“Not really, but I think we should.”
“If it’s truly acting like a shifter bond, you might not be able to. Not even mages have figured out how to break those, and believe me, the eastern coast dragons have tried.”
“The dragons?” I ask, intrigued.
“I probably shouldn’t gossip about Dorian’s family,” she says, obviously about to gossip. “But back in the early 2000s, his uncle bonded with a woman from another clan—Romeo and Juliet style. The families were livid. His grandfather threw an absolute fortune at several sorcerers’ guilds in Philadelphia and New York in hopes that someone could figure out how to break the bond, but it was to no avail.”
“What happened?” I whisper.
“The couple was in a car accident. Dorian’s uncle died at the scene, and his wife passed away a few hours later in a human hospital.” Hazel frowns. “It was tragic.”
“Was it an accident?” I ask, careful to keep my voice low.
“The rumor is that Dorian’s grandfather hired an assassin to run his daughter-in-law off the road, not realizing his son was going to be in the car with her.”
“That’s awful,” I whisper.
“No one knows how much truth there is to it, but Dorian completely cut ties with his family. He doesn’t visit them, and they don’t come here.” She sighs. “Anyway, if the people his high and mighty clan hired weren’t able to break the bond, I’m not sure Rowan and Ansel stand much of a chance.”
Knowing sorcerers as I do, that’s a challenge, not a deterrent.
“How are you managing the bond?” she asks. “Is it difficult?”
“Oh, it’s okay.” I feel weird talking about it, but I want to confide in someone who understands. And as a bonded shifter, Hazel gets it. “I keep getting jealous.”
“That gets better with time. I imagine Keira coming back didn’t help.”
I groan a little, just the woman’s name making me uneasy. “I keep worrying that I’m standing in their way.”
She frowns. “Was Rowan hoping to get back together with her? You know, before you found out about the bond?”
“No. But it just keeps running through my head.”
“The magic will make you crazy if you let it,” she says sympathetically. “I’ve heard that if things feel a little unstable in your relationship, it’s normal to imagine all kinds of awful scenarios.”
Before I can respond, Rowan returns to the tearoom.
“Hi, Hazel,” he says when he joins us at the counter, and then he nods at the jam jars. “You filled our order quickly.”
“It was no trouble. I was making a few batches to restock the store anyway.” She gives the ice in her glass a stir, drinks the last of the tea, and then sighs regretfully as she gingerly lowers herself to the ground. “I guess I should get back now. It looks like it’s time to close for the day.”
“Thank you again, Hazel,” I say, wishing we could have finished our conversation. “See you later.”
The bell over the door jingles, and then the shop falls silent. Rowan produces his wand and points it at the door. The open sign flips over, announcing we’re closed, and he sets the lock.
“Now you’re just showing off,” I joke.
He looks at me, his body relaxed and his expression inviting. He’s entirely too handsome for my sanity.
“I think you’re easily impressed,” he says.
I shrug, leaning against the counter, wanting to get close but unsure what direction his moral compass is pointing today. Is it a throw-caution-to-the-wind sort of day? Or a keep-our-hands-to-ourselves sort of day?
Rowan’s gaze sweeps over my face. “What are you thinking about?”
“That we really need to get this bond mess sorted so I can kiss you whenever I want.”
His eyes flicker, darkening, and his smile becomes more of a smirk. “And how often is that?”
