Janet turns big eyes to me. I don’t want to admit that it might be too late for her to use this tactic now—the painting is nearly finished. I don’t think there’s any big way to alter it now. But maybe… “When it’s finished, maybe you can add an embossed top layer.”
Her brows rise. “What would that do?”
“Add some texture and depth. But we could make an embossed paint imbued with an interest puller.” I walk to the shelf and grab a book in which I know I’ve seen something about the interest potion. “The tricky part is altering the ingredients to make sure there aren’t any negative reactions. You’ll need to find some embossing paint and bring it in so we can study the ingredients. There might be alcohol in it, which is nearly impossible to work with in potions.”
“So, find an alcohol-free embossing paint. Got it.” Janet nods firmly. “I’ll look tomorrow.”
We spend another hour or so chatting about Janet’s painting and Lola’s music while I baby my new potion. Lola wiggles while she talks about her song. “I wish I could show you, but well, you wouldn’t hear much of it.”
“You could put us to sleep tonight,” I say. “When it’s time for bed!”
“But that would take away some of yourprivate time.” Lola winks.
I blush.
Jarron chuckles. “Sleeping with her is never a waste of our time.”
“Well, not today,” Lola says. “I don’t think I’m ready yet. But I’ll take you up on that when I’m closer to being finished.”
“Deal,” I tell her.
We have a steak dinner all together in my workshop, which is stupid delicious, and I feel so full. So good. Even though I’m keeping secrets from Jarron, and there’s this undercurrent of anxiety about that, it feels amazing just to be with him.
“So,” Lola says, once she’s finished with her tiny steak, “I’m stuffed. Hey Jarron, have you heard from Bea at all?”
I cough on my bite. “Lola,” I say through my food, eyes wide.
“What? I’m just curious. Trevor is working with your family, right? He hasn’t sided with the rebels?”
“Trevor is on my side, yes. Bea is not.”
We all still, letting his words settle.
His shoulders tense. “My brother is… not happy about any of it. But he has chosen his family.”
We’re quiet for a bit.
“She’s his chosen,” I say softly after a while. “Wouldn’t he do anything to protect her?”
“Yes, he would,” Jarron says. “Which is why I will never expect him to reveal her whereabouts or plans. There’s a great amount of tension between us, even though I know he’s making large sacrifices to help me. I constantly wonder if he’s hiding something. If one day, he’ll change his mind and put a dagger through my back for her.”
Jarron’s own loyalists will turn on him quickly to save themselves.
Was that a warning?
I swallow, heart clenched. Even though I know Bea has different intentions, that thought is terrifying.
“He can never harm her or do anything to put her at risk, but that does not mean they must always be on the same side. Mates can turn into enemies. It’s not easy and almost always results in tragedy, but love does not mean you always agree on major things.”
“So,” Janet says softly, “you still intend to—”
“My brother knows full well,” his voice is so firm, filled with violence, “if I ever see her again, I’ll kill her.”
* * *
An hour later, we’re packing up to leave the workshop and I get the chance to pull Lola to the side. “What the hell was that?” I whisper-yell at her. “Bringing up Bea?”
She squeaks but leans in close. “We needed to know for sure. What if he was willing to forgive her?”
