Page 46

Yesterday, I kissed her and I’ve replayed it about a hundred times, finding new ways to hate myself with every viewing. This is different. Somehow this feels more dangerous. Maren fits against me like she’s been missing from this exact spot, and my body knows it before my brain has caught up.

Her fingers curl into the back of my shirt.

That tiny movement nearly wrecks me.

I lower my face into her hair, breathing her in, not kissing her, not asking for anything she isn’t ready to give. I just hold her while her anger and hurt sit between us, because they’re real and I earned them. But underneath all of that is something else. Something neither of us seems able to shut off.

That pull.

Her magic brushes over me, warm and restless, and my wolf answers from somewhere deep inside my chest.

Mine.

All I want to do is kiss the hurt away. As I lean in for the kiss, a black sedan turns into my drive.

Evelyn.

Of course.

Maren follows my look. I shove the word down hard.

Not mine.

Not unless she chooses me.

Maren lets out a shaky breath against me, and for one stupid second I let myself imagine she might.

"Maren?"

She looks up at me. Furious. Hurt. The hurt's the part I can't stand.

"Gage, I have spent three nights wondering if I'm losing my mind," she says. "Tell me what fixes that, or move out of my way."

I look at her. My stubborn, bright, impossible mate, ten days out from a fire she doesn't know is coming, wrapped in my blanket on my steps because underneath the anger, mine is the door she came to.

Evelyn's rules stop mattering.

"Who's that?"

Evelyn steps out. Her gaze goes to Maren. Then down, to the cat gone rigid at Maren's ankle, tail thick, every hair lifted.

Something crosses Evelyn's face. Barely there. Recognition. And under it, before she can lock it away, fear.

Maren catches it too. "You know her?"

"Yes. She’s the head of the Lantern Coven."

Evelyn crosses the lawn, hands open and visible. "Maren Bell."

Maren folds her arms. "Depends who's asking."

"Evelyn Sorrell."

Evelyn stops a careful distance off. Sid rises onto his feet between them and growls, that too-deep sound from too small a body.

"I think it's time we talked," Evelyn says.

Maren laughs, sharp and tired. "Get in line."