Page 13 of Magic & Matchmaking (Moonflower Witches)

Chapter Twelve

RIVEN

T he tavern erupted in cheers as I played my final song of the night.

“Alright, now get out!” Draven yelled to everyone as he wiped down the counter.

The tavern began emptying, my lute case brimming with gold coins.

I waited until the last patron left, then approached the bar. “You really know how to make your patrons feel special.” I took a seat on one of the stools.

He paused, lifting a brow. “When I said ‘get out,’ that included you. We stayed open far later than I wanted to thanks to encore after encore from you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, reaching over the bar and grabbing an empty tankard, then clinking it down.

Draven sighed. “Fine.” He pointed his wand at the barrel behind him, then said a spell. The ale lifted in a perfect ball that floated over my tankard and dropped into it with a splat. The amber liquid sloshed out out the side, down onto the bar top Draven had just cleaned.

He whipped the rag over his shoulder. “You’re cleaning that.”

“Why don’t you just spell your rag to do it?” I asked, thinking of all the clever cleaning spells Emma used at Steeped in Love. “Save yourself the trouble.”

He certainly had enough money to buy any spelled object he wished to.

Draven grunted, which I assumed was as much of an answer as I would get.

Some magicks thought spells had gone too far these days, magic doing everyday tasks that they believed they could do themselves.

It was more of the older magicks against all these newfound spells.

Many of them argued it was leading to laziness and complacency in our society.

It felt like everyday I passed merchants on the road with new spelled items that could do amazing things: brooms that could sweep for you, rags that could clean every surface, firewood that would always burn.

But there were downsides. I once saw a broom that wouldn’t stop smacking its owner.

He ended up having to chop it into pieces, and even then, the pieces chased after the poor guy.

In the end, he burned the broom, and that finally put the magic to rest.

“Why are you here with me instead of with Emma?” Draven asked. “Isn’t she your girlfriend now?”

My shoulders slumped at the mention of Emma. “And here I was thinking you weren’t a gossip.”

“I’m not.” Draven shot me a glare. “It’s not my fault every person in this damned town is talking about the famous Riven Shiu finally being tied down.”

After that amazing kiss last night, I wanted to see Emma again, but I needed a day to think about what I would say.

That kiss, her soft, curvy body under mine as I pinned her to the table.

.. my cock had ached all day just thinking about it.

I’d spent last night after that kiss in my room at the inn, pumping myself while imagining all the things I’d wanted to do to her on that table.

Then I’d finished and came up with about a million reasons why none of those things could ever happen.

“You stay past closing, make me pour you ale, and now you’re not even drinking it.” Draven leaned his elbows on the bar top. “Are you trying to get me to ask you what’s wrong?”

I rubbed my jaw.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong with you? ”

“I kissed Emma yesterday,” I said.

“So? Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

I took a long drink of the ale. “You know, the more time I spend with you, the more I’m convinced you are a grumpy old man in the body of a thirty-five-year-old.”

Draven just cocked his head, not looking amused by my assessment.

“Okay,” I said. “Don’t tell anyone this.” I paused. Draven was probably the one person I could confide in. It wasn’t that he didn’t gossip. He didn’t hardly talk. Period. To anyone.

Draven just stared at me, jaw locked as he waited.

“We’re not in a real relationship. We’re faking it.”

“Who does that?” Draven asked. “And why?”

“It doesn’t matter. The point is that the kiss wasn’t real.” I shook my head. “Well, it was real, but she thinks it was fake. Part of the show we’re putting on.”

Draven rubbed his temples. “ I have a lot of questions, but I’m not going to ask any of them.”

“Fair enough.” I took another long drink. “But the things I felt during that kiss... I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I want to tell her how I feel, but I also don’t know how a relationship between us is possible. Not unless one of us gives up our life for the other person.”

“And that would lead to resentment,” Draven added.

“Exactly.”

Draven sighed heavily. “If I give you my opinion, will you finally leave?”

“Sure?” I shifted the lute strap on my shoulder.

“Tell her how you feel, for fuck’s sake.”

I waited, and when he didn’t say anything else, I gestured for him to continue. “That’s it?” I asked. “That’s your amazing advice? You don’t think I already thought of that?”

Draven sighed again. “She’s an adult, Riven. She deserves a chance to choose her own life. To choose what she wants for herself. You not telling her means you’re making that choice for her.”

I’d never thought of it like that. I’d always thought giving her the choice was the unfair thing to do. The selfish thing to do. But maybe withholding my feelings was the selfish part of all this.

I stood abruptly, knocking my stool back. “I have to go.”

“Thank the Witch Superior,” Draven muttered as I turned and ran out of his tavern.