Page 62 of Shadows of the Soul

“I haven’t fallen—truly fallen—for someone before you. Shifters are naturally jealous and fiercely protective of their mates.” I stayed silent as he sighed. “There’s never been a more politically volatile time for supernaturals. Your grandmother’s meddling in our lives has backfired. Leon believes you are influencing me–”

“I would never,” I whispered.

He glanced at me. “I know, not intentionally. But, it doesn’t mean you aren’t. I can’t afford this complication right now, not when the shifters are depending on me to make the correct choices for them. Tonight was one vampire touching you. Tomorrow it could be another shifter who tries their luck. I would tear off their head and the pack would turn on us. I need to navigate these coming months with a clear mind.”

I wasn’t worth it. That’s what he was saying. I wasn’t worth the emotional baggage or the potential political carnage. “Don’t do this,” I whispered.

“It’s not like I have a choice, Cora. Perhaps in a few months when the dust has settled from the treaty, when your grandmother has shown her true colors, and people see I’m not swayed by her beautiful granddaughter, that the decisions I make are for the good of the pack, not the combined interests of the elementals–”

“If you end this, there’s no going back,” I interrupted. “I won’t sit around waiting for you to realize you made a mistake.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

I turned my stare to outside the window, watching the trees shrouded in darkness zip past as I hid the tear that slid down my cheek. He’d broken a little piece of my heart, a piece I would never get back. The car turned into my drive and the gravel crunched under the tires.

I grabbed the handle before he’d even stopped the car and threw open the door.

“Cora,” he rasped.

I glanced back and leaned into the car. “For what it’s worth, you are exceptional,” I uttered. I sounded broken, but it couldn’t be helped. “But you failed to realize that in return, so am I.”

I slammed the car door and ran up the steps before darting into the house and dashing up the stairs to my room.

“Miss Roberts,” Harry exclaimed as I fell onto the sofa. “What has happened?”

The flood gates opened, and I cried into the arms of a ghost, because the dead could hold my secrets, even the ones that shattered my heart.

Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty Two

Is there anything a lemon cookie can’t fix?

The sun rose with the never-ending optimism of ‘tomorrow is another day’. Except I didn’t want optimism. I wanted thunder, doom, and misery. Maybe I should move somewhere miserable to match my mood. Regardless of the weather’s mood or mine, I had work to do. There was the matter of the roses, fed from blood magic, clearly being channeled by the blinding voodoo priest. I had Lucifer on my tail … I cringed—not tail—no furries allowed. I had an aunt that disappeared on a mysterious mission that she lied about, as well as an encroaching grandmother who felt it was her duty to dictate my life. The wildies, while a pack problem, were linked to me in some manner. Then finally, the enormous issue that I faced alone, the glowing ball of energy that was consuming my personal space.

I threw back the covers and stretched my legs before swinging them onto the floor. That was a long list of problems, and none of them were being fixed while I laid in bed feeling sorry for myself. Teeth brushed, hair tied up, and fresh clothes, I felt like a new woman.Bing bong.An enthusiastic buzzer sounded in my head. Fine. I feel like a fucking mess, but fake it until you make it, right?

I swung open my bedroom door and frowned at the ball of sizzling white energy. “You will have to wait. I’m working my way up to multidimensional issues. First, I need to take out the trash.”

As I made it to the floor below mine, Rebecca’s door swung open. She eyeballed me with a frown and fell into step beside me.

“I thought I heard you up there,” she said as we trotted down the steps. We were dressed like chalk and cheese. Me in jean shorts and a Guns n’ Roses band tee, her in a sweeping summer floral gown that complimented her ethereal look.

“Yup, that was me,” I stated, as we rounded the parlor and made our way to the kitchen.

“How did it go last night?” she asked.

I threw open the refrigerator door and grabbed some fruit and yogurt. Healthy body, healthy mind, and all that.

“Last night?”

“Yes, Cora, the ball. You and Hudson.”

She folded her arms and gave me a ‘spill the beans or be tortured’ look.

I grabbed a knife and aggressively chopped the fruit, like it had played a part in my car crash of a love life. “Oh that. We talked, we danced, then he dumped me.”

“Excuse me?”

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