“No!” The word tore out of me. I spun on my heel, heat scalding my neck. “I’m tired! You drain me. This—” I jabbed a finger between us. “Takes energy. Sick, dark energy. And my magic is supposed to be pure. Love is supposed to be pure. But every time I see you, it feels tainted.”
Grant’s jaw went rigid. He prowled into my space, his body a tower of tension. “You hate me that much?”
“You hate me more!” I snapped back at him.
The words landed like a physical blow that even his three-piece suit of armor couldn’t withstand. Grant’s mouth curled, not into a grin, but something darker and barely leashed.
“For so many reasons.” His chest rose on a heavy inhale. “I could never list them all.”
My pulse thudded in my ears, my breath coming too fast. His gaze held mine, freezing me in place, then the flecks of ice in his eyes flicked down to my mouth.
And trouble just landed in paradise.
I should have stepped back—maybe even sprinted for open water. Instead, I tilted my chin up like I was daring him.
I was.
“Try me.”
His hand twitched at his side as if he was stopping himself from reaching for me.
“Careful, Spells,” he said, his voice low enough to be dangerous. “My list would break your heart.”
He already had. Not all at once, but in tiny, precise cuts, across time and space. And he was doing it again, right now, his fingers sliding up to catch my chin, rough enough to hold me still, not enough to hurt. He saved his words for that. This was what we did. We electrified the water and provoked each other to dip our toes in.
It was hot.
It was so wrong.
And it did break my heart.
His thumb grazed the corner of my mouth, making my stomach dip. The heat radiating off him bled through my dress, his jacket brushing my hip as he closed the last inches between us.
My pulse skittered. The scent of salt and winter spice clung to him. He was so close I could taste it on the air. My toes curled in the sand, desperate for something solid.
I was dizzy with that feeling, the kind where I was a second away from making a huge mistake—from tasting my enemy to see if it burned asmuch as it should.
My tongue swept across my dry lips.
Grant’s grip on my chin tightened. His breath jerked like he'd shocked himself.
Mine held.
My body, my brain, and my heart all clamored for attention. But something deeper answered.
If he kissed me, I wouldn’t stop him. I couldn’t. Wanting him was bad enough—wanting him this much was worse.
“Grant!”
The shout cracked the moment. His grandfather’s voice, sharp and cutting, carried from the pavilion.
Grant’s hand dropped instantly, leaving the skin under my chin burning like frostbite.
“You’re right,” he said, his words coated with gravel. “Whatever this is, it isn’t pure. It’s messy. It bursts all your picture-perfect bubbles, doesn’t it?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Good.”
