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Hopefully, Morgan wouldn’t be too pissed that I’d spent last night with Emily and not her. Oh well, she’d have to get over it. I was allowed to be around people that weren’t her, and she needed to realize that. Nothing would replace our friendship—but that’s all it was: friendship.
It was getting harder to deny her feelings for me, especially since Emily had made an appearance in our lives. I tried to pretend I hadn’t noticed, but I didn’t want to do it anymore. I was tired of pretending that I didn’t feel the mate bond with Emily, that I was oblivious to Morgan’s affection. It was all too exhausting, and it got me nowhere.
Emily handed me a cup of coffee and said a healing spell over it. I took a sip and the flavor bursting over my tongue was not what I’d expected. At all. I forced the liquid down, and she asked me how it tasted.
“Let’s just say you should stick to hot chocolate,” I answered, snickering between words.
Emily huffed, saying she was going to change and put up her art stuff before heading to the bedroom, muttering something about no appreciation with a pouting expression.
I laughed at her dramatic behavior and followed her to the room.
She faced me and crossed her arms. “I could’ve been changing, you know.”
“If that’s supposed to deter me, Princess, you’re doing an awful job.”
She rolled her eyes and turned away to grab some clothes. I stepped closer, grabbing her art pad to look at her drawing. There was no doubt she was a talented artist. Her picture was so real, as if she’d been drawing the family from a photograph, though I saw no photo present.
“This is really good,” I said, noticing every detail, every line and shading. “Who is this family?”
Emily glanced at me from the corner of her eyes, not turning to face me. In a meek tone, she answered, “It was from a dream I had last night,” before she turned and grabbed the sketchpad from my hand to shove it into her bag with her pencils. “The two adults are my parents, but the child… I’m… not sure if that’s me.”
“What do you mean,” I asked, taking a seat on the bed.
She sat down beside me and ran her hands over her face, rubbing her eyes, as if trying to rub the memory away. “In my dream, I saw the same vision of my mother and father that the Ancient One showed me. Only, this time there was a little girl with blonde hair, who my mother called Em. But I was a baby when she gave me away, so that couldn’t be me.” She sighed and looked at the floor, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I don’t know…”
“Hey,” I said in a soothing voice, placing my hand over hers. “It’s okay. I know it’s confusing now, but like you said, we’ll figure it out together.”
She peered up at me, her blue eyes confused and vulnerable, piercing into mine. I hate to say she was adorable, but she looked like a lost puppy, and I had this overwhelming desire to guide her. I only wish I knew how.
I leaned in closer, brushing the loose strands of hair from her face and cupping her hands, squeezing them gently.
Her eyelashes fluttered, her gaze dropping to my lips, and she closed the distance between us until her lips brushed against mine. But just as I leaned into the kiss, she jerked away, muttering.
“You have nothing to be shameful for,” I said, cupping her face with my hand to capture her attention. “It’s only us in here right now, and you shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what your heart is telling you to do.”
She chewed on her bottom lip as if debating my words, before she crept closer, claiming my mouth once more.
A heat erupted between us, taking over every ounce of restraint I’d held and tossing it to the side. My fingers twirled through her hair and down to her shoulder, caressing her skin until goosebumps formed beneath my touch.
She laid back onto the bed, pulling me with her, our lips never parting in the motion. Pushing her body against mine, her hands ran along my back, grabbing onto me as if I’d disappear if she didn’t grab hard enough.
I knew that feeling all too well.
The kiss deepened, and her tongue slipped into my mouth, swirling against mine in the most exhilarating blend of passion and lust—a heady desire taking over my senses. I flipped her onto her back, crawled on top, and pressed into her, reclaiming her lips.
And I could’ve stayed like that forever, had it not been for that damned door. Someone knocked, interrupting us again.
“Son of a bitch,” I growled, climbing off the bed to answer the door. Whoever was at that door was looking for a swift kick to the crotch for interrupting.
