Page 9 of Witches and Wine (The Mythical Mates of Arcane Cove #1)

Laughing at Dion playing musical chairs, I playfully shoved his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Going on a date with you.” Dion pointed down, beckoning me to sit.

Slowly, I obliged, sinking to my seat and eyeing him warily. “Here? Right now?”

“Why not? This place has the best burgers in town.” Dion raised his arm and turned his attention to the man behind the counter. “Marty, two specials, one with extra mustard and a chocolate milkshake, would ya?”

“You got it, D,” the man replied gruffly.

Powering off the tablet, I slipped it into my purse and folded my hands on the table. “I love chocolate milkshakes.”

“I know.” Dion grinned and pressed his forearms to the table, bringing his sultry stare closer to me.

I’d taken a moment to appreciate how different from Apollo he looked sitting across from me.

Dion carried himself differently. Apollo was clearly an attractive man, but Dion had a sort of feral energy about him—his sexy, unkempt hair, the beard, the tattoos.

If I hadn’t known any better, I’d label him as one of those shifters in a paranormal romance novel—the alpha kind who became crazed to claim their mates and mark them as theirs. The thought made my core tighten.

“Did I tell you that at some point?” I rubbed my thumbs together.

Dion chuckled and finger-walked across the table until his rough terra cotta hand found mine, and he grazed my skin. “You did. I believe it was a random text at two in the morning saying that you could really go for a chocolate milkshake right about now.”

Heat pooled in my face, and I slapped a hand over my eyes. “Ugh. The things I’ve felt compelled to text you these past few months.”

Dion’s fingers brushed my knuckles, and he gently lowered my hand. “And I’ve felt privileged to receive every one of them, Chels.” He pinned me with his gaze, my ass melting into the seat and ever so slowly, then brought my knuckles to his mouth, kissing my skin.

A raspy breath escaped my throat, and I nibbled my lip.

“There’s something I need to tell you, and it may come as a bit of a shock, but all I’m asking is for you to keep an open mind. Alright?” Dion caressed my hand with his bottom lip, back and forth, all while keeping his eyes focused on mine.

Such an ominous introduction should’ve made me far more worried to hear what he had to say. Between the strokes from his lips against my knuckles and the lust and intrigue dancing circles in his dark eyes, he could’ve told me the world was ending tomorrow, and I couldn’t say I’d panic about it.

“Okay,” I whispered, offering him a reassuring smile.

He lowered our hands to the table and held out an open palm to take both of mine with his. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. What I wouldn’t give to have that label, and yet I’d stupidly fought it all this time.

“What’s up, Dion? You can tell me anything.” I squeezed his hands.

Dion made languid strokes on the tops of my hands with his calloused thumbs. “Take a look around you, Red. And I mean really look. Tell me what you see.”

If any other person had asked me to do the same thing, I would’ve paused to ask the why of it before succumbing, but not with Dion.

He’d always been my singular act of impulsivity until I decided to up and move to Arcane Cove.

Thinking back on it, though, I’d say part of that was a little voice in my head telling me to just fucking do it—Dion’s voice.

Clearing my throat, I sat up straight and pivoted around the diner.

“I see tables, chairs, and windows. A young couple in the opposite corner from us, both with long, straight hair. One has—” I paused after taking in the details.

“—pointed ears.” Confusion pulled my glance to Dion to confirm it, and he gave a reassuring nod to continue.

“Um, an older woman is sitting by herself reading a book, and sitting at the bar is a man with—” Staring at him at first, I gulped. “—green skin and tusks? Dion, what?—”

Dion tightened his grip on my hands and pulled me toward him, my elbows sliding across the table.

“Think about it. That couple in the corner? Elves. The older woman? A banshee. The green fellow? An ogre. The owner here, Marty? He’s a walrus shifter.

A Greek god is sitting across from you, and another just signed on to be your client. ”

When I tried to sit back, Dion held on tighter and wouldn’t let me budge, grounding me. The bakery shop owner—when she said she sprinkled it with magic—she meant it.

“So, what are you trying to say? This place? The Cove? It’s full of mythical, magical beings?” I clenched my knees together under the table to keep them from bouncing.

“Yes, and no humans. There are wards guarding this place that don’t allow them entry.” Dion said the last few words slower and more deliberately.

My breathing grew shallow, and my heartbeat throttled into a gallop. “Then how did I get—” A tightness coiled in my throat, and I suddenly couldn’t blink. “Oh,” I breathed out. “ Oh .”

“Oh,” Dion repeated, tilting his head to the side to study me.

“Oh, gods. Oh my—” Confusion spiraled through me like a cyclone.

Dion bolted from his seat and sat next to me, his massive arm wrapping my shoulders, hands rubbing up and down my arms. “Breathe, Chels. Breathe.”

My efforts at taking deep breaths turned into my cheeks puffing like a blowfish. Dion used one hand to fan my face. “You’re saying that I’m not human? That I’m something else ?”

“Yeah.” Dion’s expression melted into concern.

Breathing came easier, but my heart refused to settle down. “And you don’t know what that something is?”

He cupped my face, his thumb tracing my cheek. “I wish I did, sweetheart.”

And there came the panicked, maniacal breathing again. “I’m going to need something far stronger than a chocolate milkshake to process this, Dion.”

“Right. Let me grab our shit to go, and we’ll motor to wherever you want.” Dion slid from the booth and rested his hands on my shoulders. “Just don’t run away on me or anything, yeah?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, offering him a warm smile.

His shoulders slumped like he’d been tensing. After pressing a quick kiss to my forehead, he whisked over to the bar, grabbed our food, the milkshake, and returned to me with an offered arm. “Where would you like to go, Red? You name it.”

The universe only knew what compelled me to give the answer I was about to give. I stood, rubbed the grape cluster charm hanging from the chain around Dion’s neck, and whispered, “Your place.”

I wasn’t sure why I’d expected him to ask me if I was sure, but he didn’t. Heat blazed in his eyes, and he wrapped an arm around me, porting us from the diner in front of everyone. We appeared in his apartment, ivy leaves and burgundy star dust cascading around us before disappearing.

“That felt so liberating,” I said, not tearing my gaze away from him.

Dion’s arm had yet to uncoil from my waist. “Which part?” His voice was gravelly and so incredibly deep.

“That you could openly exhibit your powers without fear of someone seeing. Freedom from judgment .” My hand moved of its own accord, traveling up Dion’s stomach until it reached his lips, my fingers exploring the hair surrounding his mouth.

Dion curled back a corner of his upper lip, making his canines grow ever so slightly. I hovered over one, fascinated by it and curious how much larger they got. “What you thinkin’, Red?”

Visions flashed through my mind—Dion crawling over me, caging me in with those safe, muscular arms, the weight of him as he lowered his hips like pure bliss.

“Devilish, filthy thoughts, Dionysus,” I whispered, slipping my finger into his mouth, grinning as he flicked his tongue against it and let one canine graze the skin.

Dion took my hand in his, curling it against his chest. “Even after just learning you’re a fairy tale and not knowing which one?”

The question snapped me from some misty haze I’d unknowingly thrown myself into. “I—I don’t?—”

Grinning, Dion strolled past me, his lips lowering to my ear. “And now you can’t blame my godly essence for your desire to have me between your thighs, Chelsea.”

My stomach tripped over itself, and I inexplicably forgot how to articulate words. “I never—I mean to say?—”

Dion gave a husky chuckle and swatted my ass, making me yelp, heat flooding my neck and face. “How about that drink?”

“Yes, please,” I squeaked. Smacking my hands over my face, I turned on a heel, collapsing over the dark marbled bar Dion whisked behind.

The dips and grooves of the stonework suddenly became of keen interest. I traced my fingertips across the smoothness, patches of divots and rougher spots tickling my skin. “This is really nice, Dion.”

He’d already poured one wine glass and turned with the bottle in his hand, filling the other. An amused smile played on his lips. “Thanks. Here you go. This’ll help take the edge off.”

“Appreciate it,” I responded slowly, taking the fancy goblet with both hands. Pewter grape vines circled the stem, and I busied my thumbs over the design as I took a deep gulp—fruity, earthy, and something I couldn’t place. “No offense, but this tastes funny.”

Dion let out one of those gravelly chuckles that made me lean in closer to him to feel the vibrations, and I hummed. “None taken. I laced it halfway with ambrosia wine.”

I’d begun to sip again, and my brows raised over the rim, my nose in the glass. “Ambrosia?”

“Uh-huh.” Dion pressed his forearms to the bar, crossing one over the other. “Not sure you need it yet, given your power hasn’t manifested, but figured an extra kick wouldn’t hurt given the circumstances.”

Power. Manifestation. Fucking magic . It was all enough to make my head spin, or maybe it was the wine.

Growling, I kicked my heels off and stormed for the living room, where a comfy cream-colored area rug lay, beckoning me to curl my toes on it. “You know what the most frustrating part about all of this is?” I swayed my arms, the glass going with them, sloshing the red contents.

“What’s that, Red?” Dion had followed me, and smiling, he gently took the glass from my grasp, filling it with more wine.

“Not knowing what I am or how to figure it out.” I raised my hands to the air and let them flop against my thighs in defeat.

“Here.” Dion offered me the goblet. I reached for it, but he delicately took my hand and brought the glass to my lips. “You drink, I’ll hold. Deal?”

Nodding, a bubbling sensation rising in my belly, I took a sip. “Gods, this stuff works fast, huh?”

“Chelsea,” Dion pinched my chin and tilted it upward to look at him. “You need to relax.”

Relax? What was even the definition of relaxed?

“I guess I don’t understand it. My sister was a gift to our family from the gods turned goddess, that I understand.” Opening my mouth to him to indicate I wished for my wine, he obliged, grinning and pouring some past my lips. “But our dad is normal and—” A hollow pit formed in my stomach.

Dion’s grip on my hand tightened like he thought I was about to collapse. “Chelsea?”

“Was it my mom? But she never said anything.” My breathing grew erratic again, thoughts jumbling, my heart thundering in my chest. “ Why wouldn’t she say anything?” Something sparked in my eyes, the sensation only making the panic worse.

“Chels, Chels, come here,” Dion soothed, pulling me to him in an embrace. He wrapped his broad arms around me and held me tight, stroking my hair. “Listen to my breathing. Time it with mine.”

Following his words, I pressed my ear to his chest, counting how many times his heart beat for every four or five of my own. Steadily, my breathing returned to normal, and I stood motionless, letting his tightly secured arms make me feel safe.

My mother passed away when my sister and I were children. I was older than Elani when it happened, but I, too, was so young and hadn’t had a chance to know much about her.

“Want to know what I think?” Dion asked, his voice booming through his chest against my ear.

Not saying anything, I simply nodded.

“I think I should take you home, let you get some rest, and when you wake up, you can take the time to figure it out. Maybe call your sister.”

Pushing against him, I peeled back and pouted. “But that means leaving you.”

“I’ll still be here,” Dion said, laughing. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily now that you’re finally talking to me again, Stewart.” He bumped me under the chin with his knuckle.

“But—” I started, the word coming out as one long whine.

Dion trailed a finger down my spine, the contact utterly titillating despite the cloth barrier of my shirt. He rested that same hand on my hip. “We’ll have plenty of time for fun later. You figure this out first.”

“Fun?” I grinned wickedly. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“You’re right. With me, it’s more of a carnal ecstasy.” Dion let out a low growl, his nose brushing my cheek, and I could feel the grin on his lips against my skin.

Groaning, I playfully shoved him. “Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, Red.” Dion cradled me in his arms and ported us to my apartment before I could try to protest.

I’d heard the whooshing of his porting magic, but I rested my head in the crook of his neck and contentedly closed my eyes. His deep, rumbly voice lightly hummed Lay All Your Love on Me as he rested me on my bed, but I was already too close to sleep to appreciate it fully.

“Go to sleep, Chelsea.” Dion’s lips brushed my forehead. “And remember, you need to relax .”

It was the last thing I heard before my mind and body drifted into slumber, visions of bonfires, dancing shadows, and curved horns overtaking my dreams.