Page 21 of Waltzing With Witches

“Love you both,” I whisper.

“Be careful,” Thea says.

“Call any time of day or night,” offers Wren.

“And, oh, I don’t know, maybe get laid by the hot vampire who lives here!” Lou shouts at the top of her lungs.

Shock slices through me. I rip out of my sisters’ arms and make a leap for my dumbass aunt.

Lou shrieks playfully and sprints for the hall. I chase her toward the front of the castle, my sisters’ laughs echoing behind us.

CHAPTER SEVEN

KEEPER

Richard and Connall left hours ago, and I’ve been muddling over our conversation ever since. Still, it’s impossible not to hear the women talking in the kitchen. It’s impossible not to focus on her.

On that throaty voice that visits me sometimes when I dream. On the frustrated edge to her tone. On the knowledge that I could make it better.

But making things temporarily more pleasurable for her would only backfire in the long run. I can’t keep her.

I toss my comm disk onto the floor and mash a button, irritated energy bundling under my skin.

A pale, feathered face appears, birdlike eyes crinkling in the corners. “Hello, Keeper,” Moira says.

“I need more potion,” I snap. “Our last conversion on this topic was not satisfactory.”

She sighs and unfolds both wings, stretching them before replacing them back at her sides. Dark eyes turn to me, and I suspect what she’ll say before she says it.

I snarl. “Before you say no again, consider that she’s still in my home, Moira. Consider that I can hear her all day long. This castle has been full of visitors today. I’m irritated.”

Moira’s dark brows travel up. “Intense emotion returning so soon?”

“As expected,” I bark. “My emotion has always run higher than other Keepers’. Hence the fucking potion. I need more.”

Moira sighs, looking off into the distance.

“I hope that look means you’re considering it, old friend.” I have a trump card I can play that’ll force her to send me more dampening potion, but I don’t want to play that card unless I absolutely have to.

“I’ll do it,” she says after an interminable silence. “But, as you know, I’m visiting Celset so it’ll take some time to brew it. I’m low on supplies.”

“I’ll take what you have,” I say in a softer tone. “Please courier it immediately. I don’t know how long she’s staying for.”

Moira cuts me a look, her eyes filled with sorrow. “I’m so sorry, my friend. Sorry for my part in this, and sorry that you feel the need to take these measures.”

“Just courier it quickly, Moira, please,” I tack on. My foot hovers over the button to end the call, but I wait a moment.

“She’s breaking through the walls I steadfastly put in place,” I admit. “Having her here is already overwhelming.”

“I can’t imagine.” She ruffles the feathers that crown her head, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Keeper, I—”

Normally, emotion doesn’t faze me in the slightest. It’s simply another indicator, another reference point for me to consider when making decisions.

This time, it’s different. I don’t want to see her face scrunch up or her beak tremble. I don’t want those facial signals that mean emotion is flowing over.

I stomp on the end call button on the comm disk, relief flooding through me when Moira’s face disappears from view. Slumping back in my seat, I steeple my fingers and consider this.

I don’t second-guess myself. I can’t afford to. I can’t spend time wondering if my logic is flawed or broken, and Keeper conditioning taught me that.

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