Page 117 of Entranced By the Basilisks

“It’s just a lot at once.”

“You said that, understandably, about the blessing, too,” I remark.

Her lips curl against my chest. “I think that's just life. Everything is a lot at once. But this… this feels like it’s going to make things complicated.”

It will. I hum and don’t voice the words yet, but we’re traversing lands that haven’t been touched before. This complicates things. There’s no telling what Ari’s reaction to us bonding without him will be, let alone the Circle’s reaction to my bonding with a Chosen who hasn’t been presented.

This could all go very poorly, but at this moment, I hold my mate to my chest and feel the resonating bond between us. There isn’t an ounce of regret in me.

There’s a commotion outside my office door and we both freeze. Emilia shifts the snakes back into her hair right as a man bursts in, followed by a woman who sniffs.

“I’m sorry, Director. I tried to tell them that you were occupied,” Agnes says from behind them.

The office smells like sex, but I think the woman’s reaction is to my rumpled appearance. Emilia leaves my embrace, but I keep my hand resting at the curve of her waist, unable to allow her to put distance between us so soon after forging our bond.

“We have business to discuss that is above the level of an assistant,” the man says, looking down his nose at Agnes.

“And what business is that?” I ask. My voice is frigid. This man has insulted Agnes. Agnes, who works tirelessly to benefit the building.

“The business of your reputation.” The man’s lip curls in a sneer. I recognize him then, this is Chad Owens, no doubt accompanied by his wife, Samantha Owens. This is the witch couple that has been giving Agnes so many headaches involving the party turned gala they’re wanting to take place at the library.

I try to keep my face blank of negative emotions. They are substantial donors to the library. His words finally hit me.

“What do you mean, my reputation?” I ask.

Mrs. Owens’s lips purse before she responds. “We’ve been made aware that your family is a dishonorable one. We cannot in good conscience tie our names to this library while you are director here.”

Frustration churns in my chest. Losing them as patrons would be unfortunate.

“You have one week to resign before we involve the Council. I’m sure they’d be very interested in losing patrons for the library that houses the Archive.”

“That’s bullshit,” Emilia says. Her vehemence and scowl have me pulling her closer.

I blink. “You want me to resign because of what an ancestor of mine did?”

Mr. Owens tips his chin up. “Our business partner won’t involve himself with organizations connected to you. Trusting his judgment, we’re following suit.”

“And who would your business partner be?” I ask, though I already have my suspicion.

That suspicion is proven correct in the next instant.

“I see my partners have started the fun without me.” Sigmund strolls into the room. His smile smug. “Hello, Adder.”

“Like a bad smell that won’t go away,” Emilia murmurs, too quiet for the Owens but not quiet enough.

Sigmund’s gaze goes to her, and he sneers. I squeeze my grip on her waist to communicate to her to be silent. We don’t want Sigmund Dietrich discovering our bond.

“If you think that the Council would really care if we lose patrons because of an in-species disagreement, you’re mistaken.” It’s a bluff. The Council will probably care, but delicate things must be handled one at a time. “We will, of course, miss your patronage, but we understand if your personal ethics mean you must pull your funding.”

“You have a week, Director Adder,” Mr. Owens says, but his voice wavers. “We hope you’ll make the best decision for the organization, but if you refuse to, we’re sure the Council will take the appropriate measures.”

Sigmund masks his anger well, but he’s not a patient creature. His glare moves from me to Emilia who tilts her chin up to him in open challenge. Something flickers through his expression that I’m familiar with and doesn’t bode well. It’s the look of someone tucking away their reactions until their target turns their back.

I grit my teeth. “I will take your words under advisement. Now I must request that you leave before I involve security.”

With an offended huff, the witches leave. Sigmund is the last to turn and his gaze warns me that we are not finished yet. Emilia moves toward the door they left open and closes it, being sure to lock it this time.

“I thought you were shy,” I say to try and break the tension in the room.

---