Page 55 of Echoes of the Banshee

The Best News I Never Actually Got

Ireally touched Thea today. Not just a brush of healing magic, not just an accident. This was different. Undeniable, deliberate. And I can’t stop thinking about it as I walk to my dorm. She’s always been careful, painfully careful, not to touch me. She’s respected the invisible barrier I’ve kept between myself and every other witch at this school. Every day, we’ve been close enough to touch, and not once has she tried.

And it bothered me.

I know she can curse me. I’ve seen her working on her Advanced Curses homework. If she’s learning that, she could ruin my life with a single touch. It’s irrational. Maybe I’m a masochist because I still want her to touch me.

Today she finally did. Not just once, but over and over. And I feel like a damn virgin over here with my shorts in a knot. I should’ve offered something easier for the first time. I hadn’t fully considered that hand-to-hand combat is basically violent sex. I tried to go easy on her. She didn’t let me. When I pinned her, I wanted to do it again. Then she turned it around, and I liked that even more. She has strength, heat, and softness in all the right places. What’s wrong with me? I don’t like witches. I sure as hell don’t sleep with them.

I knew I was attracted to her. I’m not blind; she’s beautiful. Or at least I thought that was the extent of it. But seeing her pin me, breath ragged, cheeks flushed, those green eyes lit with fire, all those neat little rules I had crumbled.

I strip down and do a quick check. No marks. I hadn’t even thought to do it until I was already naked. I climb into the shower, trying to focus on anything except how she felt pressed against me. I fail. The water’s hot but not hot enough. I stand there too long. She’s still there, on my skin, in my head, lodged under my ribs like a splinter.

I try to rub her out of my system. My legs nearly buckle as I finish. Her name spilling out of my throat, raw and unplanned. Yeah, I know. I’m in deep.

I’m not even dry before my heart’s racing again, just thinking about seeing her at breakfast. Thirty whole minutes since I last saw her.

I throw on jeans and a button-up, pretending routine will somehow make me composed. I go to the cafeteria on autopilot, grabbing a coffee and protein bar. I don’t even glance around for Dylan or Benson. I ditch them. Again.

My focus is on Thea’s booth, but before I can get there, Anita and another witch slide in across from her. Even from across the room, the tension between them sparks in the air.

I look around, unsure what to do next when I spot Mavrik at a booth nearby. His dark hair falls over his eyes and his usual slouch says ‘don’t bother me,’ but his gaze is fixed on Thea and Anita with the same quiet intensity I feel.

Before I can think better of it, I cross the room, sliding into the seat across from him. He meets my eyes, a look of surprise on his face.

“You’re watching them too,” I whisper.

Mavrik’s dark eyes drift to the pair across the room. “It’s hard not to,” he mutters, his tone as flat as ever. “Anita doesn’t sit with people for fun.”

I nod, glancing over at Thea again. She’s scratching at her wrist, her movement small but telling. Anita’s body language has shifted, her words inaudible from this distance but clearly biting. Thea sits rigidly, her face carefully neutral.

“They’re talking about us,” Mavrik says offhand.

My attention snaps to him. “What makes you say that?”

He doesn’t look at me, his gaze still locked on them. “The shadows.”

I stare at him, trying to process. “You’re… listening to them?”

His lips quirk into the faintest smirk. I glance back at Thea and Anita as she leans in closer, her smile razor-thin and predatory.

This is an invasion of her privacy.

“What are they saying?” I ask, leaning forward.

Mavrik hesitates, his fingers tapping softly against the table. “Anita’s baiting her.”

“About what?”

“She’s trying to push her toward you.” He glances at me briefly, his dark eyes searching. “Anita said for her to just walk over and kiss you. But I think she expects you to reject Thea publicly and embarrass her.”

My jaw tightens. “Why would she—”

Before I can finish, Anita stands and crosses the cafeteria, the dark haired witch trailing behind. There’s something familiar about the witch I can’t place. Anita’s gaze lands on us, her lips curving into a sly smile that makes me lose my appetite.

“Well, well, look what we have here,” she says, her voice smooth as she slithers into the space between us. “The golden boy and a shadow lurking behind him. How perfectly fitting. Almost like a story, isn’t it?”

I raise an eyebrow but keep my expression neutral. Mavrik shifts in his seat, irritation obvious in his dark eyes as he looks between the two witches.