Oh, hell no! He just magicked me into liking the kiss! My stomach turned with how wrong this was, and I summoned every ounce of my power. Sparks shot from the palms of my hands as I shoved him away and finally managed to break the kiss.
“What the hell was that?” I accused, drawing away from him hastily.
He touched his hand to his chest where some of my sparks still singed him, burning through his immaculate grey suit. He appeared amused, intrigued even.
“Is your father a warlock or a human?” he asked.
I frowned, then replied, “Human. Why?”
“You have powers. More than I would expect from a Halfling.”
“A Halfling?” I questioned.
“Half-human, half-witch,” he explained.
“Okay, well, you still haven’t told me why you kissed me. Is that how you greet all of your granddaughters?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a granddaughter before, and you are very pretty.” He stopped for a second and studied me. “Ah, I see why you’re so appalled. You were brought up in the human world. If you had been raised in the way of magic, you would know that what you have been taught to refer to as incest is not frowned upon in our realm. In fact, it is encouraged. It allows us to maintain our pure bloodlines.”
I scrunched up my face, not knowing what to say. I was entirely grossed out. I shook my entire body, feeling like his kiss was a tangible thing that was stuck to me and I wanted it off.
I pointed a finger at him warningly. “I don’t care if you think it’s normal to French your granddaughter. Don’t do it again.”
He laughed long and deep, and I felt it vibrate right down to the pit of my stomach.
“You’re feisty,” he said, and with a sweep of his hand, the white room transformed into a beautiful library filled with old bookshelves and antique furniture. He gestured for me to sit on an armchair, and I obliged. I was still trying to get my head around the whole ‘incest equals good’, as opposed to ‘incest equals bad’ thing. I wanted to get to know my grandfather, but if he had romantic intentions, then I could definitely forego the family bonding.
Roman sat at the head of a gorgeously carved wooden desk and continued to stare at me. “You sought me out for a reason. What is it?”
“Don’t you even want to know my name first?” I asked.
He closed his eyes, and a faint smile touched his lips. “Tegan Stolle. Now I know your name. Talk.”
“Impressive,” I muttered, and a silence ensued.
Finally, I exhaled and proceeded to detail the predicament in Tribane, including Theodore’s barrier shutting the rest of the world out and how the human population knew about supernatural creatures following Whitfield’s vampire attacks. I finished up by requesting he help me undo the barrier and somehow erase the humans’ knowledge of supernaturals. Oh, and I also snuck in that I would very much like to make Rita good again.
Roman tapped a finger to his mouth. “Sounds like a tricky and complicated situation. I remember Theodore from my youth. He had already become a sorcerer at that point, but he wasn’t as powerful back then as he is now.” A look of nostalgia crossed his features.
“When exactly were those days of youth?” I asked curiously.
He appeared to be casting his mind back. “I turned fourteen in the year 1578 if I recall correctly.”
I gaped at him, doing the mental calculation. “That means you’re, like, over four hundred years old.” It also meant that Theodore was even older. A shiver ran down my spine.
“And I don’t look a day over forty,” he said with a confident smile.
More like fifty, but I didn’t correct him.
“I’ll be twenty-seven this year,” I said instead.
His eyes grew intense as he appraised me. “And you wear your twenty-seven years exquisitely.”
I rolled my eyes at his flirting, which seemed to amuse him. “I bet Emilia just loves you,” he commented with no small amount of sarcasm.
I chuckled. “Yeah, she thinks I’m a real prize.”
“I remember her well. She was never fond of women like you. She thought all girls should be taught to behave like ladies, never to talk back or give attitude.”
“That’s a joke. She wasn’t acting like much of a lady when she was spreading her legs for you with her husband at home none the wiser.”
“I hope you told her that.”
“I did, actually.” Roman laughed, thoroughly entertained by the idea. I tried to direct the conversation back to the matter at hand. “So, can you help me?”
He stood from his desk and walked to the chair I was sitting in, perching himself on the armrest. His long, cleanly manicured fingers trailed from the top of my head, down my hair, and along my spine slowly. I bristled at his touch but suffered through it, not wanting to offend him and his incestuous ways, even if they did creep me the eff out.