front. None of it is real. Nothing about your life is real.” I watch Noah’s face soften as I walk towards him, closing the distance between us. “I’ve never been as confused as I was in Windsor Manor. I had feelings for Luke that I knew were based on a lie, but damn it, I just hadn’t come to terms with everything. I needed answers, that’s all. That’s why I snuck out to see him.”
Noah sighs and his shoulders fall about three inches, tension he’d been holding for weeks melting away. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.”
I want to touch him, to reach out and run my hand across the stubble on his cheek, to wrap my arm around his shoulders and draw him close to me. I want to feel the heat of his lips on mine and his body pressing into me. I want to use the belt loops on those jeans that should be illegal he looks so good in them and pull his hips into mine.
You know what?
Strike that.
I want him to touch me.
My breath is coming quickly through my parted lips and my eyes are hooded as they sweep across his face, searching for some indication of what he’s feeling. Well, all the indication I need is written all across that face. My desire is reflected there. He steps towards me, puts a hand on my cheek and that blessed little golden ping of contact feels so good that I sigh and close my eyes against the tears that spring to life at his touch, the touch I’ve been wanting for months now.
And then it all goes to hell, with Luke banging open the front door and me scurrying down the hallway to get dressed as Luke calls out for Noah to join him so they can go over a plan.
Shit.
I close my bedroom door behind me, lean against it, and close my eyes. My chest is heaving and I can’t stop the smile from sliding across my face and holy shit I wish he’d had the chance to kiss me again.
All the fatigue I’d been fighting from a few minutes ago is gone. Banished from existence by Noah’s hand on my cheek. I scour my closet for something decent to wear. I use that word scour like I really have to search extra hard or something. That’s not fair at all. Daya outfitted me with some designer duds when it became obvious that vampires seem to prefer hunting in nightclubs and bars. Oftentimes high end nightclubs and bars. I’ve got my fair share of elegant dresses and sweet ass shoes. Clean lines, nothing too revealing. The goal is to blend in, not stand out.
Here’s where being a witch has its little perks. My hair is in bad shape from drying up in a bun on top of my head. My face is devoid of makeup. I mean hell, I’m fresh out of the shower and ready for bed. I’ve got a good hour of prep time ahead of me. Except not really. With a little wag of my fingers and the proper incantation, my hair falls down my back in perfectly messy waves and tada! Makeup! A subtle, smoky eyeliner, a bit of red on my lips, and I look … well … I don’t look half bad.
After a moment, I use another spell to get rid of the bone weary fatigue that’s settling right back into my body. I’m gonna pay for that one tomorrow. That’s a little bit of dark magic there. I could have used light magic and healed myself, but that would have taken too long. The dark magic is more like popping a pill, I’m basically borrowing against tomorrow’s energy.
Nothing I can’t fix by sleeping a little later and grabbing a couple extra shots of espresso at work.
I hear the guys, banging around in the bathroom, drawers closing and body spray spritzing and just as my hand clasps around the doorknob, I consider the amulet Barnabe Withers gave me. He says it’s for protection, and maybe it is, but knowing what I know, it’s probably got some ulterior motive attached to it. What better time to wear it than tonight? Maybe even find out just exactly what kind of secondary spells are on the thing.
It’s not exactly the most fitting accessory, what with the leather strap and all, but maybe it’ll fit under my dress. Crazy thing is, as I pull it out
Noah sighs and his shoulders fall about three inches, tension he’d been holding for weeks melting away. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.”
I want to touch him, to reach out and run my hand across the stubble on his cheek, to wrap my arm around his shoulders and draw him close to me. I want to feel the heat of his lips on mine and his body pressing into me. I want to use the belt loops on those jeans that should be illegal he looks so good in them and pull his hips into mine.
You know what?
Strike that.
I want him to touch me.
My breath is coming quickly through my parted lips and my eyes are hooded as they sweep across his face, searching for some indication of what he’s feeling. Well, all the indication I need is written all across that face. My desire is reflected there. He steps towards me, puts a hand on my cheek and that blessed little golden ping of contact feels so good that I sigh and close my eyes against the tears that spring to life at his touch, the touch I’ve been wanting for months now.
And then it all goes to hell, with Luke banging open the front door and me scurrying down the hallway to get dressed as Luke calls out for Noah to join him so they can go over a plan.
Shit.
I close my bedroom door behind me, lean against it, and close my eyes. My chest is heaving and I can’t stop the smile from sliding across my face and holy shit I wish he’d had the chance to kiss me again.
All the fatigue I’d been fighting from a few minutes ago is gone. Banished from existence by Noah’s hand on my cheek. I scour my closet for something decent to wear. I use that word scour like I really have to search extra hard or something. That’s not fair at all. Daya outfitted me with some designer duds when it became obvious that vampires seem to prefer hunting in nightclubs and bars. Oftentimes high end nightclubs and bars. I’ve got my fair share of elegant dresses and sweet ass shoes. Clean lines, nothing too revealing. The goal is to blend in, not stand out.
Here’s where being a witch has its little perks. My hair is in bad shape from drying up in a bun on top of my head. My face is devoid of makeup. I mean hell, I’m fresh out of the shower and ready for bed. I’ve got a good hour of prep time ahead of me. Except not really. With a little wag of my fingers and the proper incantation, my hair falls down my back in perfectly messy waves and tada! Makeup! A subtle, smoky eyeliner, a bit of red on my lips, and I look … well … I don’t look half bad.
After a moment, I use another spell to get rid of the bone weary fatigue that’s settling right back into my body. I’m gonna pay for that one tomorrow. That’s a little bit of dark magic there. I could have used light magic and healed myself, but that would have taken too long. The dark magic is more like popping a pill, I’m basically borrowing against tomorrow’s energy.
Nothing I can’t fix by sleeping a little later and grabbing a couple extra shots of espresso at work.
I hear the guys, banging around in the bathroom, drawers closing and body spray spritzing and just as my hand clasps around the doorknob, I consider the amulet Barnabe Withers gave me. He says it’s for protection, and maybe it is, but knowing what I know, it’s probably got some ulterior motive attached to it. What better time to wear it than tonight? Maybe even find out just exactly what kind of secondary spells are on the thing.
It’s not exactly the most fitting accessory, what with the leather strap and all, but maybe it’ll fit under my dress. Crazy thing is, as I pull it out
Similar Books
