Page 19 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

The surface finally breaks above us, and air crashes into my lungs while the man beside me remains motionless.

Fear grips me instantly. Not now.

I drag him toward my vessel, the effort burning through every muscle I possess, and when I haul him aboard, my entire body trembles from exhaustion. I climb in after him as rain lashes across the deck, the storm continuing to circle nearby even though it already feels weaker, as though losing him has stolen part of its strength.

I kneel beside the unconscious man—dark hair, broad shoulders, strong features—and recognition strikes instantly.

Finn Blackwater. My pulse stumbles. Of all the people⁠—

I place my hands against his chest, and the realization hits me immediately. Water fills his lungs. Too much of it.

"Come on," I mutter, magic rising as light spills beneath my skin and the energy flows through my hands into his body.

I force the trapped water upward, and Finn's body jerks beneath my hands, though nothing follows. My heart pounds harder, and I push more power into the spell.

"Come on," I say again, another surge following, another pulse, another desperate attempt.

Then Finn coughs, water spilling from his mouth as his entire body convulses beneath me.

Relief crashes through me so suddenly that my vision blurs.

He coughs again, as air finally enters his lungs as I sag backward. Thank the stars.

Finn drags in a ragged breath, his eyes snapping open, and storm-gray eyes lock onto mine.

Everything stops—the ocean, the rain, the wind, the world itself seeming to hold its breath alongside us.

A violent shock explodes through me, ecstasy tearing across every nerve, raw and intense and overwhelming. The sensation races from my chest through the rest of my body so quickly that I physically gasp, and Finn's expression mirrors my own—shock, disbelief, confusion, the connection slamming into us both with breathtaking force.

I feel him. Not his thoughts, not his memories, but him—the certainty of his existence, the strength of his presence, the warmth of his life.

The awareness is instantaneous

My pulse races wildly as Finn stares at me, and I stare back, neither of us speaking while the connection hums between us, alive and impossible to ignore.

The realization arrives for both of us at the exact same moment.

Mate.

The word never reaches my lips. It doesn't need to. The bond says it for us.

Finn's breathing remains uneven, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his gaze never leaves mine, and I don't think mine leaves his either. The storm continues fading around us, the ocean slowly calming, yet the chaos inside me only grows stronger.

Because the man I have just pulled from the sea isn't a stranger anymore. And somehow, that terrifies me far more than the storm ever does.

8

FINN

The first thing I become aware of is pain, sitting deep in my chest as a lingering burn that reminds me exactly how close I came to drowning. I draw in a careful breath, and the ache remains. At least I'm breathing. That's something.

The second thing I notice is warmth. A blanket covers me, and the room smells faintly of salt, old wood, rain, and something softer I can't immediately identify. I open my eyes to sunlight spilling through nearby windows, a stone fireplace occupying one wall and bookshelves lining another. The room feels lived in, comfortable, quiet, and my gaze shifts toward the staircase before memory crashes into me all at once.

The storm. The capsized boat. The darkness. A pair of sea-glass green eyes.

I sit up too quickly, and pain immediately punishes the decision, a cough tearing through my chest. The sound of footsteps follows, and I stare at the doorway just as Reina appears, pausing when she sees me awake. Relief flashes across her face before it's gone almost instantly, replaced by composure.

"You're awake," she says, her voice calm and steady, as though she didn't drag me out of a supernatural storm.