Fated to the Warlock: An Arcane Affairs Agency Short by Glass Ava & Agency Arcane Affairs

Author:Glass, Ava & Agency, Arcane Affairs [Glass, Ava]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2016-10-17T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

We turn on the pipes to wash the tub and ourselves. Warm water envelops us. We sit on opposite ends and luxuriate. What’s happened has left me in a daze. I suppose it’s fitting I’m in a bathtub. I need time for this to soak in.

I gape at the lines and curves of his arms and chest. I want to lean over and trace them with my fingers, but somehow that seems wrong, even after everything.

Gavin extends his hand, as if he’s introducing himself on an awkward blind date. “Hello,” he says. “I’m Gavin. I’m from Hampshire. My parents wanted me to join a respectable coven, but I joined The Agency instead.”

I chuckle and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you Gavin. I’m from Oregon. My parents are kind of hippieish, but they like The Agency just fine because they’re big on cooperation among paranormals.” We’re on an awkward blind date all right—one set up by fate. A date soon to be followed by a shotgun wedding. I really don’t want to think about that. We live a continent and an ocean apart. How is this supposed to work?

We make only light conversation as we dress, too exhausted to tackle much else. Where do we go from here? I’m not about to start patting him on the butt and calling him honey. Can’t we just go out for coffee like normal people first?

The Cobbolds left us a portable bed, in addition to the sumptuous four-poster. It would be ridiculous to use the second bed at this point, but we must maintain appearances, or rather smells.

I’m still on North American time, but The Agency provided me a pouch of an experimental dried potion I can reconstitute and drink in order to sleep and realign my internal clock.

I sit on the portable bed and open the pouch. Between my sense of smell and my physical and mental exhaustion, a good whiff triggers a yawn. So much for the need to mix it with water.

I put it back in my messenger bag and flop back. The portable bed soft enough. If Gavin wants to argue about who’s taking the big bed, good luck to him. My eyelids are lead weights.

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