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Finding a series of lines and runes that look like something I can handle, I sketch it out on the paper. I set the pen down and then trace my finger over the symbol I’ve drawn and focus on pushing my magic into the sigil, while also focusing on the book that I’ve been hiding all week.
I blink. The book disappears. “Holy shit, that was so much easier.” I release my focus and the book comes back.
Stupid Gideon and Hardin telling me I’m not ready to make my own spells. I flip through the book again and find a sigil that helps with calling fire. Yes, I can snap my fingers and have flames appear in my hand, but what if I want to have a fire ignite elsewhere, like… what if I want to light a candle across the room? That’d be a cool party trick.
Cooler than holding flames in your hands, Rosalind Juliet?I tell that inner voice to shut up and rise to grab a scented candle that smells like a man from a bookshelf before setting it on the coffee table just in front of me.
I’m going to light this candle using a sigil, dammit.
Keeping my focus on the candle, I sketch out the sigil and then push my magic into it, a little at a time. I don’t want to overwhelm the spell, because that would be disastrous. The wick on the candle smokes and then sparks to life. Triumph flows through me, my hand fisting in excitement.
But then the front door slams open, startling me beyond belief. I lose my grip on my power and the flame on the candle flares grows from a small flickering thing to an inferno in a moment. The top of Cohen’s coffee table is immediately engulfed in flames.
I yelp and scramble back as quickly as I can. Water. I need water to douse the flames.
Almost as if my thoughts have called it, a deluge of liquid drops over the table, smothering the flames, and splashing to the floor, soaking into the carpet. Drops of water hit my bare shins.
Oh, thank god.Apparently, I can call elemental magic when I really need it.
“What the hell was that, Rosalind?” Another yelp escapes me as I spin to face a furiously worried Gideon. He strides up to me, big hands sliding from my face down my shoulders to my wrists, as he makes sure that I’m not hurt. “Are you injured?” I shake my head in the negative and his face turns all the way angry. “What were you thinking, calling fire inside?”
“I was trying to light a candle without touching it,” I explain, motioning weakly at the waterlogged candle in the center of the table. “I did it, but then you startled me and I lost control.”
Gideon follows the motion of my hand, lands on the notebook and the sigils drawn on it, and his lips thin out. “This is exactly why I told you not to use sigils yet. Do they help direct the flow of magic? Yes. But if you don’t have the right control, they can overwhelm the user. Jesus, Ro, this could have been so much worse if I hadn’t come in when I did.”
My shoulders slump as I take in the disaster that is Cohen’s living room. I nod. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. I was just getting frustrated with failing.”
His face softens and his thumbs stroke over my cheekbones. “You’re not failing, sweetheart. You’re learning. And you’re doing it a hell of a lot faster than the rest of us did.”
“Really?” I ask, kind of hating that I need his reassurance.
He grins at me. “Yes, Ro. Really. You’re learning a lot more than we had to because you recognized that you aren’t limited by coven sects. You’re doing beautifully. Really.”
I groan and press my face into his chest, my arms slipping around his waist. “While I appreciate the sentiment, somehow I don’t think catching Cohen’s coffee table on fire can be called doing beautifully.”
“Well,no,” he says gently, stroking a hand down the back of my head. “It’s not really. But it was just a mistake and we all make those.”
“Some of us more than others,” I mutter, rubbing my nose back and forth in his shirt. God, he smells good. They all always smell so fucking good. And I don’t know why that is. I pull back and lookup at him through my lashes. “What are you doing here?”
His hands smooth over my back while his cheeks go pink. “I hate leaving you alone for half the day.”
I arch my brows. “Are you saying you missed me?”
His lips quirk before he brushes a kiss over my mouth. “Yes, Ro, I miss you. Anytime I’m not with you, I miss you. And in just a few days, we’ll be lucky if we can spend a few hours a day together. So I decided that I’d rather be here with you than in the Library.”
I have the unexplainable urge to cry. But hear me out. Gideonlovesbooks. He loves learning. His magic is based in the freaking written word. Hence the plethora of tattoos covering his delicious body that give him access to his spells.
That he would rather be here with me than adding to his knowledge, then studying grimoires of other covens? Hell, that is the most romantic thing I can think of him doing.
Without over analyzing what exactly I’m doing, I press up onto my toes, wind my arms around his neck—he bends a little to make it easier on me—and then tug him to my mouth for a kiss.
I’m in control for about point-two-five seconds before he groans, laces his hands into my hair to tilt my head just the way he likes it, and then he takes over. His tongue slips between my lips, hunting for mine, twines with it, makes me moan into him as his other hand moves down my body to cup my ass, pull my hips forward until he can grind against me.
He pulls back, gray eyes blazing, breathing heavily, and says, “if you want to stop, I need you to tell me now. ‘Cause I’m about ten seconds away from scooping you up, carrying you to your room and fucking you like I’ve been dreaming about since that first day I saw you.”
I get dizzy thinking about it. Ten months of him wanting me. Ten months of sexual repression just waiting to be let out on me. Yeah, I fucking want that.
I shift my grip on his shoulders, getting better purchase, and then lift one leg to wrap around his hips. His eyes widen at the new position, but he quickly takes advantage. His arm slides under my ass, supporting my weight as my other leg comes up to wrap around his waist.
