Genevieve stood at the end of the hall, speaking to Gemini as she passed a wet towel along her flushed face. Betty Sue and Delilah stood on either side of her, sweating profusely and dabbing their faces with handkerchiefs. Repairing this war zone must have exhausted them.

The older witches had changed out of their street clothing and into long maiden-type dresses similar to Genevieve’s. Maybe the dress was required when casting a cleanup spell as powerful as this, but their clothing did nothing to enhance their natural beauty. And, as much as I had initially liked them, both seemed more like wannabe witches than the powerful enchantresses I’d first met.

Gem still wasn’t wearing a shirt. He crossed his muscular arms as he listened attentively to the witches. I noticed Genevieve taking him in with more than professional interest. I also sensed Taran’s rising anger when Genevieve made a comment that caused him to chuckle.

Gem must have sensed the snap, crackle, and F-you surge of Taran’s dwindling power because his head whipped around in our direction.

“Easy, Taran,” Aric said quietly. “The last thing anyone needs, especially Celia, is another throw-down.” He cleared his throat. If he meant to draw attention from Taran’s swearing, I doubt he succeeded. “I’m taking Celia home. Gemini will see to your payment on the next business day, Genevieve.”

She smiled and nodded. Betty Sue, not so much. As Aric’s mate, I felt like I should also say something and hopefully placate the witches. “Thank you for your help. If I could ever return the favor, please let me know.”

Betty Sue rolled her eyes and stormed away with Delilah hot on her trail. Genevieve’s talisman glimmered when she called after them. “My sisters, I have not dismissed you.”

Betty Sue’s steps involuntarily slowed, but then she wrenched free from Genevieve’s hold in a magical pull that snapped back in our faces like a rubber band. Delilah whirled with her hands out when Genevieve’s magic gathered in a roar that shook the building.

“Don’t do it, shug,” Delilah warned. Her stare cut my way. “Betty Sue’s just riled seeing how there’re those around us who can’t be trusted.”

Aric and the Warriors answered the insult with growls loud enough to rattle the glass panels. Delilah ignored them, then she and Betty Sue vanished in a crack of lightning strong enough to rival Genevieve’s power.

I rubbed my weary eyes. Great, more Celia Wird fans. Pretty soon, they’ll start their own club.

Genevieve turned back to us, a small frown creasing her forehead yet somehow making her appear more lovely. “Forgive my sisters’ rudeness, Celia. With your permission, I’ll have them make a formal apology when you’re feeling better.”

“It’s not necessary.” I glanced over at Taran, who was scowling at Genevieve. “If you’ll excuse us, I need to go home.”

“Of course,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

Gemini stepped toward Taran. “May I walk you out?”

“No,” Taran answered. “Heaven forbid I’d interrupt your good time.” She stomped away with more attitude in her step than I’d seen in months—head in the air and hips swaying in a way that told me we’d all better keep our distance. Emme followed hesitantly behind her, but not before stealing a worried glance over her shoulder.

Gemini watched her exit the ED, his brows knitting tight. “Just give her space,” Aric told him. “In time, she’ll find her way back to you.”

My gaze cut to Aric. Despite everything Taran claimed Gemini had done, Aric seemed to feel that Taran had caused the rift between them.

“I’m not so certain,” Gemini told him. He continued to stare ahead even though Taran was no longer in sight. It seemed Aric wanted to say more, but instead he carried me out of the ED and into the lot, carefully placing me within the safety of his Escalade.

Aric kept his arm around me on the way home. Aside from telling me the wolves would bring my car back, he didn’t say much. He carried me up to our room when we arrived and turned on the shower.

All I wanted to do was crawl into our bed, except when I caught my reflection in the mirror, I realized it was definitely a bad idea. My hair was matted and caked with blood and bits of fur. Black ooze from Edith’s injury drew a line from my right shoulder down to my breast. And don’t get me started on the thick layer of blood and ash painting most of my body.

Crap. How am I even alive?

“What happened to you tonight, Aric?” I asked as I continued to stare in the mirror. I’d been afraid to ask him for fear that he’d feel worse, but now that we were alone, I needed to know.

Aric’s eyes swept over the disgusting glop shellacking my body before finally settling on my face. “I couldn’t sleep without you,” he said quietly. “I’d gone downstairs to watch TV, trying to pass the time before I could visit you on your break. I was damn restless, but never once did I sense that you were in danger.” He rubbed hard at his face, frustrated. “If it weren’t for Gemini’s call, I’d still be sitting in the family room like an idiot.”

“Oh” was all I could manage.

He shook his head as his anger built. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, or to us. But I don’t sense our bond like I used to. It’s killing me, because I want it to be there, and it’s not.”

His light brown irises shimmered. I’d seen Aric cry a few times. Those moments were rare, but riven with sorrow worthy of his tears. Despite my putrid odor and the lingering scent of Genevieve’s magic, I could scent his rising fear. It enveloped us, threatening to choke us and rob us of the future he’d promised.

My eyes stung with tears. Aric believed he was losing his connection to me. And I couldn’t be sure he was wrong. Whatever plagued him was affecting us on a level I couldn’t understand. I didn’t have to be a being of magic to sense it.

“Aric…”

A single tear slid down his cheek, forcing me to avert my gaze. I’d always hated seeing others cry, even those I didn’t know, partly because it was never a luxury I could afford.

Then I’d met Aric.

Without actually saying so, he’d given me permission to cry and, without meaning to, had often been the cause of my grief. But these weren’t tears over the loss of our child, our friend, or our relationship. These were tears of the unknown, and his recognition that something had come between us.