Page 70 of Forced Knocked-Up Mate

It smells like him. It’s almost like he’s still here.

Burying my nose deep in the soft folds, I take a deep breath. With my eyes closed, I can almost forget everything that happened today, imagining myself back where I was a week ago, when I still had him in my arms.

“Hey, save some for me,” Amanda says, coming into the living room. “You weren’t planning to finish off that bottle all by yourself, surely?”

“I don’t know,” I answer. “It’s going down pretty easy.”

“I should be making winter brew,” she says, pouring a glass for herself as she sits down. “Remember how we used to make it for the winter festival?”

“Oh, God, Amanda,” I laugh. “I was, like, sixteen then!”

“Yeah, I know,” she answers, laughing, too. “But you do remember?”

“Yes,” I say softly, closing my eyes to savor the memories properly. “Dancing naked under the moon, with a big cauldron of sweet, warm orange brew, full of raw honey.”

“Those were the days,” she says. “There’s nothing like that going on in Silver Meadows now?”

“No,” I say regretfully, finishing my drink. “I’m not even sure there are other witches here.”

“Oh, there are,” she replies. “I can feel them. Just a hint of power, here and there. You should bring them together in a coven.”

“Yeah, thanks for the idea,” I say a bit sarcastically. “But it’s obvious I can’t even keepmyshit together, let alone anyone else’s.”

“Not what I was suggesting,” she says, rubbing my shoulder. “Just that it might be nice for you to have sisters to lean on.”

“I have friends,” I say stubbornly.

“Yes, you do. But are they witches?”

“No. Wolves, mostly. Well… there’s one girl who might be a witch.”

“Witches and wolves do well together,” Amanda says, gently stroking my hair. “But sometimes you just need your own kind to understand you. Nothing else will do.”

“Then I’m glad you’re here,” I say, hugging her. “I couldn’t be alone right now.”

“Tell me what happened,” she urges me. “From the beginning.”

I pour myself another drink as I let the events flash by in my mind. Every image is painful, but a good dose of tequilalets me examine my feelings without crumbling into a sobbing wreck.

I begin when Fiona left, and how much it affected me to suddenly be alone. Reluctantly, I admit my envy of her to Amanda, and my selfish request for the universe to bring me “a man like Rider.”

“Oh, dear,” Amanda chuckles. “That’s why you thought the spell went wrong? Because you made a specific request?”

“Yeah,” I say, frowning. “Isn’t that what happened?”

She shakes her head. “That sentence could have been interpreted any number of ways. The spell worked, and it brought your true love to you.”

“So why did he just run away?” I grab her hand. “How can he leave me like this, after all we’ve shared?”

Amanda hugs me, rocking me and stroking my hair. “Shh, sweet girl. It will be alright, I promise you.”

“You don’t know that,” I murmur, clinging to her.

She comforts me for a while, letting me cry. Afterwards, we drink some more, and she distracts me by talking about our old times together and the new things going on with the coven up north. Eventually, as I curl up on the couch, my eyelids getting heavy, I drop off to sleep.

When I wake, Amanda is gone, with a note left on the coffee table.

Sorry I had to leave, Lucy. Something came up, and it can’t wait. Let me know how you’re doing, and I’ll come back soon and visit! All my love, Amanda.

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