Rhiannon’s shoulders drooped with a sigh. Christian always came through for her. She hoped he would do so this time in particular. The burn the note left on her fingers felt personal, the hate there too strong.
Rhiannon laid her forehead on the steering wheel and counted to ten. Her heart was still hammering in her ears, her ass cheeks burned with the memory of the slaps, and her thighs kept trembling from the strength of the orgasm. And her guilt? Well, the punishment did nothing to allay it. She’d enjoyed said punishment too much.
It was time to ask her sister for a favor. And she needed all her wits about her for it. When she knocked on Ceridwen’s ornate phthalo green door—because of course the empress of greenery would have a goddamn trendy color for her front entrance—Rhiannon realized she perhaps should’ve taken a bit more time to think before she came to here. And maybe to clean up a touch better.
Ceridwen opened her door in a set of jade pajamas—Rhiannon almost rolled her eyes at the cliché the oldest Crowhart was becoming—took one look, and gaped.
“Ran out of hot water at your apartment, Rhiannon? Surely a shower would’ve been the first thing you’d install in that shack of yours if you envisioned sex as your Tuesday night activity.”
Instead of bristling, Rhiannon held back a self-satisfied grin. Some things hadn’t changed. And her sister was still a bit of a prude. Good. Rhiannon had twisted the knife plenty in their teenage years. She always had more girlfriends and boyfriends, being unencumbered by a particular type of sensibility that Ceridwen wore on her sleeve. Rhiannon had no compulsionsto keep any of her conquests from Ceridwen. And while she had flaunted them in her poor sister’s face then, this time was different.
“Are you finished with your insults?”
Ceridwen pursed her lips and stepped aside, letting her in.
This had been their “distant second cousin three or four times removed” cottage, far enough from their house to have privacy and not too far as to take a long time to get there. Rhiannon remembered that it was supposed to be hers, since by tradition Ceridwen, as the oldest daughter, was meant to remain in their mother’s house.
“Guess things changed.” Rhiannon didn’t bother explaining herself, just gestured around the cozy living room Ceridwen showed her into.
“You weren’t here and you made it very clear you wanted nothing and were not coming back. Seren wanted the Crowhart stones much more than I ever did, so I let her have the house. As for this one? Would you have preferred me to have let it fall to ruin?” Ceridwen’s voice held a lot of resentment, and Rhiannon felt an unexpected pang of her heart. She didn’t come here to reopen wounds. Nor did she come to antagonize her sister. Their issues ran deeper than an old home.
“No, there has been too much ruin as is. I don’t care about the cottage. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
Ceridwen’s eyes widened.
“What do you want, Rhiannon? Because surely you’re not here to apologize about some house when that is the?—”
“Yes, yes, that is the least of our problems. And that’s true, hence the apology which you can take or leave, by the way.” Her sister’s snootiness was always where their conversations turned sour back then, and Rhiannon felt it would not be much different now. If only Ceridwen were less prissy about every little thing.
“No, no, go on.”
Rhiannon took a breath, then another. And then forged ahead.
“You’re teaching Prudence the craft. Have you talked to her about how to use it to…hurt?”
Ceridwen jumped to her feet.
“You’ve lost your mind, Rhiannon!”
“Oh, can the outrage, Ceri. I walked in on her being manhandled by some tall, dark, and probably imagining herself handsome. In her own home! So let me ask you again. What are you teaching her that would have been useful to her in that particular situation?”
Ceridwen sat down, and Rhiannon couldn’t help but notice that this time her sister was much closer.
“Lisa is back, I take it?”
“I didn’t catch her name as she bolted out the door.”
“You didn’t!”
“I didn’t what? Slap her around with magic? You mean like before?”
It was Rhiannon’s turn to raise her eyebrow at Ceridwen. She was particularly proud that hers was a superior eyebrow lift. Definitely.
After a beat, Ceridwen exhaled.
“No, I don’t believe you did.”
Rhiannon had to laugh. If their past was any indication, they both knew she was by far less scrupulous than Ceridwen.
