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“Where were you?” I ask, not bothering to try to hide the accusation in my voice. “I needed you. Where were you?”
“We were going to send in a team to get you out, baby. A team of operatives trained to infiltrate hunter compounds. They were five minutes away from mobilizing,” Fielder says cupping my jaw tenderly. I smack his hand away, wincing when it hurts. Not just physically, but emotionally. “But Cohen wasn’t willing to wait. He opened that damn portal and wanted us to go in without a plan.”
Cohen scoffs from the couch. “I had a plan, and that plan consisted of getting to Rosalind as quickly as possible and killing any asshole who got in my way. And what do you know? It worked.”
Fielder’s jaw ticks. “It was dangerous and could have put her at greater risk.”
Cohen leans forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. “Do you know what wouldn’t have put her at greater risk? Having a fucking battle witch there. You know, someone who can see what enemies are going to do before they do it, who can plan and strategize at the drop of a hat? That might have fucking helped.”
Hardin.Hardin can do that. Blade and Tether has an affinity for bloodshed, for strategy. That’s why they’re the peacekeepers of the coven. Because they can read situations in the blink of an eye and come up with the best and quickest strategy to end the fight.
“If you’d waited,” Fielder grinds out. “We would have had an entire team of battle witches.”
Tears prick my eyes. “A team of battle witches who don’t know me would have come to my rescue, but not you. You didn’t want to come to help me?”
He runs a frustrated hand through his curly blond hair. “We couldn’t risk it.”
They couldn’t risk it?They couldn’t fucking risk it?Hurt stabs through me. So much fucking hurt that I hunch my shoulders against it. I am not worth risking themselves for? They don’t care enough about me to have eventriedto save me? Everything they’ve told me is bullshit.Everything.
“That’s not- It wasn’t like that, love,” Hardin says and I curse the damn potion that’s apparently still making all of my thoughts drip from my tongue. I look at Cohen. The one who came to get me, who saved me. Who hasalwayshelped me. I trust him to help with this, too.
He gives me a soft smile that tells me I said that out loud.
“Can you do something about this?” I motion at my mouth and I know he knows what I mean.
“I can, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing for you to share your thoughts at the moment, wildcard. They need to know.”
I swallow and shake my head. “I don’t want- I need to be able to control my words, Cohen, please.”
Sighing, he nods and moves until he’s standing in front of me, his hands cup my cheeks and his icy green eyes burn into mine. I feel the tips of his fingers heat against my skin, the pulse of his power fighting against the potion still running through my veins, burning it out of me. I feel Kohaku shift against my ribs, like he can feel the power too.
“He won’t be able to counteract a potion like that, Ro. We need to brew something to negate it,” Ezra says, already pulling ingredients out of the kitchen cabinets.
Cohen’s lips curl into a smirk. “I do so love proving you wrong, Carmichael.” He leans his forehead against mine. Our breaths mingle. “Almost done, wildcard,” he murmurs. And then his lips press to mine, hot and hungry.
I hear the others protest, making angry sounds and shouting for Cohen to ‘get your damn hands off her.’ I ignore them, the same way I ignore the pain in my split lip and the bruising on my cheek. I want to kiss him. I want to taste him and let him taste me, so I’m damn well gonna do it now.
Cohen’s tongue flicks at the wound on my mouth, like he’s as eager for a taste of my blood along with everything else. I have no idea why that makes me moan, but it does. Then all too soon, he’s pulling back and I’m blinking up at him as arousal pounds through my body.
Fuck.
I need more.
I want more.
“Shit,” I glance around. “Did I say that out loud?”
Cohen chuckles, kisses me one last time, and then pulls away. “No, baby, you didn’t.”
I blow out a breath in relief and turn to find all four assholes glaring at me. But they can fuck themselves.
“Will you let us explain?” Gideon asks, apparently willing to overlook our little make-out session, in favor of convincing me they aren’t complete douchebags.
I shake my head. “There isn’t anything to explain. I was being held and tortured by witch hunters. You know, the people who hunt and killwitches. And Cohen was the only one who was willing to come save me. Because you couldn’triskit. Not for me.”
“We can’t risk the hunters knowing we’re witches, Sweeney.” Ah, back to Sweeney. Lovely. Just lovely.
“We’re from well-known families, Ro. Our faces are recognizable. People know who we are. We’ve been stalked by the paparazzi,” Ezra says. “On top of that, we’re from one of the largest covens in North America. We couldn’t risk them realizing that our families are likely witches, too.”
