Page 6 of Crown Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #3)

Adeline

B ron must be concealing something.

It makes no sense that his House ring would slip off his finger while he was collecting eggs at a location hundreds of miles away and then somehow that same ring ends up beneath the Tree of Lost Things in place of the crown.

Apparently, he likes a challenge because he leans toward me, capturing my hand and closing the gap between us. “Maybe you’re the one with secrets.”

I wish I could summon my outrage and proclaim I have no secrets at all.

But until five years ago, I survived by keeping secrets. Playing my mother’s games, sacrificing whatever integrity I had, anything to keep innocent witches and warlocks alive.

I’m haunted by the nightmares of my past, clinging only to the now and the continued hope of a future where I can continue to walk a different path.

Bron presses my hand against his chest and now, the warmth of his skin and the calm rise and fall of his torso beneath my palm provide me with an unexpected comfort.

There’s something so solid about him. So steadfast that it’s reassuring in this moment.

“Maybe I am,” I whisper, reluctantly slipping my hand out from beneath his palm.

He lets me go, but his arms move at the edge of my vision, as if he’s about to reach out to me again before he lowers them.

I continue moving forward. “Let’s find you some fresh clothing.”

Ten minutes later, we reach the guest quarters where the queen and her mate stay on their rare visits.

One room past that are even more opulent quarters.

They’re set aside for Odin if he ever wishes to visit.

Apparently, when the Crone and the Mother were first negotiating the terms of their membership of the House of Spirit and Sapphire, this was one of Odin’s requirements.

I imagine it’s one way to make it clear he has the right to inspect the haven whenever he likes. Even though he rarely does.

He has other powerful witches and warlocks at his side and for the most part, it seems he doesn’t want to get involved in the Crone and the Mother’s stealthy maneuverings of people’s fates.

I lead Bron inside the room, conscious of the way he stops just inside the door while I head to the other side of the room and throw open the closet.

“Clothing,” I say, voicing the obvious as I gesture at the Odin-sized garments that should fit Bron.

He narrows his eyes. “Whose clothing is that?”

I can’t help but grin. “Don’t worry. Odin will never know.”

“Odin?” Bron curses quietly beneath his breath. “I don’t like the idea of getting on his bad side.”

I shrug. “Suit yourself. But I’m not sure how much longer my mending will hold.”

He started hitching his pants up again halfway here.

With a soft growl, he pulls off the tattered remains of his shirt and slings it across the back of a chair on his way to the closet.

My breath catches at the expanse of muscles extending across his broad back and the tattoo that stretches from his right shoulder blade and all the way down his arm.

Against my will, my pulse quickens and my focus slides toward the opulent bed so close by, but I catch myself.

What am I thinking?

Blinking rapidly, I force myself to focus on Bron’s disgruntled huffs.

He wrinkles his nose at the pair of long pants with jewel-encrusted pockets and the fur-adorned shirt he pulls from the closet, both of which are the least regally-adorned items in the bunch.

“If you don’t like them,” I say, taking mercy on him, “I can cast an illusion over them.”

He gives a gruff nod. “That would be good.”

Crossing the distance between us, I call a basic illusion spell to mind, wave my hand over the garments he’s holding, and whisper the incantation beneath my breath.

While I can bring some of my magic instantly to my hands without spells, like my frost and fire magic, illusion magic requires me to carefully weave the spell.

Now that I’m standing closer to Bron, every breath brings me his earthy scent, and it’s taking all of my focus to ignore the piercing look he gives me.

With the distraction of his nearness, I’m grateful the spell works as intended. The adornments disappear from the clothing, the pants transforming into a simple pair of black jeans while the shirt becomes a dark-grey T-shirt.

I take a step back. “More you?”

He presses his lips together, his brow pinching a little. “Perfect, actually.”

I’m not sure why he seems unsettled by this, but I hazard a guess. “I didn’t read your mind, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It isn’t, but good.” The crease remains in his forehead, the clothing draped across his arm. “You have multiple powers. That’s unusual.”

I stiffen before I force myself to relax. I’m not about to tell him how I got my powers. It’s one thing for memories to haunt me. It’s another to speak them aloud.

“Will those fit you?” I ask, trying to force the topic of conversation onto something else and not succeeding very well. If he didn’t think they’d fit, he wouldn’t have chosen them.

He gives me a crooked grin before he lumbers toward the bathroom. “Yeah.”

He stops at the door, no doubt taking in the wide window on the left side of the bathroom, which won’t afford much privacy but will provide an excellent escape route if he wants to slip away.

I’m surprised when he makes a point of asking, “If I close the door, will you worry I’ll disappear through the window?”

“You’re free to leave whenever you want.” I take another step back, giving him even more space. “Now that you have fresh clothing, you can exit with your dignity intact.” I tip my chin. “I’ll find the artifact on my own.”

His suddenly narrowed eyes tell me he treats my assertions with suspicion. “What happened to discovering my secrets?”

“Secrets can wait.”

Especially since he seemed interested in discovering my own.

He takes another glance at the bathroom.

My eyes widen when he says, “On second thought, I’ll change where you can see me. That way, you know I’m not going to abandon you.”

I prickle. As much as the Mother might be upset with me if I let him go, his promise triggers a vulnerability I’ve buried deep, and I can’t stop my retort. “It wouldn’t matter to me if you do.”

“Good.”

Huh?

With that, he whisks off his tattered pants right in front of me.

In that split second, I realize he must have taken my response as applying to him changing in front of me and not the abandonment I was actually referring to.

I spin to face the other direction but not before I catch sight of every hard line of his body, every impressive muscle and every inch of tan skin.

Oh . That’s a body I could spend days and nights in a bedroom with. Weeks. Months, even. Maybe I’d never emerge…

Biting my lip, I stare at the wall, trying to shake off my heated thoughts.

Thoughts that only grow more intense when I sense his quiet approach and his growly voice rumbles over me from a mere step behind me. “My bear wants me to tell you that you don’t have to worry.”

I try to find my voice. “About what?”

“That he’ll try to snuggle up to you again.”

“Oh.” I’m suddenly filled with disappointment. “Okay.”

“You said you need to get back to your queen as soon as you can. We’ll help you do that by helping you find the missing artifact as quickly as possible.”

My forehead creases. I take a chance, glancing back to find him fully clothed, at which I turn fully, a question on my lips that he seems to anticipate.

“We heard the worry in your voice when you spoke about your queen,” he says. “Is she okay?”

Blame it on how disarming he’s being, but I tell him the truth. “She’s due to give birth. I need to be there. I have to prove…”

All the fears I’ve been pushing away rise to swamp me, and I can’t voice them.

They’re illogical fears, but then, the worst fears are irrational.

My mother killed the previous queen and seized her throne. She tried to kill the queen’s baby too. With the birth of the next monarch, I need to prove, once and for all, that I am not my mother. I’ll devote my life to both my queen and her child if that’s what it takes.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to us,” Bron says. “My bear wants you to know…” He clears his throat. “ I want you to know we understand what it’s like to push away the darkness. We won’t scratch at the wounds.”

My eyes widen.

I have no idea what I should feel right now.

I barely know this shifter and yet in a few words, he’s offered me more acceptance than I would have ever expected.

“Thank you.” I take a shaky breath. “There are things I just can’t talk about.”

He nods. “That’s okay with us.” His forehead crinkles and he squints at me. “Do me a favor? If I accidentally poke a wound, tell me? I’ll back off.”

I allow myself to smile up at him. The smallest smile.

His hands twitch, nearly imperceptible, but he keeps his arms at his sides. Just as he promised.

I force my feet to move. “We should… uh…”

He nods. “We have an artifact to find.”