A Little Green Magic (The Little Coven #1) - Isabel Wroth Page 0,42

rush to put something in here, from the peek I got it looks like you've got plenty at Rowena's to get your business going—and I'll help you in any way I can—but maybe down the road when you need to expand, you can hire some garden fairies or something to help you keep it all going.”

With her fork poised to stab a carrot, Ivy went still as more of the cobwebs tangled and woven around her memories were brushed aside. Uriah gave her thigh a squeeze and said her name with a note of concern.

“My mom called me that.”

“Called you what?”

Ivy put her fork down, her gaze sliding to where she'd set her mother's journal. “Her little garden fairy. I think it was the same day I first learned how to pull sleeping flowers from inside their seeds. The memories just keep randomly coming up.”

“I checked in with Rowena like she asked while you were sleeping; she said considering the strength of the binding, there might be huge chunks of your childhood that you don't remember.”

Ivy nodded, forcing herself to dig back into the delicious meal her amazing mate had made for her, using the food to keep her mouth full to avoid speaking.

Uriah hadn't done anything wrong, and Rowena was her best friend. Both of them worked together to take care of Ivy because they loved her and wanted to protect her. Still, she couldn’t avoid the burn of anger that they’d been talking about her behind her back.

Uriah moved his hand from her thigh to her back, rubbing soothing circles between her shoulders. “Honey, what is it?”

“I'm so... so...” Ivy gripped her fork so hard her knuckles turned white, struggling to choke out the words burning in her throat.

“Angry?” Uriah suggested helpfully.

“YES!” She threw her fork down with a ringing clatter and stood up so fast she nearly knocked the barstool over, furious tears pricking her dry, scratchy eyes. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

Uriah righted her stool and turned to face her, reaching out to take her clenched hands, massaging until she quit digging her nails into her palms. “Don't be sorry, Ivy. I get it.”

“How could you possibly get it?” she snapped, instantly regretting having lashed out at him.

Uriah didn't reprimand her or snap back. Instead he lifted her knuckles to his lips to press loving kisses across each one. It made her feel loved, and like an absolute bitch as he opened himself up and exposed a pain so deep, the tears she cried were for both of them.

“My father and uncle were killed on a job. Our family business centered around hunting down shifters who’d gone rogue and threatened to expose the community, and sometimes they went after humans who’d captured shifters for whatever reason.

“This particular time, a local pride hired my dad and my uncle to track down a group of humans who were taking shifters to use in these fucked-up big game hunts. By the time my folks were tasked with the job, over thirty shifters had gone missing.

“I was at home with my mom when the pride came to tell us something went wrong. That my dad and my uncle weren’t coming back. While I listened to my mom wail and scream, I told myself over and over things would have gone different if my dad had let me come with him. I felt like they’d left me behind because they thought I was too young to be of any use to them.

“Insane with grief, my mom went after the humans responsible for killing her mate and her brother a few days later. She left me, just took off one night without saying anything, and by the time I realized where she'd gone, she was dead too.

“I felt so betrayed, so angry, so fuckin alone. I tore off to my cousin's place because they were the only family I had left, and when I got there, all they had to say was that my dad, my uncle, my mom, were all heroes. They clapped me on the back and told me I should be proud, and still, there wasn't anything in me but rage.”

The tide of Ivy's anger ebbed, leaving only sadness behind as Uriah told his tale.

“When my cousins decided to take down the human hunters, they didn't tell me I was too young. They gave me weapons, involved me in the planning and strategy, praised me for my furious demands that we kill them all. They encouraged me to