Page 34 of A Taste of Bliss

I follow Simon back to the table, grinning. I take in his familiar features, the thick mop of wavy black hair, his wide boyish brown eyes and easy smile. He gets his coloring from his mother’s side of his family, but he and I share the same nose. He’s been gone visiting his grandmother in Seoul for a couple weeks and then stopped by to visit his dad’s side—my side—of the family on the way home. I’ve missed him.

“So warlocks?” Simon prompts. I fill him in on the details, how the fae council have put out an advisory about warlocks in particular. Witnesses report multiple instances of warlocks seemingly going crazy and attacking other fae and humans, kindreds especially. “You need to be careful, and don’t go wandering off by yourself too long during the festival,” I tell him seriously. My cousin recently got his kindred rune, but I don’tthink I’ll ever stop being overprotective of him. I brought him into the whole mess; the least I can do is keep him safe.

“Well, as my sponsor, I guess Evan will have to keep me company,” Simon responds, grinning.

Evan groans. “You’d be much better off with Shaun in the event of a warlock attack.”

“Fine by me.” Simon’s grin grows even wider.

I quirk a brow at him. I’m pretty sure my cousin has a small thing for Shaun, but other times I’m not sure if he’s just joking to annoy the wolf shifter. Maybe it’s both.

I notice Evan grin out of the corner of my eye.

“Okay, so stay away from warlocks. Got it. What is all this?” Simon asks, picking up a few books and reading the titles.

“Evan’s going to attempt to make the potion for the sardines game,” I tease.

“Why do I remember something about that not going so well last time?” Simon muses.

Evan bares his teeth, a growl emanating from deep in his throat. “It didn’t go that badly.”

“You set the kitchen on fire,” I remind him.

“Hardly. Besides, this is a much easier potion.” He flips the page of his book over so quickly I expect it to tear right out of the book. “Oh!”

Simon and I crane our necks to look at what he’s reading.

“I think this is it. It’s got a lot of ingredients, though. And—” he groans, “—it then needs to be amplified by earth magic.”

“Well, you can do that, can’t you?” Simon asks.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty shit at the other elements,” Evan says. “I’ve gotten down the skill to clean blood and dirt out of things pretty easily, and I finally used my earth magic offensively when we caught Austin, but this earth spell isn’t something I’m familiar with.”

“Know any earth elementals or earth nymphs?” I ask.

“Some,” he responds, but it’s pretty clear his thoughts are focused on the potion and spell.

I nod towards the hallway and Simon follows me out. “Figure he needs to concentrate,” I tell him, and Simon hums in agreement.

We walk along the hallway and find ourselves inside the nave, the part of the church mass would be held in, if this were still an actual Catholic church. I walk down one of the aisles, along a pew, and take a seat. Simon slides along it and lies down flat on his back, head near me, eyes looking up at me.

“The family really misses you,” he says softly, watching my reaction closely.

I look down at him and then up towards the altar, at the cross still hanging on the wall, in the center. I swallow thickly. My gaze travels up to the ceiling, as if I can see the stars through it.

“It’s better this way,” is all I say.

Simon doesn’t respond. I think he disagrees with me, but I know my decision to stay away keeps them all safer. And not just because of my siren teeth. I’m walking a thin line, and I can’t allow anyone else I love to get involved. It’s already bad enough Simon was pulled into this, but no matter how many times I urged him to stay away, he didn’t. And part of me is so grateful for that, because I don’t know what I’d do without him. The other part of me recognizes what a selfish prick I am.

He sits upright, resting his elbows on his knees. “I also got some bad news on the way back here,” he says after the silence has stretched on for quite a while.

I glance at him, startled. “Is it?—?”

“Nothing about our family, no,” he rushes to assure me. “Presley—he got injured, falling off a ladder.”

“What? Is he okay?” I pull out my phone, not finding any messages or calls from our band manager.

“He’ll be okay. I told him I’d take care of letting you all know. But he’s gonna be out of commission for a while. Brokea lotof bones. He’s gonna have to skip the Alchemy Festival.”