Ancient oaths be damned. I’m wholly at her mercy—the sweet, formidable, beautiful witch who has the Devil utterly bound.
First by magic, second by love.
And I’m quite certain it will be my downfall.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
VIOLET
It’s half-past three in the morning—the witching hour. Here in Anxietyville, it’s also known as the endlessly-staring-at-the-ceiling, wondering-how-my-life-went-so-far-off-the-rails hour.
But tonight, for the first time since I was a kid living under Gigi’s magical roof, I don’t feel so lost and out of control.
I feel… happy.
I hardly even recognize the word.
Devlin just snuck down to the café to raid the day-old pastries from Emmie’s, and I’m here in bed, finally alone after several hours of panty-melting debauchery that started with me on my knees and ended with Devlin on his, my poor cats cowering in the pantry to escape the primal howls coming from my bedroom (yes, I howled like a she-wolf, I’m not ashamed to admit it).
But an anxious mind has its own kind of dark magic—the undeniable power to poison even the most joyful moments. One minute you’re floating on air, butterflies dancing in your stomach, your heart about ready to burst with the exciting possibilities of it all… and the next you’re curled up in the fetal position, hyper-focusing on all the ways it can and most likelywillgo wrong.
And just like that, the happy feeling inside me pops like an overinflated balloon.
Don’t get too comfortable,my brain says now.Happiness is too elusive. Too easily shattered.
I try to counter it, Devlin’s whispered confessions stirring those butterflies back to life.I’ve gone and fallen in love with you anyway. Accidentally, but completely…
But here in his absence, sheets rapidly cooling, all I can think about is what happens when he leaves for good. When he goes back to Hell, cursed to remain, or gets stuck here, cursed to die.
Happiness is an illusion,says my oh-so-helpful brain.And the happier you allow yourself to feel, the harder it is when you make that inevitable face-plant. The one youalwaysmake, Violet, because no matter how hard you try, you can never, ever be perfect…
Goddess, I can’t stop thinking about him. Of our first dance on Halloween that eventually led to our first kiss. Of our firsteverythingthat came after (came being the operative word, multiple times, in multiple ways).
That night, I was nervous and exhilarated and yes,extremelyturned on. It was its own kind of happiness—one my brain actually let me keep.
But tonight?
The poison inside me is already spreading, his words twisting into weapons for my anxiety to wield against me.
I’ve gone and fallen in love with you anyway. Accidentally, but completely…
He meant it. I felt it in his energy, in his fevered kisses tonight.
But no matter what he says, no matter what hebelieves, this thing between uswasn’tan accident.
And it wasn’t love, either,my brain says.It was magic, plain and simple. A binding spell that he’s confusing with the real thing…
“I hate you,” I whisper to my brain, to the anxiety that’s been poisoning me since I was a kid, making me terrified of losing every good thing that comes my way.
Another fifteen minutes pass, and Devlin’s still not back. I try to get used to it, knowing I’ll have to soon enough.
But all that does is make my chest hurt.
“Please, Gigi,” I whisper, the panic simmering again, old insecurities rushing in hot. “I just need a sign. What do I do? How do I know if this is real?”
My phone pings from the nightstand, and I startle. Flick on the bedside lamp. Put on my glasses.
There beneath the phone, three Tarot cards rest, all in a row.
