“Maybe.” I graze the length of her upper arm. “You couldn’t finish him because he wasn’t ready to be seen.”
She closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, a hint of determination burns in her gaze. Like she’s about to tear herself away from a craving she can’t keep indulging. I don’t know how I sense all of that, but it’s there in the growing tether between us—like she’s just decided to grab her gardening scissors and cut me loose. Permanently.
The mist presses harder against the window, greedy and endless.
“Listen, E—” she starts, and my blood runs cold, a sudden need rising in me to stop her before she finishes that sentence.
“Wait. I think I figured out a way to get into the attic.”
She squints at my outburst. “I’m all ears.”
“We need to do another séance. With enough concentration, I could burn the runes off the walls. Would that work?”
She chews on her bottom lip. “If you kept physical form long enough to destroy a few of them, it might work, but last time you barely got three seconds to nudge that cane out of the way before the effect of the séance faded.”
“I might be more efficient this time around. Practice makes perfect,” I suggest with exaggerated pep.
She’s unsure. Either she doesn’t think it’ll work, or she’s guessed the real reason I want to do another séance. Why I cut her off now when I’ve been so keen on listening before. What I really plan to do with another shot at touching her. Because fuck, we’re not friends.
We could never be friends, not the way my soul howls for her. And I won’t give up without a fight.
Chapter 13
Hexes and Oh's
MAX
I’m in a dark bedroom where the windows are boarded shut. The metallic heads of the many, many nails catch the faint flicker of candlelight in nefarious patterns. The stale air tickles my nostrils, but that discomfort is nothing in comparison to the roar in my chest.
He’s here again—the man with wings. His face is hidden, his body haloed by a light that pulses around him. Shadows shift across his bare chest, tracing the rise of muscle and bone as he breathes. He wraps a hand around my long side braid and slides down its length.
I’m almost certain it’s E, or at least the person I imagine him to be. If I could see his face, I’d know the truth. Eyes are windows to the soul. If I could see him, I’d know whether he’s some devil sent to steal my soul, or a kindred spirit.
He moves closer. The floorboards creak under my weight as his fingers brush the top button of my nightgown, undoing it, then the next. The sound of my ragged breaths fills the room.
“Your secret is safe with me, witch,” he murmurs.
“You could have any woman you want. Why me?” I squeak.
He kisses my neck and slips my nightgown off. “Because you like fucking the dead. And now that I know your filthy little secret, you belong to me.”
I hate him, but it doesn’t stop me from lusting for him. For his power. When I kiss him, there’s no hesitation in me, no restraint. I was waiting for him long before I ever learned his name, even though he’s dangerous.
When I’m in his arms, I’m his queen. The queen of a world where only he makes the rules, and that’s intoxicating.
I wake with a start, the sort of false awakening that sends my heart straight to my throat. I’m on the cliffs now, with my beloved pressed at my back, his arm wrapped around my midriff.
“What is it, little fox?” E whispers. “Another nightmare?”
I nod.
He tucks his chin in the crook of my neck. “You’re safe, now. It wasn’t real.”
I shift in his embrace. “I shouldn’t stay.”
He keeps me captive, denying me the chance to see his face. “Shh. Isn’t it sweet for us here, in the Dreaming? To have someplace to meet, across time?”
A pout twists my lips. “I wish I could see your eyes. I want to know your name?—”
