Page 5 of Magic & Mochas (Tales of Love & Lore #1)
Ice flooded through my veins, and my smile died a quick and painful death. I slowly turned to face the front door, and mentally kicked myself for not locking it behind me. I hadn’t thought I’d need to here.
Leaning against the doorframe stood the absolute last person I wanted to see right now.
The morning sun gilded the edges of his ginger hair but cast his icy blue eyes in shadow.
Instead of his usual hoodie and jeans, today he wore a tailored tunic and trousers, with his grimoire attached to his leather belt.
A smile curved his generous lips, but it didn’t quite reach his cold eyes.
Schooling my face into a mask of cool indifference, I asked, “What are you doing in Willowmere, Rasmus? I was under the impression this place was far too much of a backwoods town for such an exalted potions master like yourself?”
“I came to get you, of course. You ran off before I had a chance to explain things.” His voice took on that condescending tone I hated.
“Things seemed quite self-explanatory to me.” The memory was seared into my mind.
“Nyssa was only helping me with—”
“I have absolutely no desire to learn what she was helping you with,” I cut him off coldly. “I have a lot of work to get done, and no time to chat. There’s the door; I trust you can see yourself out.”
“I did hear a ridiculous rumor that you’d purchased this rickety old tear-down.” Rasmus’ lip curled as he glanced around at my pride and joy. How I had ever fantasized about kissing those lips now baffled me.
“Word travels fast,” I muttered. It had only been, what? An hour? Two?
“I’m sure there’s some loophole where you can get a full refund if you tell that centaur you’ve changed your mind. We can still put a down payment on that apartment you liked so much.” He took a few steps towards me.
I resisted the urge to take a few steps back. “Too little, too late. I’m no longer even remotely interested in cohabitating with you.”
“Don’t be like that, Clover,” he crooned, using his pet nickname for me. “If you’re really that set on running your little business here, we can make it work. I’ll even help you create an inspired new drink menu.”
I gritted my teeth. “Don’t call me that.” He always did this; changing strategies until he got what he wanted, and eventually convincing me to do what he wanted instead of what I wanted. “And I don’t need anyone’s help to come up with the menu.”
He raised his eyebrows, lifting his hands in a fake gesture of acceptance. “Alright, if that’s what you want. But are you really sure you don’t want the help of a real potions master?” His tone dripped with fake honey.
“I don’t need to be a potions master to make a decent cup of coffee.” Were we really having this argument again?!
“Those machines the humans invented are cute and all, but they’re no replacement for a real warlock’s brew.” He advanced another step, until only a handful of feet separated us.
“At least my espresso machine won’t betray me.” My voice wobbled, despite my best efforts to keep it steady. If only Silas were here; he would have chased him off with one swipe of his needle-sharp claws.
“A little commitment issue doesn’t have to be the end of the world. Of us.” Rasmus stepped right up into my personal space and reached out a hand as if to touch my face.
I slapped it away. “The only commitment I want now is to creating the perfect latte foam.”
Rasmus’ calm demeanor cracked. “What do you want, Clover? An apology? Some money? If that’s what this is about—”
“I don’t want your father’s money, Rasmus. I want you out of my building, and out of my life.” I glared at him, refusing to back down and let him walk all over me again.
A vein throbbed in his forehead, and wisps of flames flickered to life in his hair, like it always did whenever he was angry. “Is there someone else? Is that what this is about?”
“So what if there is?” I said impulsively. And then I panicked when Rasmus’ expression darkened.
This was going to be a very short-lived, very painful lie. My magic skills were impressive, but even I couldn’t conjure a boyfriend out of thin air.
“Anyone I know?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice, the one he always got right before he did something he shouldn’t.
“I—” I started, my voice failing me. What should I do? Should I just admit that I was lying? But then I would never hear the end of it!
The shadows shivered a moment before I heard footsteps on the stairs behind me. “About earlier, I wanted to—” The shadowmancer drew up short when he saw Rasmus, his violet eyes flicking between us and narrowing.
At least he was fully dressed this time. He wore an ocean blue, collared shirt with buttons that ran down the front, with a pair of black pants and shoes that only added to the impression that he was a part of the shadows that seemed to constantly waft from his tanned skin.
With lethal grace, he stepped up beside me. “Am I interrupting something?”
Before I even knew what I was doing, I wrapped my arm around the shadowmancer’s and blurted out, “This is my new boyfriend.”
Whose name I didn't even know. To his credit, the man hardly even blinked at my sudden clinginess and declaration.
Rasmus looked shocked for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “What is he, an actor? There’s no way you of all people could—”
“The name’s Thorne.” The shadowmancer seemed to be taking this ridiculous situation in stride, and even held out his hand to Rasmus.
So his name was Thorne. That seemed oddly fitting for the shadowmancer.
Rasmus looked at his scarred and callused hand like it might bite him. “Rasmus.” He hesitantly shook hands with the shadowmancer, and I could tell from his grimace that the man had a brutal grip.
I tried not to smile.
The shadowmancer was cool, calm, and convincing—and more than a little intimidating when he was glowering. At least this time, that glower wasn’t directed at me. Rasmus sized him up, and seemed nervous at what he saw.
“Now, Rasmus, my lovely girlfriend and I were just about to start scrubbing the floor. Lots of old food and whatnot that needs to be chipped off. Care to lend us a hand?” Somehow, he even managed to make his smile look threatening.
“M-Maybe another time. I have…another appointment,” Ramsus stammered quickly. Glancing at me, he added, “I’ll be in town for a while—I’ll make sure to stop by some other time to continue our… discussion.”
And with that, Rasmus scurried out of the shop.
I breathed a sigh of relief, some of the pent-up tension finally leaving my shoulders. Which was when I became acutely aware that I was still holding onto Thorne’s very solid bicep, and that there was an inscrutable expression in his violet eyes as he peered down at me.