “I’m a branded witch, after all. I can always fly home.”
“Okay,” he rasped, glancing away.
“Love.” When he didn’t react, I tried again. “Hey,” I said softly, and finally, those beautiful eyes of his were back on me. “I appreciate the worry, and it was smart to have the amalgam ready. Now let’s go get the priest so we can have a chat about demons.”
His brows furrowed as he continued to stare at me.
“I was going for upbeat.”
“Stop. Please.”
I tugged on his hand until he leaned over and kissed me. “Everything’s going to be all right,” I promised him.
“I appreciate the thought,” he said before kissing me again.
Lorne had put his uniform back on because he wanted to be at the cemetery in his official capacity in case anything strange happened. The “in case” was hysterical. It was a cemetery at night with a priest and paranormal investigators. Strange was a foregone conclusion. Regardless, he wanted to be both prepared and armed. This included his main weapon, his Glock 17, but also his backup, a SIG Sauer P320 Compact he carried in his ankle holster. Since we were riding in the police utility vehicle, there was also a rifle mounted in there. I didn’t think any of that was necessary, but on the other hand, I knew nothing about demons, so it might all prove useful. I knew more about defending Corvus than anything else, so I was already out of my depth.
Once we picked up Father Dennis and drove to the Bread & Butter diner—Father Dennis liked the Reuben there better than at Waxing the Moon—I realized this was not a place conducive to talking. People kept popping by the table to say hello to either the chief of police or the priest. Both were equally popular. I noted that while the priest had lots of families approaching him, Lorne had lots of single men and women wanting to have a quick word. None missed the opportunity to shake his hand or squeeze his bicep or shoulder.
“Are you growling?” Father Dennis asked me as our food was delivered by an overly chatty waitress, who found everything Lorne said either utterly riveting or hysterical.
“Maybe,” I answered, and once she left, I ordered Lorne out of the booth.
“Why?” he asked even as he moved, standing there as I scooted over and stood up.
I gestured for him to go in first.
“Xan, my food is right here.”
Switching the plates, then the drinks, I repeated my non-verbal direction.
“What is the point of this?” But he got in and got situated as I took the seat beside him.
Father Dennis grunted. “The point is Xander being tired of having his fiancé accosted by everyone who happens by the table.”
“What? No,” Lorne said, cutting his cheeseburger in half, then glancing at me.
I stared at him.
“You can’t possibly be thinking about that when we have something scary to talk to Father Dennis about.”
“Lorne, love, there may or may not be a demon walking around Osprey, but I can confirm, without question, that there are lots of people who want to spend time with you. That is more than obvious.”
Lorne picked up his burger.
“Not yet,” Father Dennis said. We bowed our heads, and he blessed the food. “Okay, now we can eat.”
“You have lost your mind, Xan,” Lorne muttered, then took a bite of his burger.
“I don’t think so,” I replied snidely. “You’re just oblivious.”
“I think I know when people are flirting with me,” he said with an eye roll, wiping his mouth—between the cheese and everything else, it was messy—before taking a sip of his lemonade. “And no one is.”
“I thought policemen were supposed to be observant,” Father Dennis goaded Lorne. “My goodness, son, does everyone who comes by need to feel every muscle in your arm?”
Lorne shot him a disparaging look before turning back to me. “Can we focus, please?”
“Maybe now I can,” I retorted, cutting my veggie burger in half.
“Eat boys,” Father Dennis directed. “You need to take sustenance before battle.”
“Battle?” I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Eat,” he ordered me.
I was going to question him or argue that I wasn’t a child and therefore could not be commanded to do things, but as his one lifted brow promised a fairly serious diatribe on listening to one’s elders, I shut up and did as directed.
Back in the police vehicle, Father Dennis chuckled. “You know, I haven’t been in one of these since college. They’re so much nicer now.”