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Chapter Twelve

M arric’s meltdown in the kitchen made him feel a little self-conscious, especially since he and Iven were alone in the car together.

No one else was there as a buffer. Iven hadn’t brought it up yet, but it still felt like the elephant in the backseat.

And that made Marric’s stomach clench a little.

“Thank you for offering to help me.” Iven smiled. It was just a small upturn of the lips, but it was enough of a reassurance to relax Marric a bit.

“Investigating is a part of my job. Usually, Cass is my partner, but a change of pace seems kinda nice.” Iven had a nice smile. It softened his expression. Iven gave Marric the side-eye, and when Marric blushed, Iven’s smile widened.

“I would think there’d be a lot of domestic violence cases and wolf-shifter fighting, but not much else.”

“We’ve had our fair share of crime lately.” Iven’s deep voice made Marric think about his mouth and where he could put it . Marric focused on Iven’s lips way too long.

Iven gave him a knowing look, as if he could read Marric’s mind.

“So you’re a warlock?”

Iven took a hand off the wheel and rubbed his fingers together.

A tiny flame appeared at the tip of his finger.

Iven blew on it, which made Marric panic for about two seconds until the flame transformed into a delicate butterfly.

Iven rolled down Marric’s window with the button on the door and released the butterfly.

“That’s a neat little trick, Sheriff.” Inside, Marric’s stomach flipped again, but for a completely different reason. It was as if the butterflies had multiplied and taken up residence in his stomach, fluttering around with anticipation.

What he was expecting, he wasn’t sure. But if a guy like Iven, who had seen a lot of bad shit as a sheriff, especially since he was so much older than Marric, could make a butterfly from flame, then he had done it to impress Marric.

Iven smiled again. And this time, there was no hidden intent. “So, what do you do when you’re not a burglar, Marric?”

Marric chuckled. “My family farms five hundred acres, and I’m the heir apparent to the Timeston pack throne. Which, for the record, I do not want. But I enjoy farming.”

Iven raised his eyebrows. “The Timeston pack throne? I didn’t know that’s how packs did it.”

“If it was up to my father, no one outside the Ransome family would ever be Alpha.” But Marric had better things to talk about besides his issues with his father. “So… where are we going, anyway?”

“To the college. The archival department has volumes of rare texts. We may find something about your curse in one of them.” Iven’s idea to start at the archival department was a good one.

Marric hadn’t thought of it, but he should have.

It was better than breaking into every witch’s house he knew, trying to find a book they may or may not have. “So tell me more about your farm.”

Marric launched into details about cornfields and horses. He wondered if his farm stories bored Iven, but Iven engaged in the conversation, asking questions. The conversation lasted until they parked in the lot at Dinsmore College.

The conversation wound down and Iven began his interrogation.

Marric knew it would happen at some point, so he didn’t fight it. Any information he gave would only help with the investigation.

Iven pocketed the keys before taking off his seatbelt and turning in the seat to face Marric. “How long have you been experiencing the illness?”

“About four months.” Marric bit his lip, debating for a second if he should say something about Emery being even sicker. He found himself spilling everything. Well, almost everything. “My sister started getting sick a couple of months before.”

“Did anything happen around that time? Anything weird or unusual?” Iven lifted his eyebrows as if he expected Marric to confess to something and he wasn’t far off the mark.

But if he told anyone about Regan, then the authorities might get involved and give him back to the people who hurt him.

The only way to keep him safe was to keep him hidden.

Regan had been through something traumatic.

They were just learning what that was and piecing together what might have happened to him.

Marric might not know the extent of Regan’s trauma yet, but he couldn’t trust anyone, not even his mate, until he found out.

But one thing he knew was Regan’s sudden appearance and the timing of the sickness was too much of a coincidence.

He’d hesitated too long for Iven not to know something had happened. Marric wouldn’t lie, but he wouldn’t tell Iven everything either. “A dark witch stumbled onto the farm.”

“Tell me about that.” Iven was very good at his job.

“It was late in the evening. Eleven o’clock or so. Dad and I were sitting on the front porch talking.” They’d been arguing, but it hardly mattered about what. “I found the witch in our barn bloody and beaten.”

Iven narrowed his eyes. “What happened to the witch?”

“They’ve recovered.” Marric smirked.

“Did you report it?”

“To sheriff Mattson? Not hardly.” Timeston’s sheriff was useless.

They both knew he wouldn’t elaborate any further.

“I’ll want to talk to this witch. Soon.” Iven raised his eyebrows. It was clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “For now, let’s go.”

It was a battle of wills and Marric would lose. Iven was probably his only hope of finding the cure. But could Marric trust him with Regan?