Page 35 of First Ritual

Surprise mixed with the playfulness. “Let’s really give them something to talk about then. Where are you heading? I’ll walk you.”

“Apothecary. And good. Because I’m not sure I can find it.”

He gestured down the tunnel, and we walked side by side. He took up most of the tunnel, forcing my shoulder to brush against the other wall every so often.

I nodded at those we passed, and when the third coven member went by, the slight shock from each of them seemed more than coincidence. Maybe we would create a scandal. They must be assuming that Sven and I had spent the night together.

I slipped my hand into his.

His chuckle was as big as him. “I could enjoy you, Bronte.”

“I’m still deciding,” I murmured. “What do you want?”

A second chuckle. “Whatever could you mean, small woman?”

“Are you doing dirty work for Wild, large man?”

I felt his focus on me. “Why do you mention Wild? Is he on your mind?”

My lips quirked at his teasing tone. “He is actually. A lot.”

Sven’s focus drew in to a pinprick, and I got the sense that his joking covered a very astute man. Something I’d already half-assumed—mostly because Wild’s lack of patience wouldn’t allow for less in friends.

“Oh?” prompted the hulking magus.

I sighed. “Yes, but never mind.”

Sven spun me against the wall and lowered his head to mine. I fluttered my eyelashes, and he grinned again. “My, my, small woman, I do believe you’re playing with your food.”

“Not me,” I answered. “I go straight for the kill.”

He tilted his head. “Good to know. Tell me why my friend is on your mind.”

“Wild said that he would talk to his friends about this… I’m unsure how much to say though. How strong is your friendship with him?” I searched Sven’s face. He was just as handsome as Wild, though not my usual type. The contrast of his button-up shirt over his bulging muscles tickled my interest.

Sven’s eyes lost the teasing glint. “We’re the best of friends.”

My shoulders eased. “That makes me more comfortable saying something. I’ve had a couple of interactions with Wild in the last couple of days, and I feel he’s struggling with chaos. His mood is erratic. He’s rude and argumentative and pushy. And—” I frowned as Sven’s shoulders started shaking. “What?”

Sven stilled. “Nothing. Please continue.”

I narrowed my gaze. “What’s funny?”

“You’re describing his personality.” He snorted loudly, then whooped.

“Are you certain? This seemed to go beyond normal. He was trembling—his shoulders heaving and everything. I thought he was crying—”

Sven laughed harder.

“—then I saw his hands were fisted. He rushed me. There was growling, and he got way too close. If that’s normal for him, then he has serious issues.”

“He really does,” Sven answered, leaning closer.

Whispers broke out from passing coven members.

I peered closer. “Did you think I wouldn’t know, large man?”

“Know what?” he murmured.

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