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“You don’t scare easily, Dom.” Belinda grinned. “She must be pretty special.”
“She is,” I mumbled. “And I can’t do anything about it.”
“Don’t fight it,” Belinda encouraged. “Lean into it. There’s only one pain as great as losing someone who you deeply love, and that’s the pain of never giving it a chance.”
Belinda’s sparkling blue eyes clouded over, and the cheery potions master seemed to dull a little bit, as if maybe, she knew more than she was letting on. As if maybe behind the joyful, happy face of Belinda, there were layers deeper than I could ever imagine.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” I said. “Trixie hates me.”
“So why do you want to hex the woman you think you might love?”
“I don’t love her,” I said. “Just to be clear. The witch and I are opposites in every way. I need a potion to get back at her for jinxing my penthouse.”
Belinda licked her lips. “You’re going to have to take a step back and explain, because I think I’m liking her sense of humor already, and I’m not sure she deserves one of my special tinctures for that.”
I cocked my head. “Are you siding with the enemy?”
“I can appreciate a good prank when it’s done well.” Belinda clapped her hands together. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have some fun.”
“You seem happy to be here.”
“Well, I didn’t know this was about love,” Belinda dragged out gleefully. “I’m always on hand to help out with a good fated mates gig. Not to mention, it’s a nice break from your constant requests to maim and mutilate your enemies.” Belinda winked at me. “So tell me, what does this mystery witch do for a living?”
Chapter 13
Trixie
It took four days from the deployment of my prank until I saw Dominic again.
The way he knocked on my door was starting to sound familiar, even though it’d only happened a few times. When I opened my door this time, I found Dom once again holding a cup of coffee.
“I was going to come looking for you,” I said, unable to resist the piping hot latte he proffered. “Kill anyone lately?”
Dominic squinted as if the question was a lot tougher than it needed to be.
“Jeez, it really shouldn’t take you that long to answer.” I took a sip of coffee, set it down next to the little fern that’d really flourished in the kitchen windowsill over the last few days. Then I crossed my arms protectively over my chest. “I’m obviously talking about the reporter that seems to have vanished. Where is he?”
“The reporter?” Dom eyed my coffee, like he was wondering why I wasn’t drinking it.
The real reason was that I wanted to keep both my hands free, folded over my chest, as a clear message to Dom that he wasn’t invited inside my apartment. I wasn’t ready to face him this morning up close and personal.
“Yes,” I said. “Briggs.”
“Oh, Briggs. He’s alive.”
“I notice you’re not even trying to pretend you weren’t involved in his disappearance,” I drawled. “You need to put him back.”
“Put him back?”
“You said he’s not dead, right? So put him back.”
“In good time.” Dom took a deep breath. “If that’s all, then have a good day.”
“Why did you come here this morning?” I blocked the door from shutting as he turned to leave. “You came here just to give me a coffee and see if I’m alive?”
“I did want to see you,” he admitted.
“Well, I’m not sure I want to see you. You kidnapped a reporter, Dom. That’s serious.”
