Page 39 of Wicked

“I hear you went after Dorian with a knife. Not gonna lie, I would have paid good money to see that.”

Buddy laughs. He actually laughs. When was the last time I heard him do that?

“Is he really dead?” I ask. The news said it, Manny said it, David said it, but I still need to hear it from Buddy.

“Yeah.”

“Thank fuck.”

“Thank Magic,” Anne says from the table. “She’s the one who took him from us. If it were me, I would have given him a more painful death, but what do I know?”

I smile. “I like her.” I was looking forward to getting to know her better. Now I won’t have a reason to. My smile fades.

“Candlewick, did you cook?” Buddy asks.

I force a laugh. “God, no. Manny’s around here somewhere. Probably checking the perimeter or preaching about the evils of carnal sin. He might even be checking the perimeterandpreaching at the same time.”

“I take it you two aren’t getting along very well?” Buddy seems concerned. How much does he know about my relationship with Manny?

Manny rushes back into the kitchen. I ignore the way he stares at me, as if he’s rethinking his decision. At this point, I can’t allow myself to hope that he will. I’ve already given him too many chances, and it was hard to offer him my heart in the first place.

Buddy leans in and says, “Is he immune to your charms?”

I swallow hard. “It would seem so.”

H joins Manny in the kitchen, leaving me alone with Buddy on the other side of the room. Buddy’s gaze follows H. His feelings for the alpha are so obvious, I’m tempted to give H a stern lecture about how fragile and innocent Buddy is. I hope he doesn’t get his heart broken.

Instead, I chat with Buddy about Dorian’s lawyer who stopped by earlier and Buddy’s connection to the Illusors. All the while, Manny keeps looking at me. What is his problem? I’m here, trying to keep it together while I’m desperate to nest and about to go into heat, and he’s already made it clear that he has no intention of helping me through my discomfort or trying to find a warlock last-minute. Can’t he leave me in peace?

I finally saunter over to where Manny is standing in front of the stove with a spatula.

“Are any of those pancakes for me?” I ask, getting close enough to him that our connection thrums between us like a lightning rod. I lean in and whisper, “Or is there another reason you’re staring at me?”

His face turns pink.

“There are plenty of bedrooms in this place if the two of you want to fuck instead of acting like silly teenagers,” Anne says.

Manny breaks eye contact with me to glance back at her. For a split second I think I see guilt in his eyes, then they gloss over until he looks dead inside, just like Buddy would have been if Dorian did the spell. “You know my religion doesn’t condone sex outside our sacred mating rituals.”

Anne seems confused for a second. She considers Manny for a moment before her gaze returns to me. I notice the way her nostrils flare momentarily as she takes in the situation. Suddenly, the confusion is gone. I think she can smell the onset of my heat too. Maybe all of the alphas in the room can.

“Religions are always hating on sex. In my experience, people have it anyway,” she tells Manny. Her tone is careful and kind. She understands how the onset of my heat changes everything, and she’s trying to give Manny space to love me anyway.

She isexactlylike Gran.

Manny sets the spatula on the counter. “I know you don’t respect my religion. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“You mean the religion that insists you’re going to hell even though you’re a good man?” Anne says. “You’re right, I don’t.”

Manny storms away from us. I watch him go, wondering if this is the last time I’ll see him. The strings of our connection tug at my heart like I’m a damn marionette, and I wonder if there will always be a thread inside my heart tied to him.

A horrible realization washes over me as he heads for the front door. Manny may always feel tied to me too. How will he feel about his actions today after everything is said and done? Will he hate himself for the intimate moments he shared with me the way he hates himself for what was done to him in the pits?

“I’m not going to force you,” I call out, hoping he’ll know what I mean. I don’t feel comfortable going into detail about what is happening between us, but I need him to know that I release him—that he doesn’t need to look back on today with regret.

Sometimes being fated just isn’t enough.

13

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