Page 49

He stops in the middle of the street and shrugs off his jacket, wrapping it around my shoulders. Honey, amber, and oak envelop me, comforting me like a weighted blanket. I shove my fingers through the too-long sleeves, forcing my hands out the other side.

For a moment, I don’t say anything, my mind completely blank. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

I watch him from the corner of my eye as we walk, my shoes click-clacking against the cobbled street. “You won’t get cold?”

He’s wearing a thick sweater, but still.

“No.” He meets my gaze with a level look. The setting sun shines right into his face, casting his complexion in gold and brightening his azure eyes until they look like a masterpiece. “As I said, don’t mention it.”

So, I don’t. I definitely don’t mention that he has the prettiest eyes, nor do I ask him what scent he wears.

He leads me to the park next. There are a few other people wandering around as we walk deeper and deeper, onto a trail that feels more like the woods than the park. When we arrive at a clearing, he spreads out the blanket.

“This is where the midnight picnic usually is,” he says. ”We can get a little taste of that now. Without the food, I guess. Hm. Maybe I should have thought ahead.”

I sit cross-legged across from him. “You’re fine. We have chocolate. What are we doing here anyway?”

With a snap of his fingers, orbs of light surround us—warm and lighting up the area. “I was thinking we could read a little, then we could stargaze.”

I look up at the sky. The moon is there already, but it’s not quite dark enough for the stars to be as vibrant as they will be later. If I point that out, it will just be me making excuses. I haven’t stargazed since my father died, and considering everything Sterling knows about me, he could probably guess that.

He’s watching me expectantly. There’s something sharp about it, but not cutting—awakening, invigorating, like jumping into a pool in the middle of summer.

I let out a trembling breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

“We can start with the reading.” He opens the book slowly, as if he expects me to knock it out of his hand or something. “I know you don’t like reading, so maybe I can read it aloud to get us started.”

I narrow my eyes. “I do know how to read. Just to make that abundantly clear.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He smiles and rolls his eyes. “Think of me as your personal audiobook.”

“…Fine.”

He starts reading, and I wasn’t expecting his rumbling voice to affect me, especially when he’s talking about such dry content. Each word goes right between my legs. The glow of magic shines onto his face, illuminating those crystal eyes and casting a glow across his sharp jawline.

As much as I try to look at the stars, all I can do is stare at him.

At one point, I lose track of what he’s saying.

“Well?” he says after the first chapter. “What do you think?”

“I think… what do you think?”

The truth is, the reading material isn’t connecting to me, and it’s not just because it’s practically a textbook. Astrological magic isn’t as fun as studying some other forms of magic. It requires learning ancient Greek, memorizing the meanings and symbols of the planets, and reading boring texts. But that isn’t why I’m not connecting. I’ve always practiced my magic a little differently than other astrological witches, speaking to the stars directly and channeling their will.

But when I look up at the stars, they won’t so much as whisper.

“It seems like she’s going to share a lot of good information in this book,” he says slowly. “But you can take it home and read the rest on your own, right?”

I nod. “Right. Yeah, sure.”

He closes the book and lies down on his back, gesturing for me to do the same. I do, the ends of my legs sticking off the blankets and onto the cool, wet grass. Without thinking about it, without trying to, I close my eyes to block out the bright, sparkling vision.

“Aurora,” he says gently. “Look up.”

After inhaling a long breath—fresh cut grass and the scent of him—I do.