Page 57 of Hopelessly Teavoted
“Right. So, without any expectations, then, let me just put this out there. Anytime you want to call pretend, we can. Short of actually touching, we can pretend thingsaredifferent.”
She blushed. “You, too, Az. Anytime you want to call pretend.”
He thought about the soul binding. He was all in, as quick as that was, but it was too much pressure for her, especially now, when she’d only just agreed to be pretends-with-benefits.
Running his hand along the imprint of his wallet against his thigh, he thought of the note. The one he should have given her before they left for college. Before any of this madness. Before he became so heavy with grief that he feared his heart would weigh her down, just like her parents had. It was better to keep it to himself. The note, and any words that might come out if he opened his mouth, which was desperate to confess again.
No. He would leave it at the possibility of pretend. Pining silently was better, anyway. Now he could focus totally on whatever was going on in that megachurch and the slight panic of knowing that his dead parents had warned him of sinister activities. The creeping knowledge that the Brethren of One Love had something to do with whoever had broken into their home. He could ignore the obvious, soul-crushing fact that he couldn’t do more than pretend with Vickie unless she allowedhim to bind her life and soul to him permanently. That he had to pause any plans to woo her in earnest in pursuit of answers to his immediate suspicions. This kind of coincidence could not be ignored, especially not after Kyle George had warned Vickie. And Donovan Wagner had tried to warn them. Sure, Priscilla was a more powerful witch than he was, and Evelyn even more so. They were more than capable of fending off any threat, but it involved Vickie. He needed to help. Then there was the looming approach of October, which gave them only a little more than a month to figure it all out.
It was fine. He would just be sure to refill his Zoloft prescription on time. The last thing he wanted to do was lose track of managing his anxiety. He could find time to make peace with family tragedy, untangle his impossible attachment to the person he’d loved forever, solve a magical mystery, and write meaningful feedback on hundreds of diagnostic essays for junior English.
So, no pressure.
Beside him, Vickie squirmed in her seat, and he wondered if she was as inappropriately distracted as he was by just the idea of steering wheels near her now. She had to be. Azrael had felt her, not just in the way she had moved against his hand, in the brief, stolen seconds before calamity struck, but in the way that he had forgotten she made him feel when they touched years before.
It was, every time, once again, like the magic in him sang to her, and hers responded.
Now that he could no longer touch her, Azrael couldn’t tell her again that it still felt that way. He had to tell her. Was there a way to tell her and not tell her?
He wanted her to be able to choose. He knew few witches who did the soul seal, even among happily married couples. His parents had been two of them.
“I once asked my dad how he knew my mom was the one,” Az said, staring straight ahead at the road.
He could feel her eyes on him, but he didn’t dare look over. For safety, of course.
“What did he say?” Vickie’s voice was soft, and he could hear the click of a zipper sliding as she opened her bag. He forced himself not to look, but he smelled that berry-scented lotion that made her skin glisten. His senses were full of her. She brushed her hair, and he smelled lavender as it fell back around her shoulders in waves. He tore his eyes away and back to the road, swerving to avoid a pothole, and swore to himself that he wouldn’t steal any more glances to his right.
“He said that when he was with her, a sad world seemed brighter. That when he touched her hand, their magic knew, and even though he favored shadow craft and she plant witchery, the two different strains of enchantment warmed each other.”
“Their bodies knew,” whispered Vickie.
“He said their bodies sang to each other.” Az paused. “I was super embarrassed when he said that. It was right after we, you know.”
“Found their sex dungeon?”
Azrael frowned. Hehatedto refer to it that way.Dungeonhad such negative connotations. “You know I prefer to call it an extra basement bedroom.”
“Fine. Is the extra bedroom still around?” Vickie’s voice softened, and he snuck a look, eyes lingering longer than was safe on her parted lips. Az swallowed, remembering her voice in the dark all those years ago after, asking if he had ever thought about spanking anyone.
“No. Priscilla cleaned it out, thank goddess. We decided it would be a little too much to keep that particular memory of our parents around. It’s a home gym now.”
“You mean you work out where your parents… you know, worked out?”
Azrael smiled. Say what people might about Benedict and Persephone Hart, but they had never wasted a moment of their married years pretending they didn’t love each otherpassionately. There was something beautiful about that, as much as he also didn’t need to know the precise details of their sex life. “You know, I think if we wanted to avoid rooms where they… worked out, we might just have to burn the whole house down.”
“Yeah, that tracks,” Vickie said. “Happy for them, though.” He wondered ifsheever thought about the spanking conversation. If that was something that she wanted. But spanking generally led to touching, and touching was off the table. Though if he was honest, he could imagine any number of non-touching activities that could be exquisitely arousing. Especially in a sex dungeon. Forcing himself back to the conversation now, he went on. He would keep this casual. For now. They could have been knee deep in the passenger seat if things were different.
“I used to be embarrassed to know that about them. Not just the sex, but the depth of emotion. Witches have this rare ceremony called soul sealing. Most witches, even married ones, don’t do it. But my parents did, and it means their souls are together forever. By choice. I used to think that was so corny. But now that they’re gone, honestly, I’m just happy that they loved each other that much. That what time they had was completely honest, and that in the end, they were together.”
“Definitely,” said Vickie. She sounded quiet. Broken. “They never took each other for granted. That sounds like a sweet life. And it’s nice that they got to choose that.”
“It was,” Az said. Some of the guilt of not being here was gone now, he realized. Because of her. Vickie was the girl he used to know, but stronger. More capable.
A woman who had finally struck out on her own and left behind her cruel family and the weight of their emotional baggage.
“Vickie. I know I said I was sorry for, you know, the lies and misery–slash–unfortunate no-touching situation, but I should have also said thank you. I want to thank you for helping me say goodbye. That meant everything. I mean, I was trying to thank you that night.” He blushed. She was so put togethernow, working on her own business. He wanted her to know how grateful he was. Even if the possibility of a normal romantic relationship was over now, by necessity.
Shit. Az hoped she didn’t think he had almost finger-fucked her in the Packard as a thank-you. Or was it better if she did think of it like that? He dragged a hand down his face, lingering for a second on his fingers, which he swore still smelled ever so slightly of her. Obviously that was wishful thinking. It was just his memory, infused with magic and longing. He could almost taste the sweet salt slick of her. The thought tormented him.
