Текст книги "Bewitched"

Автор книги: Laura Thalassa

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

CHAPTER 22

Witches party. A lot. Normally, I’m all for that.

Tonight I’m not.

“Sybil, you cannot be serious,” I say when I enter her room in the evening. She’s already pulled on a sequined minidress that changes color depending on which direction you smooth out the sequins. It’s the kind of outfit that begs for hands to touch it.

“Witches are getting murdered on campus grounds after hours,” I say. Already, I heard talk that the coven is thinking of imposing a curfew.

She glances up at me, holding an eyeshadow palette and brush in her hand. Her gaze slides over my lounge pants and loose shirt. “Why aren’t you dressed? I texted you about the party hours ago.”

“Because it’s not safe,” I say slowly. It’s been three nights since I found Andrea, the witch who was murdered in the woods. She’d been unaffiliated with any known coven, simply moving through the area.

Still, her name will be burned into my memory until my magic takes it.

Sybil blows out a breath. “Did you see anyone when you came down to my room?” she asks out of nowhere.

My brows come together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Did you?” she presses.

I shake my head.

“Did you hear anyone when you were walking through our house?”

My brows furrow further. “Why does that even matter—?”

“The rest of our housemates are already at the party, which yes, is across the Everwoods on lycanthrope territory, and yes, the world is a dangerous place, but the world has always been a dangerous place for witches, Selene.”

Other witches were already out in those woods? The thought chills my blood. Why is no one else taking this seriously?

Sybil continues. “The Marin Pack is patrolling the forest, and the coven’s head witches have cast protective wards on the area. Whoever is killing witches would be unable to hurt any witch without the entire coven and the shifters knowing.

“Besides,” she throws in casually, “they’re saying the women weren’t killed in the woods, just moved there.”

A shiver wracks my body.

As if that’s much better.

“And you’re going to walk through those woods alone?” I ask.

“Goddess, Selene, I was going to walk over with you, but I can find another witch to head over with if you’re not coming.”

Hell will freeze over before I let my best friend travel across those woods with some random housemate who may not be looking out for her the way I will.

Even if it gets me freaking murdered in the process.

I blow out a breath. “Fine,” I say, “I’ll come along, but only so you don’t get yourself killed in your quest to get drunk and laid.”

Sybil lets out an excited squeal. “You’re not going to regret it.”

I highly doubt that.

“Pretty sure the people who invented heels were fans of waterboarding, iron maidens, and the Spanish Inquisition,” I mutter as I pull on a thigh-high boot from Sybil’s closet. I wear a deep-blue minidress with exaggerated bell sleeves. “And I’m the loser who’s wearing them,” I continue, “all so I can drink cheap booze and make poor decisions.”

“My goddess, Selene, stop channeling your inner eighty-two-year-old and cut loose a little.”

I make a face as I pull the other boot on. “My inner eighty-two-year-old has figured some things out,” I retort.

“Don’t you want to see the werewolves’ territory?”

Not really.

“Plus, Kane is going to be there—”

I groan. “For the love of our goddess, please stop with Kane,” I say.

“Only if you go. If not, I’m going to find him and tell him you’re wildly in love with him and want to have his little wolfy babies.”

Horrified, I glance at my friend. “Sybil.”

It might’ve once been true. Now, when I close my eyes, it’s a different face I think about. One that makes my stomach twist with both dread and desire.

Sybil cackles, every inch the villainous witch.

“You wouldn’t,” I say.

“No, but only because you’re going.”

Sybil braids a small section of my hair on either side of my temples, then secures them away from my face with clips painted to look like real butterflies. She murmurs a spell under her breath, and the next time I look in the mirror, I see the wings of my clips flutter and resettle, as though they were real.

The two of us touch up each other’s makeup, and then we leave the house. Sybil and I cut across campus, past the massive glass conservatory on our right, which is still lit up, despite the late hour. Lampposts around the school bathe the rest of campus in pretty golden light, but the moment we hit the tree line, the shadows swallow us.

“This is a bad idea, Sybil,” I say, staring around us at the dark forms of trees. It doesn’t help that my familiar is off hunting tonight instead of at my side. There’s nothing like having a panther bodyguard to make a girl feel safe.

Sybil bends down and plucks a weed from the ground. Holding it in her palm, she whispers a spell. The plant shrivels and twists before our eyes. In its place grows a ball of pale green light. She blows on it, and it bobs ahead of us, lighting our way. Almost as an afterthought, she drops the dead weed from her hand.

I stare at her for a second longer. “You truly are extraordinary, you know.” I’m so proud of her, my friend who will one day change the world.

“Awww,” Sybil says, bumping her shoulder against mine. “So are you, Selene.”

I draw her words close and let myself believe them. When my memory loss feels overwhelming or when it prevents me from doing the sorts of things other witches take for granted, I can second-guess my abilities. This is my reminder to tell my insecurities to fuck off.

Sybil winds her arm through mine. “Isn’t it wild?” she says. “Just think of all those stories they tell about these woods.”

I give her a sharp look. “You mean the ones where witches are being murdered?” I say, my voice rising a little.

“Goddess,” Sybil says, exasperated, rolling her eyes at me. “The Everwoods has far more to its history than the recent murders.” She glances at me. “Have you heard about the witches claimed during the Sacred Seven?”

According to werewolves, the Sacred Seven are the seven days closest to the full moon, the time when their magic compels them to shift. Normally, packs keep to themselves during those days, usually to stop themselves from accidentally harming nonshifters.

“No,” I say. “What the hell do you mean there have been witches claimed during the Sacred Seven?”

Sybil lifts a shoulder. “Lycanthropes have been known to lay a claiming bite on witches out late in these woods—if, of course, the witch is unable or unwilling to stop them.”

“What?” I say, aghast. “That actually happens?” My eyes flick to the sky above us, searching for the moon. But of course it’s not there. Even if the trees and the clouds weren’t obscuring my view, tomorrow is the new moon, which means there’s not much to see in the sky right now.

“That’s how lycanthropes claim their mates.” Sybil gives me a sly smile. “Ask a shifter tonight how their parents met. Some of them have witch mothers.”

Witch mothers who might also shift into wolves, if what she’s saying is true.

“It’s not just lycanthropes either,” Sybil continues. “There are stories of fae who’ve snatched witches from these woods to be their brides.”

“Are these stories supposed to make me feel better? Because all I know now is that I should worry about murderers, werewolves, and fairies.”

“Don’t forget your vengeful mummy,” she says playfully, a smile spreading on her lips.

My mood darkens at the reminder. But before I can dwell on it too long, the distant thumping of music drifts through the woods.

We continue on a little ways, and then, ahead of us, the forest brightens, and through the trees, I catch sight of supernaturals dancing and mingling in a small clearing next to a cabin.

Sybil and I make it to the revelers, and Sybil’s orb floats up and joins dozens of others in the air above us, each emitting light the shade of the caster’s magic. It looks ethereal, and the sight of it reminds me of Sybil’s earlier words about the fae claiming brides on nights like tonight.

A shiver courses through me.

Next to me, Sybil murmurs, “Through sweat and salt and musky fear, send the cold away from here.”

The chill in the air disperses, leaving the night feeling a touch balmy.

“You’re welcome,” Sybil whispers.

I shake my head and smile. I keep forgetting how much fun it is to openly use magic. I’m still used to living among humans and concealing it.

Sybil and I head inside the cabin, where more shifters and witches are hanging out. I recognize a big group of witches from our house, and I join them while Sybil runs off to grab us drinks.

I listen as my coven sisters chat about how hard premed magic is and nod when appropriate, but I’m distracted by my own unease. This feels like a reenactment of Little Red Riding Hood, only the whole story is flipped on its head, and the wolves aren’t going to eat us—whatever is lurking out in these woods will.

In my mind’s eye, I see that murdered witch again, with her gaping chest cavity and missing organs—

“I saw Kane.”

I nearly jump at the sound of Sybil’s voice in my ear.

“Maiden, Mother, and Crone, Sybil,” I say, clutching my heart. “You scared me.”

“Ease up, Bowers,” she says, pressing a red cup into my hand. “I’m not going to bite. Kane, on the other hand…”

“Will you stop?” I whisper frantically.

“Never,” she whispers back.

As I speak to Sybil, I catch the eye of one of the witches across the way, her features almost painfully symmetrical.

I’m about 75 percent sure that’s Kasey, the shady spell-circle witch. She responded to my earlier text with the time and place of the spell circle.

Now she gives me a little wave, and I wave back at her, my stomach twisting on itself.

Really need to get a respectable job. I don’t have the nerves for shady side gigs.

Olga comes over to us, her hair a frizzy tangle of curls and her eyes wild.

“No Book of Last Words?” Sybil says, looking the witch over. “I thought you never parted with it.”

“Ledger,” Olga clarifies. “It’s the Ledger of Last words.” She holds up her drink. “And I didn’t want to spill beer on it. But I’ve added to it since we last spoke…”

I force myself to tune out the rest of what she has to say. Normally, I’m as curious as the next person about death and last words and all that jazz, but tonight it’s not sitting well. Not when I’m already on edge.

So I sip my drink and let my eyes wander over the cabin while my coven sisters chat.

The house is two stories tall, and from where I stand in the living room, I can see the doors that line the second story. Most of them are already closed, and it doesn’t take any supernatural sense of mine to know just what is going on behind them.

Without meaning to, my eyes land on a group of lycanthropes across the room, near a roaring fireplace. The magic shimmering off them is translucent and textured, rather than colorful and misty. At the center of them is the one and only Kane Halloway.

My stomach flips at the sight of him chatting with one of his friends, and all those old feelings of excitement and infatuation bubble up. Back at Peel Academy, I pined for this guy. And for all that time, he looked right through me.

Kane turns away from one of his friends, and before I can look away, those lupine blue eyes of his catch mine.

Look away, I command myself.

But I can’t seem to.

Kane holds my gaze, and the longer I stare, the more I swear I see his wolf peeking out from those irises. Heat rises to my cheeks as the two of us stay locked like that. I don’t know much about lycanthropes, but I’m pretty sure staring is a dominance display. And I’m pretty sure challenging a wolf like this is a bad idea.

Across the room, Kane’s nostrils flare just the slightest.

Then he smiles.

“Oh my goddess,” Sybil says, catching sight of the exchange. “Go over and talk to him like you’ve wanted to for the past several years,” Sybil says.

Finally, reluctantly, I force my gaze away from Kane to give my friend a pointed look.

“He can hear you,” I say, my voice low. Even in their human form, lycanthropes have preternatural hearing.

“Then I hope he knows you’d happily fuck him too,” Sybil says louder.

Hell’s bells.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kane grin with the confidence of a man who definitely just heard that bit of conversation.

“Why would you do that to me?” I whisper furiously at her.

“Because I love you and you’ve waited too long for good things to happen to you.” Sybil gives me a quick squeeze, then pushes me out of the circle of witches.

I stumble away, flashing her a betrayed look.

“What are you—?” But Sybil has already turned back to Olga, who is only too happy to resume her conversation about last words.

I take a few steps away, chewing on my lower lip, my heart racing. I glance down at my beer. I’m going to need at least three more drinks before my confidence is anywhere near high enough to approach my longtime crush.

“Hey.” That deep, masculine voice nearly makes me drop my red cup.

I turn toward the voice, and there’s Kane, looking larger and stronger and altogether hotter than my memories of him.

“Hey back,” I say. I’m proud the words actually came out because I am drowning in adrenaline. I’m pretty sure the same people responsible for heels and iron maidens and the Spanish Inquisition also invented crushes because there is nothing pleasant about this feeling. Which, to be fair, is probably why it’s called a crush in the first place, because I’m positive Kane is about to pulverize my giddy little heart beneath his boot. I can’t imagine this ending any other way.

“Selene, right?” he says, those lupine eyes a little too intense this close. I can practically feel the power radiating off him. Now I do want to bare my neck and look away.

Surprise has me raising my eyebrows instead. “You know my name?”

I can’t believe Kane Halloway knows my name.

His own brows furrow. “Of course I remember your name.”

I’m screaming inside.

He’s so much bigger than I remember—not that my memory is to be trusted. And his voice goes straight through my ears and down to my pussy.

Why are you thinking about your pussy? Pull yourself together, woman!

“I’m glad you came,” he says. “I remember you from Peel Academy.”

I nearly drop my drink. “You do?”

I feel like the entire history of my infatuation with him shifts on its axis. I always assumed I blended in with the wallpaper.

Kane gives me a strange look, then leans in conspiratorially. “I did ask you out on a date,” he says. “But you never showed.”

“No,” I say, my voice hushed with horror.

I never showed? Why, universe, why?

“You don’t remember?” he says.

I’m still agonizing over the fact I could’ve been dating this man since high school.

“Um, about that…” How to explain my power? “I have this thing, with my magic—”

Before I can finish, some of Kane’s friends come up to him, one of them slapping him on the back.

“Kane, man, great party.”

One of the other shifters with dark hair lifts his chin at me in greeting. “Hey,” he says, flashing a smile.

Hand to the goddess on high, Kane growls. It’s so low, I’m not entirely sure I heard correctly, but then Kane’s friends back off.

“Easy, boy,” the man with dark hair says, even as he backs away. “I meant no harm. Just wanted to tell the witch she has nice eyes.” He winks at me, even as Kane growls again.

I guess that’s how you fuck with your friend if you’re a shifter—you make him seem weirdly possessive of a girl he just started chatting with.

And maybe if I hadn’t been pining for Kane for years, I would’ve let those growls scare me off. But my happy little heart finds the whole thing thrilling, self-respect be damned.

It helps that Kane is grimacing, as though frustrated with his own reaction. He glares after his friends as they walk away.

“I’m sorry,” he says, turning to me. “There are things about being a lycan…” His jaw works a little as he tries to find the words.

Kane struggles with people accepting parts of his identity? I didn’t expect that.

I wave it off. “Believe me when I tell you, I understand.”

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CHAPTER 23

The next several hours blur by as I chat and drink with Kane. By the time the two of us move to the dance floor, magic has thickened the air, the various colors of it swirling and blending. I breathe it in, the power calling to my own magic, demanding I let go of my inhibitions.

This is one of the aspects of witchery they don’t talk about that often. The wild, nearly frenzied nature of our magic that exposes itself when we gather under a night sky.

I can feel that primordial need for release as I dance with Kane. My clothes feel too heavy and constricting, and I have the urge to strip myself of them. I need…more.

Empress…I hear your call…

My blood heats at the sound of Memnon’s voice in my head, and my need rises. I don’t know when I went from dreading the sorcerer to having this reaction.

I mean to look for Memnon, but my eyes catch on Kane as his nostrils flare, like he scents something. A moment later he cups my cheek on the dance floor, our sweaty bodies sliding against each other.

He stares down at me, and again, I see the lupine glint of his eyes. He leans into my neck, running his lips and nose along the skin there. Whatever he’s doing, it feels…animalistic—like perhaps he’s smelling me or marking me.

His mouth skims along my jaw before he pulls away. He looks into my eyes for a long second, and then slowly, he leans in once more, his eyes dipping to my lips, giving me plenty of time to back out.

I don’t.

His lips brush against mine, and then dancing turns into kissing. I’m unable to stop—my mouth likes the taste of his far too much to stop. Something about it tugs at me, like an itch I can’t quite scratch, and that only makes me fall deeper into the kiss, chasing that elusive sensation.

I don’t know how long we stand there, making out instead of dancing, before Kane lifts me to carry me off the dance floor and then out of the cabin altogether.

Without really looking, I sense that most of the party has already moved out here. Lycans have paired up with witches and one another; somewhere between alcohol, magic, and instinct, the evening turned carnal.

Kane only puts me down so he can press me against a tree, his hands coming back up to cup my face. I close my eyes as he kisses me roughly, and the dominance, the power, it’s stoking a memory…

I open my eyes and frown when Kane’s features don’t align with what I expected.

A love like ours defies everything… I am yours forever…

The phantom words tease out a shiver before I force them away, falling back into the kiss.

Not enough. Not nearly enough.

My hands are moving all over him, and I take a moment to appreciate his muscles through the fabric of his shirt before my fingers dip beneath its hem and run over the rigid planes of his chest.

Kane groans into my mouth, pressing himself deeper into me, and there’s no missing the rigid length of his shaft. Now it’s his turn to touch, his hands moving up my sides, his thumb skimming my breasts.

I moan. An ache grows between my thighs, one I don’t want to resist.

I need…I need…

Little witch, your voice is so pretty when it makes its demands…

I gasp at Memnon’s voice in my head, my core clenching for some perverse reason.

Kane grinds against me, and my mind is a mess—is it the shifter or the sorcerer working me to a fever pitch?

I peer over Kane’s shoulder, looking for…I’m not sure exactly what. My eyes sweep over our surroundings, and I notice just how many other revelers have paired up with each other. I hear heavy breathing and sounds that would make me blush if I were sober. Even now, I see couples and small groups disappearing into the deep night.

Maybe it’s not the men at all—maybe it’s simply the intoxicating combo of booze and magic.

Whatever the cause, I’m flush with desire. But our surroundings…

My grip tightens on Kane, and he pauses to see what has me tensing.

“What’s wrong?” he says, his voice husky.

I swallow. “Witches have been killed in these woods…” Slipping off into the forest right now is a supremely bad idea.

“None of my pack will let any harm come to your coven sisters.”

Unless, of course, a lycanthrope is the one killing them off. The body I saw was brutally torn open.

I squeeze my eyes shut against that thought.

“Hey, you okay?” Kane asks, tipping my chin up with his hand.

I nod, maybe a little too fast, before I open my eyes. “Do you want to get out of here?” I ask.

I’m not above shooting my shot with Kane, even when I’m hearing Memnon in my head and panicking about these woods.

Kane’s wolf peers out from the back of his eyes. “Yeah, I do.”

My heart pounds hard in my chest. Goddess, this is really happening. I’m taking my high school crush home with me.

I take his hand and start leading him away from the party. Then I hesitate. “I came here with a friend, and I was planning on taking her home.”

“Then let’s grab her,” Kane says.

I don’t actually know if Sybil wants to go with me at all, but luckily, I spot her across the clearing, making out with a shifter.

“Just a sec,” I say to Kane. “I’ll be right back.”

I head over to Sybil, a little hesitant to interrupt what looks to be a very heavy make-out session.

“Sybil,” I whisper.

No reaction.

“Sybil,” I whisper louder.

Still nothing.

“Sybil!” I finally shout.

My friend pauses, dragging her face away from the lycan’s. “Hey, Selene,” she says, trying to pull herself together.

“I was going to take Kane back to the house, but I didn’t want to leave you,” I say.

“Leave me,” she insists, her eyes hazy with booze and desire. “I’ll be fine. Sawyer here has promised to walk me home.” She smiles and winks at him. Sawyer looks surprised but thrilled at the prospect.

I hesitate. I don’t want to be awkward here, but—

“That wasn’t the plan.”

“Forget the plan.”

Still, I’m unsure.

She sighs. “Babe, I say this with all the love in the world, but don’t cockblock me. I want this.” Her eyes flick over my shoulder, and she smiles broadly. “And I will definitely not cockblock you either.”

Before I can glance over my shoulder, a warm hand falls to my waist, and I feel Kane’s heat at my back. If I were any less intoxicated, I’d be embarrassed that Kane overheard Sybil’s words. Instead, I lean into the shifter at my back, my need still building.

“Hey there,” Sybil says to him, giving Kane a tiny wave.

“I don’t want to leave you,” I insist.

“I trust Sawyer with my life,” Kane says, jumping into the conversation. “He won’t let anything happen to your friend.” To Sawyer, Kane adds, “Walk her home at the end of the night.” Those words are accompanied by a burst of shifter magic. It brushes my skin and bends the soft light out here before settling on Sawyer’s shoulders.

I don’t know much about pack hierarchy and dynamics, but I think I just witnessed a bit of the power play involved.

“Kane, man,” Sawyer says, “you know you don’t have to tell me.”

I think I’ve been given all the reassurances I can. Still, I don’t like leaving my friend out here regardless. Sybil must see it on my face because she pulls me in for a tight hug and whispers in my ear, “Babe, go screw the brains out of that man. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow. Promise.”

She releases me, then pushes me into Kane, who catches me by the upper arms. To further drive home the fact I’ve been excused, Sybil drags Sawyer’s mouth back down to hers.

All right, message received loud and clear.

I turn from her, and Kane is there, his eyes shining a little too brightly.

“You’d fit right into the pack, you know,” he says, as we move toward the outskirts of the clearing.

“What do you mean?” I ask, threading my fingers through his.

“Pack doesn’t leave their own behind. You were ready to drag her out of there, and even with all our reassurances, I can still scent your worry.”

He can scent what now?

Shit, what else has he been smelling over the past few hours?

I redirect my thoughts back on topic.

“Sybil’s my best friend,” I say as we leave the clearing, the trees looming around us. “She’s always been there for me. I’d give my life for that girl.”

That wolfish glint is back in Kane’s eyes, watching me like he’s tracking my every movement. “Like I said, you’d fit right in with the pack.”

I’m somehow both flattered and unnerved by the compliment.

Lycanthropes have been known to lay a claiming bite on witches out late in these woods.

“Where did you want to go?” Kane says, interrupting my thoughts.

Right. We hadn’t decided on that.

“My place,” I say, leading Kane along by his hand.

Three steps later, I nearly twist my ankle when I step on a branch wrong.

Freaking heels.

Kane catches me before I go down and reels me in close.

“You okay?”

I swallow and nod at him.

“Good.” He smiles and leans in a little closer. “I’m pretty good at giving piggyback rides—if you’re interested.”

I’m a witch, a symbol of revolutionary feminism. I don’t need a man to carry me, or coddle me, or worry over—

“Hell. Yes.”

Kane lifts me and swings me onto his back and, ah, provides some relief for the poor, aching balls of my feet.

“Hold on,” Kane says, and then he runs.

I yelp, nearly falling off at first. I wrap my arms around Kane’s neck and then laugh and laugh.

This is ridiculously fun. Kane is going to get so laid. So laid.

“Someone’s eager,” I whisper into his hair, wrapping one of his sandy curls around my finger.

“Can you blame me?” he says over his shoulder. “I want to get back to kissing those lips.”

“It’s not fair to be hot and have good game,” I whisper back into his ear. I follow it with a brush of my lips.

Before he can answer, we pass a naked couple. I yelp when I see a witch who lives down the hall from me getting railed by a lycanthrope.

“Oh my—titties!” I meant to say goddess, but I sort of just said what I saw instead.

Beneath me, I hear Kane’s booming laugh.

We see another couple and another, each one in various states of ecstasy.

Kane slows briefly partway to campus.

“Why are you slowing?”

Kane points to a nearby standing stone. “These mark the boundary between coven lands and pack lands.”

Branching from either side of the stone is a faint luminous line, magically marking the boundary. I try to remember if I noticed it earlier this evening, but if I did, I’ve since forgotten.

“Why are you showing me this?” Part of me wonders if this is about Nero. Maybe his pack knows my familiar is a panther, and maybe Nero really has been poaching on lycanthrope territory.

Kane is quiet for several seconds, and with each passing moment, I feel more and more like this is about Nero.

But then, he says, “If you ever want to visit me, all you ever have to do is cross the boundary line. My pack mates and I patrol the perimeter here.”

That was not at all what I expected.

I peer over his shoulder at him. “Kane, are you…are you saying you want me to visit you even after tonight?”

Only after I say those words do I realize how much I’ve laid out on the line. Because maybe Kane doesn’t want to see me after tonight and I got it all wrong. Maybe this is where he really does pulverize my heart.

He hesitates again. “Yeah,” he eventually says, “I am.”

And then he begins to run once more, and I’m left with my giddy, churning thoughts until we reach my residence hall.

We pass the stone lamassu, and Kane sets me down in front of the door, catching me when I stumble a little.

His brows come together, and then he leans in, breathing in my scent. “Are you good?” he asks, pulling away. “If you’re not, we don’t have to do anything else toni—”

I grab him by the shirt and resume kissing him. He’s so noble, and damn it, I like that.

Kane is soooooo getting laid. And then laid again.

“I’m fine,” I whisper between one accosting kiss and the next.

That’s all the shifter needs to hear. He growls, the sound not wholly human, and presses me back against my front door as his mouth devours mine all over again.

Somewhere in that kiss, I discover Kane doesn’t taste like I expect him to, nor does his mouth move like I think it will. Each deviation throws me off.

Clearly, this is me trying to sabotage myself because it can’t handle something too good to be true actually, legitimately happening to me.

Right in the middle of the kiss, I start laughing because something too good to be true is happening to me.

“Tell me the joke,” Kane says, still peppering my laughing lips with kisses.

I shake my head against him. “I’ve liked you for so long. I can’t believe I get to kiss you now.”

In response to that, Kane’s mouth returns to mine, and for a brief minute, I’m lost to it. I still have to ignore the nagging thought that something isn’t quite right, but I push it away easily enough.

The cold nips at me, reminding me that I’m still outside in the middle of coven property when I definitely want to be doing more of this kissing in my warm room and on my cozy bed.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I breathe, placing a hand on Kane’s chest and pushing him away. “I need to open the door.”

Kane is breathing heavily, his eyes on my lips. His tongue runs along his lower lip, and I bite back a groan at the sight.

I fumble behind me, my hand groping for the door handle. It takes two tries, a small spell, and me nearly falling again before I’m able to get it open.

Kane scoops me up then before leading us both inside. He carries me up the flight of stairs to the third story, all while kissing me. It’s only as he heads down the hall toward my room that I break off the kiss.

“How do you know which room is mine?” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

He laughs at my suspiciousness. “Don’t hex me, Selene,” he says. “I just followed your scent.”

“Oh.” Duh, Selene. Get a freaking grip.

Kane sets me down in front of my door, and this time I manage not to fumble as I unlock it. I’m about to open it when I feel the brush of magic against the back of my neck and my cheek. It moves over me like a caress, trailing over my mouth. The sensation is so real and so oddly sensual that I have to touch my fingers to my lips, goose bumps breaking out across my flesh.

There’s only one person whose power affects me this way.

I am yours forever…

“Selene?”

I blink, remembering myself. I glance up and down the hall, looking for any sign of Memnon. But I don’t see him, and the magic I felt a moment ago is gone like it never existed at all.