Renegade Witch_An Urban Fantasy Reverse Harem Romance by T. S. Bishop

Author:T. S. Bishop [Bishop, T. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Nathan Ingram was an unassuming man.

His features weren’t particularly memorable or striking, and he seemed to kind of vanish into the background of every room he was in. He was thin and tall, with mousey brown hair and glasses that he adjusted nervously whenever someone spoke to him.

Even his grand Pathfinder robes, made of rich dark blue velvet and threaded with gold and diamonds that winked like stars when he moved, did nothing to dispel the feeling that he was fundamentally quite a boring person.

“That’s him?” I asked Hannah, “That’s the great Nathan Ingram?”

“Yes!” she replied, face slightly flushed. “Oh, don’t judge him by how he looks! He’s really quite brilliant. He’s the first male Pathfinder we’ve had in a hundred years.”

“Someone has a crush,” I said, low and amused.

“Shut up!” she said, looking around quickly and furtively, “I don’t want anyone to find out.”

“I get it, top secret stuff,” I said, miming zipping my mouth closed. “So have you ever actually talked to him or are you just mooning over him from afar?”

“I could never talk to him, are you crazy?!”

“What, why not? I thought the point of having a crush on someone was to…do something about it?”

“You are the wrongest person to ever wrong,” Hannah hissed, “The only thing I’m going to do is keep this a secret to the literal grave and die without telling him! It would be best if he died without knowing as well!”

“Smooth plan,” I said, munching on a bit of smoked cheese.

“That’s a bit rich coming from you,” Hannah hissed. She quickly abandoned her moody expression when Lady Carver looked our way, curtsying deeply and adopting a look of soppy deference.

“Oh my god, stop,” I said, through a mouthful of food. Lady Carver noticed me standing there with a plate of food in each hand and wrinkled her nose.

Just then, a flaming dragon glided into the room and exploded, releasing seven very confused looking peacocks.

I’d say this for witches: they sure knew how to throw a party.

“And what d’you mean ‘coming from me’?”

“I mean, what are you going to do about Adrian?”

“What would I need to do about Adrian?” I asked, heart sinking.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” Hannah snorted, “The lingering glances and the accidental touches and the pining—you’re both incredibly obvious.”

“I wouldn’t call myself obvious—wait, what do you mean ‘both’? Are you saying Adrian--? Not that I’m admitting to…anything.”

“Good, then you won’t mind that he’s coming over to ask you to dance,” Hannah said sweetly, looking across the hall.

To where Adrian was, indeed, walking over and looking heart-stoppingly handsome in a funereal black tux that managed to bring out the deep blue of his eyes. The crisp white undershirt contrasted with the golden tan of his sleek throat and highlighted the chiseled straight line of his jaw.

I was very, very screwed.

“Adrian!” Hannah said cheerfully, giving him her hand to kiss. They looked comfortable with each other, like brother and sister, and I felt a pang of jealousy. It was all very well for them, to be attending balls and to mingle with fancy witches and heads of state.

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