Page 21 of Lunar Diamonds (Celestial Magic #1)

RILEY

A fter multiple tests, we gleaned that Drake and I couldn’t be more than fifty meters apart.

Damn it hard. This would be a problem for the next ten years.

“At least you have enough distance to use the bathroom in peace,” Isaac said. “Imagine popping up at a seriously shitty moment.” He snorted.

I shuddered at the prospect of doing my business with Drake in the room. Talk about a romance-killer.

What the hell? Who said anything about romance? I meant, well, wanting to avoid appearing at such intimate moments. And now I couldn’t get it out of my head, mentally conjuring all manner of bathroom-related horrors.

Somewhere deep inside me, a mischievous Riley laughed. Mocking, taunting, being an arsehole as always.

But what if things did turn romantic with Drake? What if, after the dust settled, he was the guy from the bookshop dream?

Erm… No.

Done with testing the bond, Alice got back to showing us our rooms. Mine was in the middle of Drake’s and Isaac’s.

My brother bid me goodnight, Drake silently slipping into his room after Alice handed him something.

“Call us if you need anything, sir,” Alice said. “There’s a phone and an emergency button in there. We’ll have clothes here for you soon.”

She had the key to my flat and was heading out shortly to fetch my stuff.

What the hell was I going to tell my landlord?

Her face lit up as she smiled warmly, highlighting her Bramble freckles. “The diamonds will be here before you know it.”

“Fingers crossed,” I replied.

“No need for that, sir. I know it in here.” She touched her heart. “And I know Hecate blesses us. She guides our steps, pointing us toward victory.”

I loved the positivity. It certainly put a much-needed spring in my step.

“Goodnight, sir.” Alice left me to get acquainted with the room, heading off to clean the mess left by the shadow witches.

The arseholes had left so many muddy footprints and broken vases in their wake.

My room sported the same décor as the rest of the house, but with the addition of gold flower patterns on the walls. There was a TV, a sofa, a huge four-poster bed with gold sheets, two wardrobes, and a mini bar.

Nice.

I checked out the en suite bathroom, loving the rain shower and the drop-down bathtub. All very decadent and bigger than my flat.

There was also a balcony overlooking the sea and some of the gardens, thick drapes tied off on either side of the sliding door, heavy rain pattering the glass.

We were free to explore the mansion, no area was off limits.

There were four floors, the attic, and eighty rooms. I made a mental note to take a peek at some point.

In no mood to explore right now, I clicked on the TV for background noise and perched on the sofa. Thinking, thinking, thinking. This was the moment when things really began to press down on me, when anxiety wrapped its arms around me, crushing me in its horrible embrace.

Some reality show played on the screen. I curled up on the plush sofa, resting my head on one of the five soft cushions. Not tired, but kind of crumbling. This would take time to process, yes, but what about my life? What about my mum and stepdad? I wanted to call her now, but she’d be in bed at this hour.

I’m not who I think I am.

When would I get to see her? I should’ve put a stop to my flaky crap and gone a week ago. What I wouldn’t give to sit in her living room with a cup of tea and custard tarts, gossiping about the neighbors.

Mum always had the best gossip.

“She’s not your mum,” I said out loud, hiking my knees up.

Juliet Aurora was my mother, some mystery guy my father.

Yet again, I hoped this wasn’t real. That I’d wake up on my sofa, my head pounding from a hangover. Yeah, I’d been at home all this time, drinking away the nightmare at the library, stumbling into a different one. Any moment now, I’d wake up with crisp crumbs scattered over my PJs, and?—

“Stop being ridiculous,” I scolded myself, sitting up.

I had to get out of this room. The walls were too close, the heat of stress creeping up my neck.

Rolling off the sofa, I hurried for the door, anxiety a tangle of knots in my chest strangling the reason out of me.

I couldn’t be The Moon and save the world. Reality slapped me around, casting light on a violent truth.

My future would be full of fighting, of being a target, crushed under the pressure of saving so many lives.

Let the High Coven figure it out. They enjoyed control and dominance. I mean, they were a global force. What were we but three brothers on the south coast of England? Well, two at the moment.

The shades… I told myself. They can’t get rid of the shades…

That only applied more pressure.

I want to go home.

Tearing the door open, I dashed toward the stairwell, my heart in my stomach.

Home. Home. Home. The word pulsed like a mantra, spurring me onward. All I had to do was get outside, run down the long driveway, clear the fence, and get home. Leave this behind me. Reset. Get back to my true life.

I craved love and books and happiness, not violence and spells and?—

Pop!

I arrived in a bathroom identical to mine. Only, this one contained a naked Drake in the shower, his back to me.

Holy. Crap.

The glass didn’t steam up much, leaving the muscular planes of his back on show. Water sluiced down his incredible body, cascading over the perkiest arse in existence.

Wow. I really shouldn’t be staring, but…wow.

Before I peeled my eyes away, I paused on the black phoenix tattoo decorating his back. It was beautiful, the wings spread dramatically across his shoulder blades. Vibrant orange flames swirled around the creature, so vivid I thought I saw them moving. A fine adornment on his spectacular epidermis for sure.

Drake turned his head, pushing wet hair out of his face. “Riley?”

I squealed like a baby pig caught in a trap.

“I thought that was you.”

My face grew so hot it must resemble tomato juice. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I was…”

I broke down, the tears suddenly running wild. Aggressive sobs burst from my mouth, my chest on fire. All of me spiraling into a pit of sadness and confusion. I lost my balance, tumbling to the floor. My backside hit the tiles hard, pain shooting up my spine into my skull.

“Riley?” The water turned off.

I carried on crying, covering my face, wishing for the floor to swallow me up. What the hell did I look like? I tried getting myself together, but that only made me weep harder.

I can’t be strong.

I can’t be together.

“What’s wrong?” Drake said.

I sensed him inching closer, heard his bare feet on the floor. I was too mortified to look, but I knew he crouched beside me, dangerously close.

His scent tickled my nostrils, a thick bouquet of mint breaking through my sorrow.

I sniffled, keeping my face covered. “Sorry.”

“Did my ass upset you?”

I giggled, the sorrow lifting a little more. “No…” He sounded like the other Drake—the winking guy with the killer smile.

“Good. Want to talk?”

I sniffled again. “I should be mad at you.”

“Then be mad at me.”

My hands remained glued to my face. “What’s the point? It doesn’t change a thing. We’re bonded, I’m The Moon, and a hot mess. Damn.”

“You’re not a mess.”

I wanted to ask if that meant I was hot, but that would only embarrass me more. “Thanks.”

“I am sorry, Riley. Desperation got the better of me.”

My fingers twitched. “I need to get off this floor.”

“You can look at me,” he said so softly my toes tingled. “Don’t worry, I’m wearing a towel.”

What a shame.

I dropped my hands, meeting those twin pools of darkness and a sympathetic expression. His eyelashes really were a work of art, along with his wet hair, jawline, and muscles. A swimmer’s build, I think they called it.

He crouched before me, a white towel the only barrier between us.

“You can hate me all you need to,” he said. “Forever, if you like.”

Tempting, but what was the point of hate? I’d already poisoned myself with self-hate, forever scaring my spirits with my eating disorder. Why let more hate in? It wouldn’t do me any good.

I spoke from the context of my well-being, of course. Everyone else was free to feel however they wanted. But I’d seen the power of hating someone else, how it twisted my mum. Despite moving on with my stepdad, she held onto her rage over my dad’s betrayal. I couldn’t blame her. Who was I to say anything? Maybe if something like that happened to me, I’d flip the hate switch.

Sometimes I really needed to shut the hell up and drop my peace-and-love sensibilities. They enraged Mum whenever she was in one of her moods, putting me on the receiving end of her vicious tongue many times. She told me I had a misguided view of things, especially after what I’d been through. A little too positive for my own good, apparently. Where was the jaded attitude, the rage?

“Stop living in the fucking clouds!” she’d often cried.

Not fair. Yeah, I liked it on the sunnier side of the tracks, but that didn’t mean I was averse to the ignorant of reality. At least, I hoped so. And what was so wrong with being in the clouds? I liked it up there, dreaming of love, aiming for the sweet spot of happiness.

Wasn’t that better than letting my demons beat me?

She’s not your mum…

Would she have ever told me I was adopted? Did she know about my heritage?

“I don’t want to hate you, Drake.” I slid back across the tiles a bit.

He cracked his knuckles. “I’d like to make it up to you.”

“How?”

“By listening, for a start. If you want to talk.”

Wow, the sweetness of it.

You are unjustly handsome, Mr. Parish.

I sniffled again, cooling down. “Okay. Anything to get out of this bathroom.”

A flicker of a smile crept to his lips, making my toes curl. I started to notice the hurt beneath his beauty, cracks in his veneer. I wanted to know more, to peel back the layers one by one.

“Meet me in the bedroom?” he said, nodding at the bathroom door.

My dirty mind fired off a couple of cheeky responses. At least they were better than anguish.

“Okay.” I got to my feet, head dipped. “See you in a minute.”

I scurried out of there, swaddled in humiliation and horniness.

My goodness, that body.

Drake sat on the bed, leaning back to rest on his palms. I occupied the sofa, facing him. He wore his same clothes, the plum shirt open halfway.

Rather than drool, I explained my attempt to run away. I felt ashamed, like I was a total fool.

“Understandable,” he said at the end of my spiel.

I crossed my legs. “Moment of panic. I’m not going anywhere, really. I know I have to face this, but it’s hard.” I sighed. “Ugh. This complaining. Poor me. Blah, blah, blah.” I gave my best eyeroll.

“This isn’t exactly a small revelation,” he responded.

I licked my bottom lip, the poor thing tender from all the chewing. “The worst part is being adopted. Not that being adopted is a bad thing, just a shock. You know?”

Drake nodded. “I’m sorry. That must be so hard.”

I blew out a long breath. “I’m talking too much.”

“Talk away.”

My tongue certainly loosened around him. “I get that she couldn’t tell me about myself—if she knows about the Aurora stuff. But being adopted? Why not tell me? Why hide it? Crap. I’m whining. I just…” I exhaled sharply. “Enough of this. There are worse things in the world. I’ll have this conversation with Isaac later. He’ll be going through the same thing.”

“I’m adopted, too.”

Oh. Unexpected. “You are?”

He sat forward. “I lost my parents when I was five. Twenty-three years ago.”

Guilt stabbed at my guts. “I’m so sorry.” Why did I have to whine so much about myself?

A flicker of sadness in his eyes. “Let’s not talk about that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m here to listen to you.”

The urge to hug him came upon me. “Thanks. But I’m done. You can talk, if you want.”

He straightened his spine, his eyes on the carpet. “I’m so grateful for this. I really didn’t think I’d be free of Rhianna.” His shoulders sagged. “Thank you. Thank you so, so much. You’ve saved my life.”

I scratched at my chin, sadness like a separate aura in the shape of a dark cloud. His words smothered painful truths, hiding them from the world. I wouldn’t pry, but I wanted him to know he had a friend in me. And I didn’t care that this was all moving so fast, that I seemed to be over everything already.

I just couldn’t be mad at him. Bonded to a shadow witch? Awful. So damn awful. If I were in the same situation, Hecate only knew how I’d react.

My mum would shame me for being a pushover.

“I’m here to listen,” I said. “If you need me to.”

He lifted his head, those eyes so rich and full of mystery. “Thank you.”

I nodded, giving him a smile.

He didn’t return it, dropping his eyes again. “I made a mistake.”

Jealousy spiked again. “With Rhianna?”

“Yes. I shouldn’t have given in to my impulses. I’ve lived too long to make those sorts of fuck ups.” He shook his head.

I shuffled in my seat, unsure of what to say.

Drake stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “How about a walk? To explore the mansion a bit?”

“Sounds good.” I stared at him, my curiosity higher than ever.

He pulled a black cylinder from his pocket. Popping the lid, he took two deep sniffs.

“Ginkgo powder?” I asked.

“Yes.” He closed the lid and returned it to his pocket.

Most people took ginkgo powder to alleviate mental struggles, their way of getting through the days. It’d been offered to me by my doctor during the early stages of my treatment, but I couldn’t tolerate the sharp, burning scent.

“Ready?” he asked.

The time for talking was done. A walk would be nice.

He sniffed his shirt. “Doesn’t smell great.”

I can only smell mint. “What about fresh clothes?” His stuff would be at the Kingwood’s hideout, right?

“Alice is getting me some stuff,” he answered. “I’ll have to hit the shops at some point.” He eyed my sequin dolphin. “That’s such a cute top.”

“Oh. Thanks. Doesn’t smell great either.” Neither did the rest of me.

But rather than shower, I went exploring with Mr. Yummy.

Aurora Mansion blew my mind. It featured all sorts—a library, a gym, a recreation room, a ballroom, even a grand dining room. There was a huge basement level with an underground carpark, wine cellar, a second spell room, and a garage full of vehicles. There was even an underground river with a boat connecting to the sea via a series of canal-style locks.

The celestial room sat in the west wing, on the first floor, behind a titanium door, sealed by three bolts—one gold, one silver, the other a pearly white.

I pressed my hand to it, the hairs on my arms lifting as if under static electricity. “What a shame we can’t pick the lock.”

Drake said nothing, standing quietly off the side.

Power beyond comprehension. Ancestral power. Mine.

I dropped my hand, wondering if those bolts would ever slide open. If this wasn’t some futile?—

Enough negativity!

“Let’s go,” I told Drake, hurrying away from the door.

As we checked out a glass conservatory on the northern corner of the mansion, an idea hit me. “Cookies.”

“Sorry?”

“For Erin. To cheer her up.”

He cocked his head. “You want to bake her cookies?”

“Do you think she’d like them?”

“I don’t know.”

If she didn’t, I’d go back to the drawing board. I just wanted to do something to let her know her years of serving this house hadn’t gone unnoticed. And certainly wouldn’t, moving forward.

“Follow me,” I said.