realize it’s the only scenario that would allow me to protect Timber and be with him at the same time.
In the past, hiring a warlock never seemed worth the enormous risk. The side effects of a botched spell are terrifying. Sometimes people didn’t just die but became mindless zombies. Other victims of botched spells ended up losing their conscience and killing people for fun. Some people have lost entire limbs or their bones became so twisted, they couldn’t walk or sit up straight. The more complex the spell, the higher the risk.
The question is this: Which risk do I take? Do I risk Timber’s safety or my own?
As I pull on my jeans and slip on my shoes, I imagine what our lives could be if my bond ache was gone. Timber and I could be open about our relationship. We could have a family together.
Isn’t that worth any amount of risk? Or is that my bond ache talking?
The thing that makes me pause is what price I’d pay for a spell like that. Unlike the polar bear shifters in the north and the Illusors of the desert, ice dragon shifters don’t have magic in their blood. If we want to perform spells, we have to pay for them, and the price for magic isn’t just financial. It’s deeper than that.
My father was the one who paid the price for my magical tie to Edward Monroe. That was a part of their deal. He never told me what the price was. All I know is that after he went to the warlock, every bit of evidence that my omega father was ever alive disappeared from our apartment. Even the photos. The pictures themselves were still there, but the image of my omega father was simply gone.
I think my alpha father paid the price for my magical tie with the memory of his fated mate.
What is so precious to me that it could ever compare to something like that? I could pay with memories of my omega father too, but as much as I loved him, those memories wouldn’t be as powerful. They were mates. Besides, a magical tie is a far simpler spell than what I would need. I’d have to give up something far more dear to me.
I descend the long staircase that leads to the roof, and take slow steps to my favorite place in the world—my library.
Every dragon has a collection of something—their hoard. It’s what allows them to shift into their dragon form. If they ever lose their hoard, they can start the collection again, but shifting becomes difficult, if not impossible. They often become broken versions of themselves, endlessly longing for the dragon within that they can never quite reach.
A hoard would be the ultimate sacrifice.
I run my fingers along the spines of all the pretty books. First editions of A Tale of Two Cities, Pride and Prejudice, and Moby Dick. My library is one of the most extensive collections of rare English literature in the world. If anything happened to it, an irreplaceable part of literary history would be lost.
I tell myself I still have time. Timber and I can probably sneak around for the next few weeks or months without getting caught. I tell myself that I’ll think of something else I can sacrifice.
But I also gently pull out my first edition of Frankenstein and head for Marjorie’s office.
“Please donate this to the New York Public Library,” I say, placing it next to her keyboard.
She’s sitting at her desk, going over spreadsheets on her computer.
“Wait. You’re home? How did it go?”
I give her the most convincing smile I can manage. “It went well. Please contact the director of the library to prepare them for the shipment, then meet me on the veranda. We have something to discuss.”
17
Timber
It’s well past midnight when Manny finally drags a roll-out mattress from underneath his bed. As much as I enjoy catching up with him, we both need rest.
Manny falls asleep right away, but I lie on the mattress for over an hour, wondering what I’m going to do next. Tomorrow I’ll need to call Davey and tell him I had unprotected sex with Andrew. It’s against my contract to have unprotected sex with anyone. They’ll suspend me from filming for a full six weeks, which will give me a legitimate reason to not perform. But after that, what is my plan? I don’t have enough money to stop working, and I don’t have any more marketable skills