She nudges a spoon on the counter, then straightens a stack of napkins that were already perfectly lined up.
“Come to think of it…he’s hated everyone I’ve ever dated,” she sighs.
She lumps me in with them—the ones who got to hold her at night.
It makes me proud and giddy. Maybe even a little sly.
“So, he always dislikes your boyfriends,” I sum up.
She takes a careful sip from her cup. “Yes.”
“And you think he’s going to hate me.”
“Without a doubt.”
I let the insinuation stretch.
“Does that make me your boyfriend?”
“Err— No.” Her jaw drops open for half a second, her knuckles whitening around the small, handleless ceramic cup. “Shut up.”
“But you linked the two,” I tease.
The flush at her throat awakens something feral and satisfied inside me.
“No, I didn’t,” she argues.
I move behind her, unable to resist the magnetism of that blush. “Yes, you did.”
“You’re creepy as hell. Always glued to my side, stalking my every move. Always pushing me to examine my feelings…” she mutters.
“Helpingyou,” I correct. “And keeping you company.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s the only tolerable part.”
With a grin, I press my fingers to her pulse point, the need to kiss her there thudding through me like a second heartbeat. “Didn’t we look good together?” I breathe. “In that mirror.”
My fingertips glide along the nape of her neck, enough to lift the fine hairs there, and her lids flutter closed.
“Don’t remind me,” she says. “I promised a fucking Fae King I would fetch him something I’ve never seen or heard of in my entire life, otherwise he’s going to burn down the only home I’ve ever known. Let’s concentrate on that.”
I lean closer, letting my voice ghost over the shell of her ear. “All work and no play makes Max a dull witch.”
I wrap a hand around the side of her neck, my thumb brushing the angle of her jaw. “Don’t overthink it.”
She sucks in air as I lower my nose to the sensitive skin behind her ear, letting the shape of my mouth hover where a kiss should land, and a shiver quakes her spine. I’m not solid, not truly, but the veil between us thins, and she turns her head, leaning into me.
“By the Dark One, you don’t know when to stop, do you?”
I grin at that. “I never stop.”
A hollow space twists in my chest. I want what I cannot have—her warmth, her pulse, the curve of her neck under my mouth. I want to imprint my fingerprints on her hips and brand memories into her skin, not just haunt the spaces around her.
“Kiss me again,” I say.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it? When you touch me, I become real. Let me be real for you.”
