Soul mate
n. one of a pair or a group of amorous supernaturals who are bonded through an unbreakable magical connection
I grimace at the word amorous, and then my eyes reread the last bit of the definition.
An unbreakable magical connection.
No. No, no, no.
We’re in denial again, I see. Memnon’s earlier words float through my head like a taunt.
My panic is interrupted when my phone buzzes…then keeps buzzing.
Worst time ever for my friend to call.
I answer without looking. “Sybil, I promise you, I’m fine.”
I’m not fine at all. Not even a little bit.
A gruff voice clears their throat, and shit, this is not Sybil.
“Ms. Bowers?” a masculine voice says, one I vaguely recognize.
“Uh…yeah, sorry, hi there,” I say, trying to recover the pieces of my dignity.
“This is Officer Howahkan with the Politia. We spoke at the beginning of the week. Do you have a moment?”
My mind is screaming, I am a soul mate! I clear my throat. “Yeah, sure.” That sounded normal and not hysterical, right?
“We are trying to solidify your alibi”—that pulls me into the moment—“and I wanted to follow up with you on getting your notebooks so we can create a comprehensive timeline for you.”
This…sounds a lot like I’m a suspect.
And yet I feel a wave of relief. They want my notebooks. Even though Officer Howahkan couldn’t clear me based on what he saw in my planner, that doesn’t mean something in one of my other planners won’t cover my ass. I have two others I’m also using at the moment, and a few others might have some overlap.
As soon as the Politia gets a good look at all of them, it’ll be clear I have an ironclad alibi and a large paper trail. This is my chance to get myself off the suspect list.
“Of course,” I say, nibbling on a half-painted nail. “Anything you want to look at, you can see.” So long as it gets me cleared, I’m fine with it.
“Great,” the officer says. “Will you be home tomorrow afternoon?”
“I have class until two. But after that, I’ll be home for the rest of the day.”
“All right, then I’ll have one of my colleagues swing by sometime between then and five to collect them.”
Officer Howahkan and I end the call shortly after that, and I drop my phone and rub the heel of my hands into my eyes.
As much as I want to focus on what it means to be a suspect, my mind keeps going to that email. To the fact I really am a soul mate.
I’m going to have to save a copy of those results and write them down in a billion different places just so I don’t forget again. I should do that right now.
Instead, I roll onto my back, my shoulder bumping against Nero’s body. I place a hand over my heart and close my eyes.
The truth I’ve ignored has been right here this whole time. That magical river, the one I drew Memnon’s magic from, is still there, patiently waiting for me to notice it. It’s time I stopped denying its existence.
The moment I focus on it, really focus on it, I can sense the sorcerer’s power on the other end, along with a brief glimpse of his mood, which seems to be calm yet determined.
That little insight causes my breath to catch and warmth to bloom low in my belly. I’m literally connected to another person. I can feel him.
And for good or for ill, he may actually be my person.
I take a deep breath, remembering the trick he taught me some time ago.
Memnon? I push the word down that magical river, sending it out like a message in a bottle.
I wait, my eyes still closed.
Did it work? Did I manage to—？
Est amage, you are using our connection…
I can hear Memnon’s pleasure in his response. I can even feel warmth in his words. That warmth goes against every other aspect about him, and yet something about it makes me want him in an entirely new way, one that has nothing to do with his sex appeal.
I exhale, trying to calm the turbulent storm of my emotions. I focus on what I want to say to him and push it down our…bond.
I don’t understand any of this, but I believe you. I take another deep breath and finish the thought. You’re my soul mate, and I’m yours.
Memnon’s initial response isn’t a sentence, it’s a feeling: hope. There’s some other emotions mixed with it—triumph, and maybe a touch of regret? It all flitters by too fast for me to make sense of, especially on top of my own tangle of emotions.
Est amage, I have yearned to hear you say those words. I am coming over…