Page 53 of Expensive

“Kim wouldn’t accept my life as a sacrifice, but she offered to bring my mate back to life in exchange for the life of our two-year-old child. She’s a snake, Andrew. And she can’t find out we’re here. Go.”

I want to give him a hug or at the very least apologize for asking him that question, but I don’t think that’s what Howard wants.

I take heavy steps toward the house. My entire body is screaming to stay away from it—that something about it is wrong. I suppose my body is right, but I can’t listen to it right now.

A wide marble staircase leads to two double doors with a metal knocker at the center. I reach for the knocker, but my fingers push right through into the door. I yank my hand back just as the door solidifies, and the knocker turns to solid, cold metal under my fingertips.

Howard warned me that visiting here was dangerous.

I bang the knocker four times, then I wait. And wait. And wait.

Howard said I only had an hour before the grounding spell wore off. I try the doorknob experimentally, and it twists open. It might not be a great idea to let myself into the house of a powerful warlock, but I’m past the point of caution.

The house is familiar in a lot of ways. It has the same high ceilings and wood trimming as the Monroe mansion. There are even paintings of dragons hanging on the walls. It’s almost as if they were built around the same time and decorated by the same person. Except this house is lit with candles, instead of electricity, and I don’t think there’s any central heating, because it’s almost as cold inside as it was outside.

I wander down the halls, poking my head into the empty rooms. Many of them are covered in dust and cobwebs. One of the bedrooms even has a broken window. An expanse of mold spreads along the ceiling of that room and veins out toward the hallway.

The farther I get into the house, the more solid the walls and floors seem. It’s like a blurry picture that’s coming into focus all around me. The hallway leads to a large dining room with a table that has been cleaned recently and a pair of French doors that open to a garden.

Rose bushes twice as tall as me are in full bloom, despite how cold it is outside. I walk toward the door, but it opens before I can get there, and a woman in a long white dress steps inside. She has dark curls piled on top of her head, leaving her long, pale neck exposed where the indentations of her bond bite are visible. Her skin shimmers as she stares back at me, like a ghost.

The most solid thing about her is the blood red gem hanging from a chain on her neck. The chain looks identical to Howard’s necklace, but the stone is completely different. Nothing about it is rough or discolored. It’s cut in a precise geometric pattern like a jewel from a decorative necklace. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume it was simply a fancy bauble to match her lacy dress.

“Well, hello. I wasn’t expecting company. I see you’ve made yourself at home,” she says, gesturing to my robe. Somewhere along the way I forgot what I was wearing.

“I’m sorry. I… my name is Andrew. Andrew Sullivan.”

She gives me a wry smile. “Ah. Another Sullivan. Are you here to bargain for your father’s fortune? Or perhaps he was your grandfather.”

“No.” I suppose my father already did that in his own way. “I was magically tied to a man who couldn’t bond to me before he died. I have a bond ache.”

She clenches her jaw. “Those foolish warlocks. Handing out magical ties like they’re candy. Let me guess. He was far too old for you, but he had an obscene amount of money, so you took the risk.”

That’s true, but it isn’t the whole truth.

“I was eighteen. My father set it all up.”

She steps closer to me, her white skirt moving more like a cloud than fabric around her legs. “So you hope I’ll take pity on you and fix all your problems with a bit of magic?”

I guess that’s exactly what I thought. Howard made it seem like Sarah was the nice warlock. Are they both evil? What have I gotten myself into?

“I assume a warlock brought you here. There’s magic holding you down. I can see it swimming around your ankles.”

“Yes. He said he couldn’t do the spell, but maybe you could.”

She purses her lips. “Did he tell you what kind of spells I specialize in?”

“Memory magic?”

“Did he tell you what memory magic does to those who use it?” she asks.

“I… no.”

She turns around and walks back to the French doors. “Memory magic is blood magic, and blood magic always leaves a mark. The more complex and powerful the spell, the deeper the mark. And the marks memory magic leave behind aren’t easy to live with.”

I follow her outside, watching the way she almost floats across the ground, stopping in front of a pink rose bush. Perched on the edge of its petals is a bee.

“A bond ache, at its heart, is the pain caused by an unfulfilled connection. I could take away your memory of that connection, Andrew. That’s what I would need to do in order to remove your bond ache with memory magic. But I would have to remove your former mate from your mind completely for it to work, including every part of your life that’s remotely tied to him. I’m assuming you live in a very nice house? You won’t remember it after this spell. You won’t remember the money you inherited either. In fact, you probably won’t remember a single day of your life since you met him. Not only because you live in his house and spend his money, but because you ache for him.”

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