Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

And I rather suspected that if I ever did meet them again, I’d once again be that frightened sixteen-year-old faced with an untenable situation.

It was only thanks to Belle that I’d escaped. She’d been my strength—my rock—during those last few bitter weeks in Canberra. In fact, she was the only reason I was even alive today.

I flexed my fingers, trying to ease the inner tension. Trying to push away the hurtful memories. “Witch legalities tend to be a little different than human or wolf.”

“Your parents aren’t witches. They’re human.”

I cursed inwardly. It was getting harder and harder to keep the lies straight and yet no matter how much I hated doing so, I also couldn’t stop. I might like Aiden, but he was never going to be anything more than a good time. Never going to be the person I settled down with. Until I found that man, my secrets would remain mine.

“My grandmother was half witch, my mother quarter. That brings us all into the legal sphere of the council.”

And while I hoped—with every ounce of my being—that the documents I’d been forced to sign at sixteen wouldn’t stand in a court of law, I had absolutely no desire to ever find out if they did or not.

Aiden didn’t say anything, though his skepticism spun around me, sharpening the weight of guilt.

We headed out of Castle Rock and cruised down the highway toward Argyle. I wound down the window, stuck my hand out, and let the cooling air play through my fingers. It remained empty of any threat, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the unease I felt was more anxiety over the unknown witch’s arrival than any real sense of danger.

We found parking in one of the side streets just off Vincent Street and the highly decorated main shopping strip. Aiden placed a warm hand against my spine, causing my breath to hitch a little as he lightly guided me to the restaurant, which went by the rather amusing name of The Blue Roo. The main room wasn’t very large—there was perhaps a dozen tables, all of which were full, which was a positive sign considering it hadn’t been open long. The brick walls were painted a dark blue that contrasted nicely against the white furniture and bright pots of flowers scattered in corners and hanging from hooks on the walls. An unlit fireplace dominated one wall and to one side of it was a small but beautifully decorated Christmas tree. At the far end of the room lay the open kitchen, a corridor to the lavatories, and an ornate, cast-iron set of stairs that led up to the next floor.

A young woman in jeans and a black shirt with a small blue roo stitched onto the left side approached and said, “Evening. Have you got a booking?”

“Aiden O’Connor.”

She looked it up, then grabbed some menus and said, “Follow me, please.”

We were led up the stairs then across to a corner table that was only lit by a small candle and the light streaming in from the nearby window. Aiden seated me and then sat opposite. The table was small enough that our knees touched, and it caused all sorts of havoc to my already giddy pulse rate.

“This is all very romantic,” I said, smiling at the waitress as she handed me a wine list.

“Thought it was needed after all the near misses we’ve had of late. What would you like to drink?”

There were several of my favorite wines on the list, but given I’d taken painkillers not too long ago, I erred on the side of caution. “I’ll just have a lemon, lime, and bitters, thanks.”

Aiden ordered one of the many local craft beers, and then raised his eyebrows. “That’s a rather staid choice, isn’t it?”

“You’re closeness has me giddy enough. I don’t need alcohol.”

He laughed. The warm sound caressed my skin as softly as any touch. “I’m supposed to be the one with the smooth lines, not you.”

“I believe in equal opportunity when it comes to that sort of thing.” I grinned. “What time do you have to start work tomorrow?”

“I’m on the early shift, unfortunately.”

“Which sadly means there’ll be no long, lingering wake up. Such a shame.”

He smiled. In the flickering candlelight, his eyes were a very vivid blue and his dark blond hair ran with silver. Like most wolves, he was rangy, but his shoulders were a good width and his arms well muscled. He was, by anyone’s account, a very good-looking man, despite the somewhat sharp planes of his face.

“There can be,” he said. “We just have to wake up earlier.”

“I wouldn’t advise waking me too early. Not without a coffee in hand. It could get ugly.”

Amusement played about his lips. “How ugly are we talking about? Because with so many younger brothers and sisters, I’m a dab hand at dealing with ugly.”

“I’m talking ‘even Belle fears to tread’ type ugly.”

“Ah. Well, let’s forget the whole waking early without coffee feature of our re

lationship.”